"They need to be punished, and I’m the one to punish them."
They felt better after that.The pain from rubbing their skin and eyes was pushed to the back, a constant reminder that this calling was not supposed to be easy.A reminder that they were still human.
Steam rose from the sink with the water still running.They moved the faucet handle in the opposite direction and waited until the water ran cold before splashing some on their face.It was cold and bit at the open pores on their skin.
They left the knife in the sink, then walked from the bathroom, dripping water as they went.
For a second, they feared they had walked into the wrong room.The furniture had been moved from the walls into the center of the room, and they wondered for a moment if someone had made a pile that was to be burned.When they saw the walls covered in photos and other documents, they remembered that they had needed more space.What had started with a covered table had consumed the living room walls like a hungry beast, unable to be sated.
"Who, who, who, who," the killer muttered as they wandered the outskirts of the room, moving from face to face."No, no, no, no, wait!"
The killer brought a finger to their lips to hush themselves.They listened.Were there people around?How quiet must they be?
They went to the table that had been dragged to the pile in the middle of the room and picked up the red marker they had bought specially for the task.Then, they went to the pictures of Richard Langford and Patricia Holland, and drew a large ‘X’ through each portrait.With each one, they touched the portrait after applying the red marker and ran their finger down the person’s face.
"You’re dead now, but you probably don't know that.Perhaps you do, and you blame me for what I did.You’re right to blame me, but you’re also wrong.I’m right to blame you, but I’m also wrong.I had to do it, and I hope you can understand that."
The killer stood still for a moment, then looked behind, over their shoulder.Had there been a slight breeze, or were they imagining it?
Have you come to haunt me?You can if you want, but you can't haunt me any more than I haunt myself.
The killer tossed the red marker back towards the table, and it hit the surface before rolling off under its own momentum.
"Who is next?Who is next?"the killer muttered as they circled the room again."All of you must die, but who is next?"
They stopped before one of the portraits.
"It’s you, isn’t it?"They smiled and licked their lips, taking half a step forward to come closer to the face that had been hung at eye level."You’ve done terrible things, and the only way to counter terrible things is by doing more terrible things."Another lick of the lips."Yes, you’ve…"
The killer’s jaw tightened as they stared at the picture.They brought a hand to their temple and pressed it there before turning from the photo.
"You’ve done things.I know what you’ve done.And I know what I must do.If I don't, then—"
The hand pressed harder on the temple.There was an absence of pain.If pain had come rushing, it would have been far better—it would have given them something to focus on, but there was nothing.No pain, no feeling, no knowledge.The killer picked up the closest thing to hand, one of the couch cushions piled on a topped bookcase, and tossed it across the room.
It hit the wall with a soft thud and pulled down the papers hanging there, tearing one in half.
"Oh, stupid, stupid, stupid!"they hissed.
They ran around the pile to the other side of the room, picking up what had been pulled down and taping and pinning it back to the wall.The last to be picked up was the photo that had been torn in half.
The killer stood and held the two halves of the face together.Then, they pinned them back to the wall, leaving a gap in the middle to highlight the rip.
It all came flooding back, so much that their knees buckled and they had to place a hand against the wall, to the side of the photo, to steady themselves.The emotions of what had come before, what would come next, and the clarity of why it all made sense.It felt like they were seeing the room for the very first time, and it made complete sense.
"Yes, yes, yes," they said as the smile widened.They tapped both sides of the photograph vigorously."Thank you!The work is important, and I can't keep it all inside all of the time."They sighed and laughed."I have to let it out, and you keep it all for me in here.You safeguard it.I’d forgotten that."
Another sigh of relief and a chuckle.
They placed a finger against the forehead of the person on the left side of the tear and drew a line downward to the chin.Then the same on the other side of the photo.
"I see it now," they whispered to the man in the photograph."I judge all of you in this room, but it’s not my place to choose who was next.You’ve been given to me."They broke into a smile and began laughing, their shoulders jerking as tears welled in their red eyes."You’ve been given to me, and I will remake you in this image.I will split you in two just as you hang on my wall."
CHAPTER SIX
"Thanks for joining us," Alison told Derek once she and Detective Moore were back at the FBI offices.
"Don't thank me yet," Derek said."I think I'm doing this for the same reason you are.I have more access to the investigation into Mills's whereabouts, but I still can't be a part of it.I need something to take my mind off of it."