What Memory Remains

Chapter 2

"The Red...oh, that glorious red," Zenapharr thought dreamily.

The blood was splashed haphazardly like a Jackson Pollock painting, speckled and pooled over the lush green grass. It was the color of anger, revenge, intensity, desire, passion, and to Zenapharr, more than anything, it was the color of beauty. It brought something out of him that was missing, and he was envigorated.

The afternoon chirps of birds, the gentle breeze, and the bright rays of sun only made the scene more ironic...a mere contrast of beauty to a grotesque calamity. A young fourteen year old Zenapharr knelt dramatically, fixated on his blood covered hands. He would look to them in wonder and look back at the body...the chopped up bits of it, anyway. It was pieces of what was once his friend. The memory was so vivid yet everything right before that moment had faded into a sort of fog. Perhaps he'd blacked out...but he could definitely recall the stabbing, the chopping, the artistic way that the blade sliced through the skin and shot out those wonderful streams of crimson.

At the end of it all, he felt shame wash over him. Perhaps because it was his first kill, or it was because he had gotten so much enjoyment out of it. Either way, that day he only knew two things. One, that it would happen again. Two, that no one would ever find out.

"Zenapharr?" Ostrand said again, snapping the captor out of his daze. "You still with us?"

"Yes...ahhh I must have gotten caught up in the moment."

"Well, I'll say it again to be sure we're on the same page, given your delayed reaction. Tell us about the first person you killed and give as much detail as possible."

"I don't see why this is important. Why are you so curious?"

"Zenapharr...you must understand. The people of Nostromus are distrusting of NOSRAD right now. They think NOSRAD has bred some serial killer amongst them...and as a representative of NOSRAD I want to show them a different side of you. That there's more going on in that head of yours than mindlessly killing people. We want them to understand...perhaps even sympathize with your plight."

"Always the politician, aren't you?"

"You can see it that way if you'd like. The public wants to see you crucified. I don't want that. I need them to see you as you really are...a sick man. One who needs help, and we've taken you here to provide that care. Keep you from hurting yourself or others again."

"I can assure you I wouldn't hurt myself."

"That's not the point. Zenapharr, I want the public to see the troubled Hero of Nostromous. The one who took out the garbage, who has slain numerous tyrants and evil-doers in the name of his good continent! Yet, due to his troubled past and sickness, he slipped somewhere along the way."

"Making me sound like a hero...intriguing."

"That's the gist of it, yes! Public opinion has great sway over these kinds of trials, and can help you from getting the death sentence.

"There's only one problem with that. It's not the truth, William. And even then, why would you want to help a serial killer from getting what he 'justly deserves'?"

"Well first off, if you care about the truth so much, why were you killing people over the years in secret? Doesn't sound like you value the truth as much as you say you do."

"You're a brazen man for someone with only paper and a little pen to protect himself." Zenapharr glowered at William with his intense look, causing William to curve the conversation.

"...but that's not the main thing here. You were the great research project, Zenapharr! You represent a glorious achievement for NOSRAD, and who knows all the applications that could be achieved! Though it seems to the public you're a dirty secret, we will paint you out to be the shining star of what can happen when NOSRAD puts its nose to the grindstone!"