A search began in absolute blindness. A journey to continue fourth with nothing brought to sight but a dimmed path and a brick-wall towering over me. That brick-wall refused to reveal the sequences and events that will occur. A brick-wall to one may not be a brick-wall to another, but a brick-wall to me obscures all else. But it has finally exposed signs of something. The disease still hungrily pokes and prods at me, waiting for the next time it can further indulge itself in its addiction, but something is different.
I am given no assurance in what will be accomplished with whichever route I take, but honestly, right now, I don't think I care.
For the first time, the future doesn't seem too frightening. The little boy, sitting, soaked in heaps of his mothers blood, provides me justification. The same justification Belladonna convinces herself of having, and genuinely believes in.
The little boy will forever be looking for something to numb the pain, whether it be alcohol, or something much, much worse. Something like what makes me who I am. I can't make his demons float away, but I can help prevent others from awakening the blind and hungry hunter lying within them. I can bring to justice the people that don't deserve to live and humanize what I do.
I can take from the world the people that not only make what I do okay, but make it the right thing to do.
These are the things Belladonna says, and now, I think I believe her.
The question of what happens now is a question I can almost rejoice in and the answer is something that I can almost look forward to.
Something awakened within me last night that wasn't properly recognized and is now beginning to be understood.
I have shown something I wasn't even aware rested within me, I have shown, one way or another, that I care, and even if the desire to kill does not recede, I don't have to let it control me. Belladonna has seen me for what I am and didn't run away like all the others did.
Last night, we took the life of a murderer, and I think I might look forward to doing it again. It is after taking our first life together that Belladonna heads back to her apartment, and I return to mine.
I find James sleeping on the couch once again, too drunk to make it to his bed. This is how I preferred things, I didn't want to have to explain my whereabouts to him.
“You know it was sketchy work, what you and that girl have been doing lately,” Cepheus states, catching me by surprise as he enters my room.
“How did you get in here!?” I ask, showing my anger.
“I don't see why you're yelling at me when you're the one that has been setting houses on fire. Getting wrapped into the murder of one of the wealthiest ladies in the country and her son,” Cepheus says calmly, without sharing with me any of the emotion that I assume he has somewhere under the charcoal.
“How do you even know about that,” I demand.
“The son was asked questions, and when he was asked about what happened to the mugger that murdered his mother, he said two masked heroes swooped down and took care of him. The dots weren't too difficult to connect. Then, I read in the papers a fire happened in the house of Jacob Nelson, he died, but apparently before all of this, he had been badly beaten. A couple fire fighters said they saw a man and a woman covered in soot, but because it was so urgent for them to put the fire out, they didn't have time to stop and ask questions,” Cepheus explains.
Have I been so careless?
“We weren't the causes of the fire, we were going in hopes of retrieving evidence that connected him to the murder of his father and a few others. I guess we came at a bad time because whoever was in there with Jacob set the house on fire. As for us killing the thug, it wouldn't have mattered if he were attacking the poorest of the poor, I still would have killed him.” I assure.
“Still pretending you care about these people, are we?”
“I'm not pretending and we're going to get attention from the press, we're killing people, it's inevitable. It's going to happen, but I can handle it.”
“You've shown me that you can handle it, but you've yet to show me that you can handle it correctly. You almost got yourself killed, and who exactly is this female that you've affiliated yourself with?”
“She's nobody that concerns you,” I respond, carrying weighted aggravation.
“If she's somebody that concerns you then I suggest separating yourself from her as soon as possible. She isn't like you and I, she can't even begin to fathom why we do the things we do, even we only just understand the gist of it,” Cepheus retorts, carrying the same lack of emotion he has held since the beginning of the conversation.
“You know absolutely nothing about her. She does understand,” I clarify.
“You may have convinced yourself of that, but she doesn't understand. Nobody understands. I had thought you had learned by now to distance yourself from the people around you. There is nothing they can offer you, besides a prey to hunt. You'll never be one of them, there is no reason for you to spend your time pretending to be.”
“Why should I even care about what you have to say?” I ask defiantly. Angry and making it obvious. I can feel sweat on my forehead and heat in my chest.
“I've gone through what you're going through and I'm still going through what you are, she isn't.”
“You have absolutely no idea what I'm going through. I want for you to get out,” I conclude.
“The addiction will never go away, you'll never cure yourself of these feelings. Especially with her, but I can help you find a way, a way to be happy,” Cepheus pleads, now showing a strain of emotion.
Cepheus' face doesn't look happy, and in-fact, it looks to be on the exact opposite side of the spectrum. His stare has the implications of wanting to shoot me and send me tumbling off of a rooftop. Haggard and old, and so assuming it knows everything. Cepheus departs from sight, and seconds later, I hear the front-door shut gently.
The addiction, why, oh why did he have to bring up the addiction? Today started with so much promise. It may contradict what I said, but I don't doubt that Cepheus knows what I'm going through.
He has given in.
I have not and I will not!
The relationships Cepheus believes to be unreal and forced have become something more, I actually care about these people, don't I?
Of course, why would I even ask that question, the answer is unmistakable! The clarity and content has depleted me.
Something else has taken its place, something familiar. I want to kill something, scratch that, I need to kill something.
It is at precisely that moment James stumbles dazedly into my room. He's probably still a little bit drunk so I bet I could take him down easily and kill him before his screams would have the chance to reach anyone.
I'm probably kidding.
“Who was that guy?” James asks somewhat dreamily, having just awoke.
“He's a friend of my foster father and just wanted to check up on how I'm doing,” I say, looking around disappointed to find that there isn't an audience applauding me for my acting.
“I'd think he could have come up with a better time to visit than seven in the morning.”
“True,” I respond trying to come across as sincere. “So, what's new?”
“Nothing really, but I got a call from my dad last night and he said that we can fly out to Hardan tomorrow. He already left yesterday because he had to make arrangements,” James says.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, struck by his words.
“The hunting trip, I told you about it a couple of days ago. You said you wanted to come,” James retorts; agitated.
“Oh, alright, well, I suppose that I'll start getting ready later today, but for now, I have somewhere that I need to be,” I say before preparing to depart.
“Where?” James asks just as I am about to leave the room.
“I just need to stop by the factory and pick something up, I'll be back soon,” I respond before continuing to leave.
I have no desire to go hunting with James and his bad excuse for a father, none at all. I allowed for it to completely slip my mind and would have declined when he originally asked me if I would have thought about it. Fortunately, the silver-lining is that I'll have an opportunity to get away from everything, to clear my head, and recharge my batteries. Either way, before I go, I do want to spend some time doing what I do best.
Do I ask for Belladonna to join me? No, this one's for me, nobody else, she's not the one that needs this right now, I am. It's morning, how do I find my kill? Where do I look? Before I know it, I am outside and the sun's rays are striking against me softly. It is warm. Not hot. Not humid. But warm. How can I be expected to handle not killing someone on a day like this? I come to the entrance of a convenient store and look on.
The front-door is decorated with an array pictures, most of them claiming the store has the best food in town, none of it can satisfy my appetite unfortunately. I walk in and casually glance around directionless as to what it is I am looking for. Besides a compilation of worthless knickknacks, the front-desk is empty, the cashier waves in my direction then immediately loses interest.
He lacks the enthusiasm I would expect from someone that works under the same roof as the best food in town. There are four large aisles in the store, each filled with a variety of items. I am unimpressed, but regardless, I walk down one of the aisles. I have full knowledge of the fact that what I am looking for, whatever that is, it isn't going to be found here. I make it to the end of the aisle before the store decides it is time to prove me wrong.
Suddenly, I feel my attention thrust to the left where a carton of newspapers rest on a shelf in a light-blue bin. Something about it sparks my interest enough for me to actually pick it up and read. The front-page article is about a trial that has apparently concluded:
Cameron Garcia – Silvia Garcia Trial Ends!
Written by Logan Norms
Incredible as it may seem to some, we're finally bidding adieu to the long-lasting trial of Silvia Garcia! Earlier today, an Acera, Ma., jury found Silvia Garcia, 23, not guilty of killing her 43-year-old mother, Cameron, bringing a stunning end to a trial that has ruffled the feathers of several people for months. Both people who knew the family, and people who have followed the plenty of articles since they have been reported now have closure on these events.
Cameron Garcia had originally been reported missing before her remains were discovered and identified near a pier less than a mile from her home. Silvia Garcia had, until recently, been identified as the individual responsible for the crime, with much evidence supporting it, causing the massive uproar. Investigative toxicology, gathered from the autopsy reports, claimed the discovery of tetrahydrocannabinol, the principal psychoactive constituent of the cannabis plant, in her system, suggesting Cameron had been drugged prior to her murder.
This brought Silvia Garcia into questioning for her past with the hallucinogenic drug. Several raving community members, more than many having known both Cameron and Silvia Garcia on a personal level, have brought the dependency of Silvia on the drug to our attention. “She couldn't function properly without her meth,” a reliable source explains. “Her mother always hated her for smoking, always told her she needed help, she was a ticking time-bomb waiting to explode.”
The release of the names of the jury members involved in the decision to acquit Silvia Garcia of all charges is rumored to be postponed for the safety of the individuals and their families. As of this writing, none have stepped forward to give comment on the decision they were entwined to make.
I place the newspaper back into the bin and I begin to further digest the information.
Best food in town, indeed.
The jury may have found reason to rebel against popular consensus. Unfortunately for them, I'm not somebody that will nod my head and take their word for it, I want to see for myself. The worse case scenario is she is innocent and I'll believe that when I see it.
I have a target, but I have little time, who is Silvia Garcia?