Today is the day my homework assignment is to be completed.

My Modus Operandi: Ligature Strangulation, Postmortem Rape, and Dismemberment completed in her own home.

My victim's surrogate clone model: Emily Bracken, 18.

She was part of a commonly victimized age bracket. The photo of her shows light brown hair that is wavy and long. To identify her, as opposed to the real Emily Bracken, the clone had a tattoo on her chest with a serial number, displaying the date she passed the quality control department of the clone factory she was from. The clone is conditioned with many of Emily's memories and her exact character. Her reactions would be the same as if she was the actual girl.

My assignment is to stalk and kill her in one day with the mindset of a serial killer. My grade depends on how well I complete the task. I will automatically fail if I do not kill the girl or get caught. A good grade is earned by completing the murder using each facet of the MO along with leaving as little evidence as possible. Everyone in the class is assigned a different MO and victim. Dr. R strongly believes in hands on experimentation, and the results do not lie. Nearly all of his students go on to become great detectives.

I was given a date, time, and location that I will first encounter the girl (I am not supposed to think of her as a clone): 9:45 am Tuesday, January 20, 2156, at Applewood's Coffee Shop.

It is 9:43 now and I catch a glimpse of the girl coming down the sidewalk, then entering the coffee shop in which I had been waiting. She brushes back her hair that had blown across her face in the wind, and orders at the counter. She is wearing a light grey, form fitting sweater with a white scarf and pale, worn-in blue jeans. My heart races. This is the moment the serial killer -- the moment I decide she is the one.

I debate whether or not to introduce myself to her and try to start a conversation, but while my indecision holds me back, she gets her coffer as heads back out onto the street. I follow her to her apartment building, and watching from a short distance as she unlocks the door. I memorize the code she uses: 38748.

The door closes slowly behind her, and I wait until the last moment to slip in unnoticed. She uses the elevator, but, knowing she might recognize me if I follow her in, I hang back in the small lobby and watch the numbers rise until they stop at 42. I now know her apartment is somewhere on the 42nd floor. When I reach her floor a few minutes later, I am not surprised to find that she is nowhere to be seen in the hallways. I have to sit and wait, hoping that I didn't miss my only chance. I pull my hat down over my eyes and sit on a chair in the small partition where the elevators are. Im not sure how much time passes before I catch a glimpse of her headed back down the hall. She now wears coverup that one would wear over a bathing suit and carries a towel over her shoulder. I assume she is headed to the indoor pool on the top floor. Still unsure of her room number, I debate whether or not to try to follow her unnoticed, or just wait for her to return. As she waits for the elevator, she suddenly turns around and catches my eye.

"Excuse me, but weren't you at the coffee shop earlier."

Panicking, I try to act natural. "Oh, hi. Yeah, You live in this building, too?" I try to come up with a reasonable excuse for my being here.

"Yeah! Apartment 4223." She innocently tells me. "What about you?"

"Um, 4204." Hoping she doesn't know the person who actually lives there.

"Wow! What a coincidence!" She smiles naively at me. "Would you like to go swimming with me?"

"I would love to, but I am waiting on a friend right now." I can't think of any other reason I would be waiting in the hall. "But," I add, wanting to make the most of this opportunity, "maybe we can get together later this afternoon, I can meet you at your apartment, and we can go out for dinner."

"Sure!" She appears genuinely excited, and I feel slightly sorry for what I have to do to her, even though she is just a clone. Knowing I have to get a good grade on this assignment, I allow myself to find a lustful desire for the slender, toned body standing before me. It is not difficult.

The elevator doors open and she steps in, turning to flash me her bight smile before she is whisked away. With this stoke of luck, I relax a little. "No wonder girls like this get murdered a lot," I think to myself, "they make it so easy."

After finding out that her room has a window overlooking the street, I swing by my dorm room and pick up a pair of high powered binoculars and head to the public library, which is directly across from her building.

I position myself on a reference floor with very little activity. Maybe one person every fifteen minutes walks by, and to them, I appear to be engrossed in the "M" volume of Tiberius Rhine's Encyclopedia of the Modern World. In actuality, I am watching the girl's room for any sign of activity. Two hours into my stakeout, she enters the room, wearing her towel. I can see her serial number, partially covered by her wet hair. She disappears into the bathroom for a short time then reemerges completely naked, slips on a pair of panties, and begins fixing her hair in the mirror. It's already nearly 4:00 pm so I decide to make my move. Perhaps if I catch her off guard, she will go down easily.

I cross the street, enter her code, and, within five minutes, am standing in front of her door. I knock softly and hear a rustle on the other side as she quickly makes herself decent.

"Coming," She calls out from inside before she opens the door wearing a grey lace skirt and a pale pink button up blouse. She looks embarrassed. "Sorry," she says, "I haven't finished getting ready, but you can come in to wait." She opens door wider to let me in. She is all smiles as she motions to the couch for me. "I'll only be a minute." Her ponytail swings as she turns her back to me and walks toward the other room. My heart is pounding; I know this may be my best chance.

She hears me move toward her and spins around to face be, but my hands are tightening around her neck before she has the chance to scream. She tries to pull away, but I effortlessly overpower the smaller, younger girl. I pull her to the ground, resting my back against a couch with her straddling me on my lap. I get a good grip on her neck as her feet kick against the ground in an effort to get away, and for all her endeavors, she goes nowhere. Her fingers grab at my shirt but are unable get a grip as her strength wanes. Her struggles slowly subside.

Her face is now inches from mine. Her irresistible pink lips are parted slightly and I can see her tongue moving in her mouth. Her bottom chin trembles and her light brown eyes widen as her life fades away. Her entire body rubs against mine as she puts up a final fight for air. Beneath my fingertips, I can feel the muscles in her throat, which had been flexing and fighting to open an airway, relax. I squeeze her soft neck as tight as I can, crushing the cartilage in her trachea. I press my lips against hers as she dies. When she falls perfectly still, I let the small, lifeless body collapse against me, her head resting against my chest. I sit for a while taking deep breaths and absentmindedly running my fingers through her think brown hair. The dead girl's head moves up and down with my chest.

Her skin is beginning to become cool to the touch when I finally lay her on her back, arms above her head, and get on my knees between her legs. I pull open her shirt and white lace bra, revealing the pale, nubile body. Her serial number and lack of a belly button remind me that she is a clone, but for the full experience, I try to put it out of my mind. Her once brown eyes are now a dull grey, and her lips have a blue hue to them. Her skirt has ridden up to her waist exposing the full length of her long, smooth legs. I unbutton my pants and pull her panties to the side. She is still slightly moist inside and by hooking my arms under her knees and pulling them up until they are next to her head, I am able to force my way into her. Blankly staring up at me, wide-eyed and mouth open, the dead girl doesn't complain. Her limp body rhythmically moves with mine, until I climax, letting my semen fill her cavity.

The sun is going down, so with no time to loose I drag the violated body to the bathroom and place it in the bathtub. I go to the kitchen and luckily find a medium sized meat cleaver. I figure it will do the job and return to the body in the tub. First, I wash it off with cool water, hoping to remove evidence. When I'm finished, I straighten out her arm, line up the knife at the shoulder joint, and give one strong hack. Surprisingly, the knife cuts clean through, and I move on to her other arm. The legs present more of a challenge and require three hacks each before they come off. I position her appendages so that as much blood as possible drains out. I tilt the head back, exposing her thin neck. The bruising from my hands is a dark purple. The meat cleaver easily slides between her cervical vertebrae, cleanly separating her head from her body. I let the blood drain for a few minutes while I clean the knife with bleach and replace it in the kitchen. I rinse of the dismembered body again, and only a few thin lines of crimson are left. I take the individual body parts and position them on her bed with her head directly between her breasts. I bleach the tub and then leave, locking the door behind me.

The next class I am handed my grade report: A+ along with the note "It was like a work of art."