The only conflict I faced was the fact Frank was the only coworker of mine I've taken care of. It's been awhile since it's happened but the thought of someone knowing always slips through my head at night. I do my daily routine and I head to work, I see the faces I get. Everybody knew I hated Frank. It's like they're blaming me in their head. I wonder if they think I'm capable of doing such a thing. "Do I really seem like a murderer?" I ask myself this rhetorical question a lot. I know I'm not a pessimist and I never regret what I do, but there's always precautions I have to take. Being me isn't easy of course. Doing this dirty work isn't for everybody. I feel like this is why I'm here on this planet. I'm helping fix problems. It's a difficult job too. You have to analyze every little detail about somebody and your surroundings. Constant awareness. Etcetera. It's draining, doing what I do is hard, you see? It's not simple. You'll never find any empathy down this path.
But did everyone know I couldn't stand Frank? Did they or was this just another mistake i made in my calculations? I tend to overthink things. Wasn't I extra nice to Frank? I laughed a little louder when he told jokes. I held the door for him or asked if he wanted cream and sugar in his coffee when we were in the break room. I'd imagine my coworkers thought I fancied Frank, and Frank himself I am sure imagined he was my favorite amongst all the lowlifes I had the pleasure of working with. This realization was like a burst of fireworks exploding in my chest. Frank thought I was his friend, and what better way to destroy someone as when their guard is down. My machinations were just about to begin.
YOU ARE READING
Precinct
Mystery / ThrillerIsn't it a sad story when a illness takes over your body. He's aware of what he's doing. He's not oblivious. He's one man, with a series of murders tied to his name and one precinct.
