Murderer

   I stepped in the boat and sat inside. It was not a big space and it all smell like fish but, given the circumstances, I didn’t thought I should say or do anything about those two things. Little things, might I add, compared to the situation at hand. Onboard came the man that had been pointing at me with his gun all along but then the other one, the one that seemed less likely to shoot at any given opportunity, told him to step out of there and let him do it. There was no one else that could help me and it was too dark too distinguish anything more than the water, the boat and the armed man that had stepped out and disappeared.

 The man I was with had turned the engine and we were traveling fast. The sea was calm and there seemed to be no fishing boats or ferries that could see us. It was almost as if it was meant to be that way and, of course for me, that wasn’t so good.

 After what seemed liked an hour of journey into the open sea, the man stopped the engine and looked straight at my eyes. It was unsettling, as he was one of those people with very bright eyes that make you feel uncomfortable when you look directly at them. I had always wondered if they knew they made people feel that uneasy.

-       Did you really do it?

 There it was. It had been obvious; from the moment they had kidnapped me in my home that he wanted to ask that question so bad. Right then, he seemed eager to know the truth behind all of this, probably the truth about why he was with me right in the middle of the ocean, where no one will ever hear us talk or say the most amazing of truths. I could almost tell he was sweating, the stains beneath his armpits growing, his upper lip trembling at my sight.

-       What is that I apparently did?

 The man snored a bit, smile and kind of laughing. He was nervous. It was so obvious: his hand trembled when he wiped off his sweat and his smile wasn’t the one of a man that feels safe or sure about anything anymore. Maybe, after all, the wrong man had stepped in the boat with me.

-       We were hired.

-       I assumed as much

-       You killed a family.

-       Yes.

 The man seemed to tremble once more, due to my “confession”. To be honest, I’ve never really hidden anything about what I’ve done. I’ve made my peace with it all, specially then, when I seemed so close to death. Why lie to him when he was obviously so eager to know the truth, so eager to think he knew or that he understood what his task was all about.

-       And you say it like that? So… So cool and casual? Are you crazy?

-     I’m not mentally unstable, although the fact that I’ve killed makes me very likely to have one of those fancy disorders every murderer seems to have these days.

-       How many more?

 I couldn’t contain a smirk when he asked this. Not only because I knew it would make him tremble again, but also because people were always like that, wanting the morbid little details of how I had done something or the other. It was so typical of every single person in the world to apparently feel disgusted and scared but deep down, been utterly interested in what I had to say about all the corpses I’ve created. They sometimes seem even more interested that I was when I did what I did.

-       I don’t know. I’d rather not count.

-       The people that hired told me you raped their…

-       No. That’s not true.

 The man appeared to want to leap over me but he contained himself. Apparently he thought that I was denying the truth and that made him even more frustrated and confused but the truth was, and still is, that I never raped anyone. I’ve heard the stories, on the news and so on. They said I was ruthless but then they began to say I raped people and that’s just incorrect. If I had any more feelings I would be hurt.

-       They said…

-       You trust too much on your clients. Never thought for a second they could be lying?

-       I talked with them and…

-     Oh yes, because people are incapable of lying when they hire a hitman. Is that what you are because you seem pretty bad at this?

 There. Shaking like a leaf. I know he’s scared of me, thinking I’m some kind of animal, a beast that has to be put down. But the fun thing is that he knows or feels he cannot contain me for long and, most curiously, he seems to think I’m not guilty of this all. Because, why else would he be asking all these questions? Then again, it might be only that he’s fucking scared and he’s just stalling, avoiding the killing.

-       Are you going to kill me anytime soon?

-       Shut up.

-       It was you who began the interrogation.

 The man seemed to be thinking. I bet he was trying to decide what to do next. Maybe he thought that I might be more valuable dead than alive. The police were looking for me, that’s for sure, and I had a reward sign on my head. Apparently he wasn’t as stupid as he looked, thinking of the best way to profit properly from this assignment. He could even surrender me to the police and collect the money all by himself, leaving the other idiot to mend for himself, thinking I was dead.

-       You killed many people.

-       I know.

-       And you don’t regret it?

-       No. Why should I?

-       You’re not sorry? Not even for one of those murders?

 I looked at him carefully, trying to decide what to say. There was something more in all of this, something that had eluded me from the start. The moment they had taken me from my home it had been all about the other guy, the tall one. He had threatened me, put a bag on my head, and pointed the gun straight to my heart. This guy I was with had only driven us to the dock and then had decided to kill me, at the very last minute. And then, it became clear.

-       Don’t tell me that I killed your wife or brother?

 The man went crazy when I said those words. He threw himself at me and started punching me all over: on the face, the chest, the stomach and the head. My hands were still tight behind my back so there wasn’t much I could do except moving violently, in order not only to drive him away but also to make the boat turn sideways to escape swimming. He couldn’t chase me through the ocean.

 But nothing of the sort happened. He just stopped beating the fuck outta me and decided to breath heavily, as far as he could from me. It hurt; I’m not going to say it didn’t. But there was no damage that he could do that would really hurt me. I was beyond all of that at that point. He could have stabbed me and I wouldn’t have cared at all. My lips were cracked, bleeding and all my body was numb from his punches but I wasn’t bad enough to look at him from my corners and smile.

-       Predictable.

-       Shut up…

-    You know, even if you do kill me, nothing is going to bring anyone back? It won’t happen.

-       Shut up!

-       The dead are done. Believe me, I know.

 Then, the guy pulled out the gun and pointed at me. He no longer trembled but he was still sweaty and his eyes were wide open, as if he wanted to be sure of what he was doing. I cleaned my face a bit from my blood without breaking the link between our eyes. Maybe he was going to kill me, maybe this was it for me but it didn’t matter. He was one more of my victims and that was enough for me. So I laughed.

 The bullet pierced right through my brain, coming out the other end and falling in the water. The man pushed my body to the water and left. He knew my body was going to be found and that everyone would know a murderer was now dead. And no one would be interested in knowing who killed me because I deserved it. But, in the end, I knew that just before the end he had been mine and that was all worth it.

The Hunt

He let his body fell into the water. It felt like ice surrounding him but he didn't mind at all. He spend a whole minute below water, before he had to emerge again, a bit less dizzy.

The lake was almost pitch black at this time of night, only the moon casted some light over the water and the nearby trees.

The man pulled out of the water, on the other side of the lake, and stripped down, entering the water again, now naked. The water felt less chilly now but he shivered anyway, his teeth chattering also.

He swam a few meters away from the shore but came back after his buttocks and feet started to hurt from the cold. As he had no way of drying himself with a towel, he remained naked, sitting down on a big rock, waiting for the water to slide down his body.

As he stroke his skin to get the water off, he heard the barking of dogs, far away, on the other side of the lake. So he had run far faster than them but they were still looking for him. He kept drying himself with his hands, making a special effort to hear every single sound on the forest.

Again, he heard the dogs, nearer. He grabbed his clothes and hid among some trees and waited there. Sure enough, a group of five men, each with a german Shepard dog, scouted the area, walking fast all along the shore. The dogs seemed puzzled as his scent ended there, in the edge of the lake. They were there for almost an hour, even checking the water with a flashlight.

After the hour, they left, entering the forest on the other side. The man could finally breath at ease and came out of the trees again. He left his clothes on the floor and sat down. He began to think on all that had happened that night. It was unreal to him, it seemed like a really bad prank. But it wasn't. Somehow, all of it happened.

He gazed at the clothes and saw that they still had stains of blood all over. Even if he got rid of the stains, he knew the police was aware of his clothes when he escaped their custody, so he decided to dig a hole and put them there. As he covered it all with dirt, he watched the sky: the night was clear and beautiful. He could see all the stars above and the constellations. He finally found the North Star and stood up.

He pointed at the star and moved his hand down, to a point behind the trees he had been hiding on went the dogs and police came. He then washed his hands, stomped on the ground to make it seem natural and then penetrated the forest.

The man walked for several hours and when he finally got to the edge of the forest, he encountered a road. No car was visible. it must have been really early in the morning and he knew it wasn't wise to be a naked guy near a road as it would be very suspicious.

He decided to cross the land, away from all roads or paths. His skin got scratched and hurt several times by barb wire and other elements that separated every single lot on his path.

That night, he didn't sleep. He just couldn't and wouldn't either. He decided to keep walking and when he got tired, he just lay on the ground, preferably on grass or against a tree, were shadows protected him.

The next day, he passed by a house that appeared to be empty. He grabbed some sweatpants and a hoodie from their clothes line and then stood by the back door for several minutes. He doubted if he should go inside or maybe try some other site. He needed shoes and socks, if he could find them. His feet were in very bad shape.

He finally decided to go in, as he was desperate and waiting was not an option. He knocked on the door and shouted "Hello?". He preferred, if people were inside, to be believed a homeless man and not a crazy killer or something.

The first room was the kitchen and his stomach growled instantly. He looked on the cupboard and grabbed some bread and drank milk that he found in the refrigerator. When he was done, he walked to the next room, the dining room. Connected to a sitting room.

Everything was so well done, so well decorated. There were pictures too, of a happy family: Mom, Dad, an older son and two younger daughters.

 - Who are you?

Scared by the voice of a young girl, the man dropped the picture and the glass shattered into a thousand pieces on the ground.

The girl was standing not too far from him. She was holding a knife. She looked 14, maybe older. She was wearing pijamas and slippers.

 - What are you doing here?
 - Please...
 - I'm calling the police.
 - No! Please. No...

The girl did not move from her spot. She got closer as he walked back to the kitchen. There, the girl opened a drawer and pulled out a gun. She left the knife on the counter. Pointing at him, she talked again:

 - Why did you took our clothes?
 - I was... I don't have clothes. Just, let me go, please.

The man gave a few steps towards the back door but the girl charged the gun and yelled " Don't you move!". The man, too weak to argue, fell on his knees and begged her to let him go. He swore he wasn't a thief or a murderer. He only needed clothes as he was escaping.

 - So you belong to the police. What innocent person escapes?

He gazed up and looked her, straight to her eyes.

 - Someone who is desperate.

On that precise moment, the girl flinched. The guy took advantage of this and stood up fast, pushing the door hard and running as fast as he could. The girl stood on the door and fired three times but she seemed to have failed her target.

When her parents got home, she told them all about the intruder. Her dad called the police and officers scouted the area but no one was found. However, some blood did appear on some corn crops belonging to the family's neighbor.

No one ever saw that man again. Months after his intrusion into that house, they found the clothes he had taken in a bin inside a restaurant located 20 kilometers to the north. But they never stopped looking for him. He was believed to be the killer of, at least, six people in the most brutal way possible. but the truth was even more twisted and difficult to believe. It was easier to hunt him down.