“Case File: # 3880-C. Caleb Zwieler. Convicted for the murder of Michelle Carigan. Now, Caleb, please cooperate and explain what exactly when down. Tell us what happened the night murder.”

Oh yes. The night where my master plan came to fruition. All according to plan until the end! The day that her life ended was the happiest I’ve ever live. Of Course, I would love to talk about that night.

I had spent years concocting the plan to the very second. Michelle saw me as a dear friend, so of course, I would be gracefully invited to her party. Little did she know I had been subconsciously manipulating her to have the dinner for months, and little did she know I loathed her with every fiber of my being. But how could she, I was the perfect friend for years.

We met in our college earth science class. From the moment I saw her, I despised her. She was the perfect person. Tall. Blond. No care in the world except wasting her time getting drunk and partying. But it wasn’t until she sat down next to me and spoke those words. “Can I borrow a pen?” I was fine with it, I hated many people in the class but it was what she did next that made me want her dead.

“Mr. Zwieler, please go back to the night of the murder.”

Fine. I will go back to that night. I arrived at her uptown apartment promptly at 6:04. She opened her door and smiled, “You’re early Cal!” I was no idiot, but the mocking tone in her voice made me enjoy what would come to play. I laughed it off. Like the kind, sweet party guest I helped her set up the food, got her tacky mess of a home ready for the others to arrive. There was even a moment when she asked me to cut a watermelon. There was a knife in my hand and she was too busy to pay attention to me. I could have ended her, made my plan happen much easier, but no… No, it had to be at the perfect moment. I wanted her to suffer.

By the turnaround of the next hour, the others came. I knew all of them and hated them. They were just like Michelle. Bubbly and carefree, but none of them irked me the way she did, no one did anything as bad. Anyways there were ten others, making a total of twelve people. It was perfect for my ingenious plan.

We convened at her grand dining table. I thought to myself, what lonely freak owns a dozen-person table. Regardless, I was able to make my way to her right side. Of course, the hostess had to sit at the head of the table, but that small detail worked perfectly with my plan.

She made a toast with champagne and dinner began. The meal was horrible. People I despise, sharing pointless anecdotes like how Brenda was having her third baby, or Trevor finding an apartment near downtown Seattle. They were all void fill in my head, but I pretended to take an interest. What fools to believe me.

The night dragged on for what felt like an eternity, but finally, Michelle sipped the last bit of alcohol in her glass. That was her third cup of champagne, and I knew her tolerance was whittled down to nothing from her unruly past lifestyle. All according to plan.

That was when I purposely made a fool of myself. I clumsily grabbed the salad, knocking the red of wine I had been sipping onto my front. It spilled all over me and the dinner seemed to stop.

“Oh no, Cal! You ruined your shirt!” Michelle sounded distressed, but her words slurred.

I played it off casually, “Whelp, guess I have to go home now, sorry Mitch” I hated acting like I was a dunce, and I hated that nickname she told me to call her.”

“No no! You left that one flannel here last week, I was meaning to give it back.” As if I didn’t purposely leave it here, planning this exact moment. “Here I’ll help you clean up.

As we were walking to her bedroom, one of her idiot party guests sneered, “Why you leaving clothes at Michelle’s place? Are you two messing around?” I was close to snapping, attacking and ruining my plans. Luckily I was able to keep cool, but I wouldn’t forget that comment. Maybe a future plan if I ever get out?

Besides the point, we entered the room and she closed the door behind her. I began to undress, slowly unbuttoning my shirt to put on the flannel shirt. The plan had gone perfectly until that point. Now all I had to do was wait for her to take her attention off me, I would pull the knife I had stored hidden in my sleeve and finish her once and for all.

That was then she made the stupidest mistake of her life. She opened the doors to her outdoor balcony and smiled back to me, “You know don’t mind him…” She brushed the blond locks out of her perfectly-disgusting face. “But Cal… We’ve been friends since we were in school.” No... “I’ve been meaning to tell you something for a long time…” No! “Caleb… I think… I love you!”

Nooo! No! No! This was not happening, not now, not as my plan was coming to full. I could feel my face turning red, my blood coming to a boil. This was the worst situation ever. How can this disgusting, preppy, idiotic peon possibly think I would like her. It was insulting. It was enraging!

What could I do? She stared at me waiting for a reply. There was a moment of silence before I walked over to her. My chest was still bare. My body felt steamy in anger. She looked up to me, hopeful that I would show a shred of compassion.

That was when my body worked without me thinking. In a blind rash rage, I grasped her arms. In a moment, she was squeezed tightly in my hands struggling, the next she was flung over the ledge.

I remember the exact moment. He surprised scream, lasted for twelve seconds before I heard the crash, her body hitting the concrete street. I heard the honking of car horns, the screaming of pedestrians that just witnessed the end of her life.

God, I wish I could have seen it. I wondered if it happened like in TV, she laid flat broken like some doll. Maybe her body bounced, leaving a bloody indent of her figure. Maybe her corpse exploded, painting everything around. The idea was too euphoric to not keep in my mind forever.

And that’s how it happened. Right before the end, my plan almost worked perfectly. Of course, my bold choice left me with no way to save myself from being arrested and found guilty of all charges. Now, I don’t regret what I did, and if I could, I would do it a million times over. Just to know she’s dead is satisfaction enough for me. I had finally taken vengeance at the girl who lost my favorite pen.