The Masked Gentleman

Chapter 1

"Lucifer!"

The kid jumped up, a pen stuck to his face as he looked up at me.

His head had been resting on the desk after a tiring night shift at the office.

"Your shift is up, you can leave." I said, before he ran away to get some more sleep.

I sighed and took his place at the desk.

It was the morning after the murder, and we had no new leads on his whereabouts.

I grabbed a pen and started writing, best way to calm nerves and release stress is to write. Or at least it is for me.

Which is one of the biggest reasons I hate this fucking gentleman.

He's taken something I love, and... twisted it.

Whenever I pick up a pen, the only thing I can think about is him, how can I stop him? Who will be next?

No, concentrate, you can do this.

~~~~~~

Blood red, dark red.

A dark crimson red, lacing my fingers.

Running down my palms and onto the floor below.

Dying the white carpet, red.

Blood red.

Tears slowly roll down my cheeks.

Mixing with the redness on my hands.

Like it's trying to purify my sin.

I regret.

I wish it had never happened.

I regret everything.

However, my mind is perfectly clear.

As she sits on the chair.

Eyes blank.

Mouth agape like she's trying to scream.

However no sound is heard.

As she is...

Dead.

~~~~~~

What did I just write!

I quickly scrunched up the paper and threw it into the bin.

People would think I'm going insane if they read that.

Am I insane?

I grab a pen and draw a small heart on my wrist.

Whenever I start to drift, I will look at my wrist, and remember who I am, what I have to do.

I cannot let this Masked Bitch get to me.

~~~~~~

Having no leads, really made things hard, I had to tell a destrought mother that her son was killed and there was absolutely nothing we could do.

Hell, I was really trying not to break down with her.

He left no leads of what was coming next, I had no idea what he wore, I just knew he was a guy.

Why?

Because of the notes he leaves me.

He claimed to be called the Masked Gentleman, he left the time of death exactly and the way they were killed. And always my name.

Not Lucifer, not any other investigator.

Me, Officer Adam Jackson.

But, he had this peculiar style too.

Like he knew exactly who he was writing a story, not a note.

I couldn't read this person at all, what was their motive?

I slammed my fist into the desk to stop my thoughts, this wasn't getting me anywhere.

I needed to search the crime scene, maybe he left something else for me.

I slowly stood up from my chair and turned towards the door, however their stood a woman.

Well, actually, my daughter.

17 years old, College student. She has my black hair and her mother's gorgeous blue eyes. She got her mother's physique though, tall and skinny. Unlike me, who needed to get his act together.

"Jenny, what are you doing here?" I asked, genually suprised that she had visited me at work.

"You left without a word this morning, I got worried." She said gentally.

"Ah, I'm sorry. I've just got a lot of work to do today. Aren't you supposed to be at college anyway?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"Tut tut, don't change the subject, you never leave without telling me." She waved a finger at me, telling me off.

"I'm sorry, I really am." I said quickly trying to shut her off so I can leave.

Don't get me wrong, I love my daughter to death, but I don't want her involved in my work.

"You don't seem busy though, I just watched you write a story." She chuckled, and I froze.

Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.

"I was just calming my nerves, you know how stressful my work can be."

"Hmm, mind if I read it?" Jenny said innocently.

"Yes, I do!"

Why was I getting so worked up, this is so unlike me.

"Dad, what's wrong, you never get like this."

Well, she noticed.

She's smart alright.

I sighed and stood back up straight, putting my wrist Infront of my face and looking at the heart.

This heart has more meaning that just calmness.

This heart shows my love for my wife, who was the first victim of the Masked Gentleman.