The library was full; bustling but quiet. The people knew better than to mess with the old librarian. She ruled the building like a kingdom, and it wasn’t hard to get exiled.
As he continued through the book, an unusual man caught his eye. He stared at the old photo of a professor. Something seemed oddly familiar about him. The man had a cold presence, as if his very image had turned the room to ice. He had sleek black hair, like crow’s feathers. Thin glasses were perched on his rugged face, and he had an aura of authority about him.
“Lucas Miller, a professor turned brutal serial killer that dismembered his victims alive.”
A distant voice echoed through the room. He shook it off as nothing. The voice got louder, drowning out the usual voices in his head.
‘Raven,’ someone whispered in his ear.
Raven flinched, and looked around to see if anyone was there. It was as if everyone else in the room had been frozen, stuck reading books and using the computers. No one else was even near him.
‘I know who you are,’ the voice said.
‘What the hell?’
‘I am Lucas. You know me, but you’ve just never paid attention to me. I am always there.’
Raven scoffed. ‘So I have a long-dead serial killer in my head? Right.’
‘I know a lot about you.’
‘Prove it.’
‘I’ve been observing you for a while now. I’ve seen you sneak into people’s yards and watch them, I’ve seen what you did to the animals, I’ve seen you set things on fire, and I’ve seen the brutal beatings.
Raven tilted his head. ‘How-‘
‘I also know the urges that you have. Don’t hold them back, or you’ll end up as nothing. You’ll be like your father. If you listen to me, you can be something.’
This was strange, even for his warped mind, but curiosity kept him sitting at the table.
‘Do you know about the people that went missing 60 years ago? That was because of me. The police here are brainless, even now. All they want to do is finish their grueling shifts and go home to sleep. They’ll pretend to look for a missing person for a few days, then they’ll give up. They’re underfunded and tired,’ the voice explained.
‘I’m still not convinced.’
‘Once you get a taste of the rush you get from murder, you won’t be able to stop. You’ve been looking for an opportunity to start. Here’s your opportunity.’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘Do it. You know you can get away with it. You’ve got the weapon. You’ve got the victims. You’ve got nothing to lose.’
Raven got out his pocketknife, thinking about slitting his father’s throat. He ran his finger along the blunt side of the blade. ‘But after my father, who would I kill?’
‘Anyone that’s wronged you. What about your sister? She abandoned you, running off to your mother’s place and leaving you to be beaten by your father. She could have stopped the pain, but she didn’t.’
‘I’m not doing it. It’s not worth it.’
‘Trust me, it is. No one will be able to stop you. You can be more powerful than you even imagined.’
Raven considered what the murderer said. ‘But what if I did kill her?’ he thought.
‘I’ll give you a moment to make up your mind.’
Raven stared. The voice wasn’t there. It was his twisted mind creating an auditory hallucination. But he sure sounded real. How deep did this delusion go? Hearing Lucas’s voice was like waking up in a dream. He knew Lucas wasn’t real, yet he was too paralyzed to do anything. These delusions were destroying his mind. Death had spread over his mind like a disease, corrupting every positive thought. His insanity was so obvious, even to him, yet he didn’t feel crazy. He just felt... different.
‘Deal,’ he said. The old librarian stood there, looking down at him indignantly as she clutched a phone in her hand. Triple zero was typed in, her finger hovering over the “call” button.
‘Sir,’ she proclaimed.
‘Looking down, he realised that he was still holding his pocket knife. He swore under his breath.
‘If you don’t give me an explanation as to why you have a knife in here, and it better be a damn good one, I’m calling the police.’
‘Sorry, I was just talking to my friend.’
‘What friend?’
6
‘I was hoping you wouldn’t come back, you piece of shit,’ his father said as Raven opened the door.
As he stared into his father’s cruel eyes, something snapped. All of the anger he had held onto for years came rushing back, and he no longer felt powerless.
Pulling out the knife, he lurched towards his father. In one swift motion, he said ‘goodbye’ and plunged it through the old man’s heart. He had broken Raven’s heart, so it was only suitable that he broke his.
Through murder, he would become the monster that he had hated for so long, but there was no other way. Once upon a time, he would have died for his father. Part of him wished that he hadn’t realised the truth, but it was too late to have regrets.
He dragged the bleeding body out to the backyard and rolled it up in a tarp. Where was he going to dispose of it?
His father’s car was parked in the garage, the keys still in the ignition. ‘Perfect,’ he thought.
He popped open the boot, then lined it with blankets and tarps from the garage. They would protect the car from getting any blood on it, should the police search it.
He dragged the corpse to the car and dumped it into the boot. Slamming the boot door down, he felt relieved that he had that part worked out. But what would he say when he was inevitably questioned? His father couldn’t just disappear.
He remembered that his father’s wallet was in the glove box. He pocketed the credit card and the cash, then threw the wallet in the garage with the rest of his father’s rubbish.
It was a good thing that train tickets could be bought online. He mentally went over his plan. He would dump the body in the forest, bury the tarps and blankets, then abandon the car that the train station after he bought a train ticket on his father’s computer with the credit card. The police probably wouldn’t find any physical evidence, but he needed a plan in case Lucas had lied to him.
7
Of all the places to hide a body, the forest was one of the best. It was unlikely that anyone would find it, as very few people went into it. It was mostly used as a dumping-ground these days. The streams had turned acidic, and rubbish filled the old log houses. The most recent signs of life were tag names spray-painted onto an old pathway, but even those were faded from the weather. It was hardly the place for a peaceful morning walk.
He laughed, not feeling anything, but unable to hold it back. His father was gone. Gone! There would be no more beatings, no more tiptoeing around the house to avoid being yelled at. In addition, he would get the house, too as it was in the Will. The laughter faded, but he couldn’t help but smile. The struggle was over, and he was free to do whatever he pleased with the body.
He dropped the corpse to the forest floor, amongst the leaves, garbage, and shattered glass. Nearby, there was an old well, partially hidden by a pile of leaves and rubble. He pulled the debris aside and grabbed the lump that had once been his father. Pausing, he considered what he could do with it. There was no use letting it go to waste. Remembering what he did with the animals he practiced on, he dismembered the body. First went the head. He placed it aside. Then, it was the arms and legs, which went into the hole. He cup open the torso, starting from down low and working upwards, and was half-surprised to see that someone so cruel possessed a heart. Like the dog, he pulled out the liver and lungs, and scooped out what remained of the rest of the organs. The blood was bright on his hands, and he savored its warmth. The metallic smell was overpowering, making him dizzy.
If murder could damn him to Hell, he was damned. That was all that was left for him- damnation or oblivion. But right now, revenge felt worth it. He reveled in the powerful f
eeling, knowing it wouldn’t last.
He threw in everything that remained of his father, except for the head. Before leaving, he took one last peek into the hole. It was like looking at a cubist painting, body parts everywhere with gushing streaks of bright red colour. Nothing was in the right place, and he admired the chaos.
He grabbed the surprisingly heavy head, and made his way back to the car.
8
The interview room was bleak. The grey walls were decorated with a clock that didn’t tick, and the furniture consisted of three chairs, a desk, and a computer. Raven felt anxious, not being able to focus on anything to take his mind off giving a police statement. They demanded it when they discovered his father had been missing for a couple of weeks, and he did his best to act innocent and upset. Some of the officers bought it, but the one sitting across from him didn’t.
‘My name is Senior Constable Bruce Simmons.’ He shook his hand, but didn’t bother with a friendly smile. ‘Raven Holloway, you were born on March 13, 1997, is this correct?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can you distinguish the truth from a lie? If I said the sky was red, would that be a lie?’
‘Yes.’ He stared at the table, avoiding eye contact with the frowning officer.
‘Okay, good. Now tell me what you did on April 15 this year. Be as specific as you can.’
‘Well, I didn’t do much in the morning. I slept in until 11 AM.’ His eyes drifted from the table to the computer. The officer was taking down every word he was saying. He tried to remember his story. ‘I then told my father I was going out for the day. He seemed to be in a good mood.’ Yeah, right. The only time he was in a “good mood” was when he was passed out drink in front of the TV. ‘I left at around 1 PM, then...’
‘Where did you go?’
‘Clifton. You know, the small town about 50 km from here. I went to the markets until around 5 PM, looking at stuff for something to do.’ He remembered seeing a poster for the markets a while back. He hoped it was the right date, as it changed annually. It was the biggest event of the year, with stalls full of cheap knick-knacks lining a whole park and fair rides dotting the centre. It would be hard to spot him from the street cameras, if there even were any, so he had a solid alibi.
‘How did you get there?’
‘Took the bus.’
‘Then...?’
‘Well, I came home, then when my father didn’t come back for a few hours, I rung him about five or ten times.’ He had made sure to do this so it would seem legitimate when they checked the phone records. Even if there was little to no chance of being caught, it was still good to have a plan.
‘Then the next day you reported him missing, correct?’
Raven nodded.
‘So you didn’t get in touch with him at all after you left? He didn’t answer any phone calls?’
‘No, not at all. I wish he had.’
‘Alright, just sign here verifying that you’ve told the truth, and you’re free to leave.’
He did so, trying to hide his feeling of superiority from outsmarting the police. The cop was skeptical enough of his story already. ‘Do you think you’ll find him?’ he asked, trying his best to look like he cared.
The police officer sighed and rubbed his temples. ‘I don’t know. If I need to ask you anything further, I’ll give you a call.’ He slid a card with his contact details across the table. ‘Likewise, if you have any questions, call this number and ask for me.’
‘Thanks.’ For a couple of seconds, Raven could have sworn he heard laughter coming from another room.
9
Raven put the newspaper down. The headline was “5 Citizens Missing This Year”. Perfect. The police hadn’t called back yet, so they must’ve moved onto accusing someone else. All they had were missing people and horrified neighbours. None of the bodies had been found yet. It was tempting to frame the paper, but the head of his father in a giant glass jar beside him was enough of a trophy. Sifting through a shed full of rubbish had paid off.
10
After his sixth kill, he threw the bloodied pieces of the body into the well. Killing was an addiction. No drug could compare to the rush, then the eventual calmness and satisfaction. When he killed, he felt more powerful than God. So many more people deserved to die, and he was just beginning to perfect his technique of dismemberment. The only thing that could stop him now was his own mortality.
11
Raven tapped his fingers on the table. His sister’s house smelled of roses and dust. She kept it simple- plain brown tables, plain white walls. If it weren’t for the stacks of books that lined the rooms, he wouldn’t have thought anyone lived there.
His sister sat across from him, but he stared past her and out the grotty window. The overgrown garden consumed an old shed, vines clawing through the cracks in the wooden panels and reaching into the darkness.
He wasn’t lonely, but he was isolated. What a funny feeling it was, knowing that if he died, only one person in the world would care. And she would soon be his seventh victim. He gently flicked his pocketknife open and shut underneath the table.
‘Raven, I’ve got something to tell you.’
‘What?’ His roaming mind rejoined his body and he realised she was staring at him.
‘I’m pregnant.’
‘What?’
‘I saw the doctor yesterday, and he confirmed it. I haven’t told my boyfriend the news yet. You’re the first to know.’ Soft light illuminated her hair as she smiled. ‘If it’s a girl. I’ll name it Charlotte.’
‘That’s a nice name.’
She nodded. ‘And guess what I’ll name it if it’s a boy.’
‘Come on, don’t make me guess.’
‘Guess.’
‘Paul? James? Michael?’ He hated guessing games.
She chuckled and shook her head. ‘I’m naming him after you, Raven.’
He frowned. ‘I don’t deserve that.’
‘What? Why?’
He sighed. ‘If you knew what I’ve done, you’d abandon me just like everyone else.’ He flicked the knife open once more, the metal begging to taste blood.
‘What are you talking about?’
Frantic knocking came from the door. ‘Police! Open up, we have you surrounded!’
They both stood up, Raven holding the knife behind his back as his sister walked towards the door. She paused half way, a paralyzing fear talking over her small body. Raven’s warm breaths puffed down her neck. ‘You’re the one that made those people go missing?’ she squeaked.
He pushed her against the wall and plunged a knife into her neck. She tried to scream, but it only made more blood flow.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, his hands painted red. The curtains of delusion were drawn to a close and now he had to face reality. Lucas was a liar. They had found the stew of bodies in the forest.
With a thunderous crack, the door broke down. ‘Raven Holloway, you’re under arrest for the murder of 6 people,’ a detective shouted as he barged in, his gun drawn. When he saw there was another body, he radioed for an ambulance, but knew it was too late. Raven dropped the knife, too stunned to fight back. Cold handcuffs tightened around his wrists. Out the door, armed officers aimed their guns at his chest. It was over. It was all over.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to pixabay.com for the cover and back images. Massive thanks to Glenda Morgan for assistance with editing. It wouldn’t have been the same story without you.
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