But I Shall Tell

Chapter 10 - The Art of Killing.

Dec 13, 2019

Bruce's body was lying on the floor, with lines at places. Missing skins and flesh at intervals. His eyes were closed like he was sleeping. The old clock's small hand had passed 7 and the long hand was at 3.

A plastic bag was neatly placed on the blood stained stairs steps that had a pair of scarlet gloves. Foot prints in a circle, around Bruce were new. The blood on the stairs and the walls had clotted but blood on the ground was fresh.

"I guess," Maan said, who was sitting on the stairs, "he was a milk boy," shaking his head. "Too much calcium in the opponent's bones is not good for my hands." He sighed heavily.

Is there a different world where our thoughts wander? If yes, Josea was calmly sitting there right now. She hadn't moved after the first leg was placed like a puzzle away from Bruce's body.

The art of killing had soaked him with sweat, so he had removed his suit and placed it on the stairs. There was no point in playing the game fully dressed.

He stood without the support of his hands, which was crucial, you never touch anything with your naked hands, chances are your finger prints stay at the crime scene and you get called back for the free cup of coffee which you never ordered.

He walked past the pieces of Bruce following the bleeding body of Simon and reached where Josea was sitting. "Simon." Maan said.

She lifted her chin slightly up making an eye contact with him. Too exhausted to say a word so she looked in a questioning way.

He wiped the blood from his cheeks and lips with his arm, blood was all over him. His shirt, his pant, and even his hair. He bit his lips impatiently.

Was something wrong with him?

"It's Simon's turn." Maan said, winking at her. But he didn't see any kind of response from her, not the one he expected or wanted.

The clock was ticking.

He than slowly sat across from her, looking at her like he was looking at some amusing creature in a zoo. But even in the zoo the creatures had their own space to move. Here she was constrained to this wooden chair.

He moved his right hand a bit forward, towards her touching her hair with his fingers. He was playing with it. Measuring the length and tugging it at one side beside her ear.

With his index finger, he then made a crisscross on her forehead, slightly moved it down. He eyebrows were faint and soft, they felt like a crafted bird's feather destined for just her and for his to touch. He moved it a bit lower, to the nose and slid it to the side on her cheek. He patted her cheek softly and carefully with his palm making a cup. Her left cheek turned red.

Still no reaction.

He brought his hand under her chin and lifted it up. Her head tilted upwards and her eyes ran to the ceiling automatically.

"Rain," Maan said, and let go of her chin. "I missed you so much. You would not believe the kind of loneliness that I felt without you. My princess. My Tortoise."

Drops of tears faintly running from the corners of her eyes. He wiped with his both hands and cupped her face. She looked adorable, like a doll.

"Rain, do you remember the blue color card with a humming bird on it, the one that I gave you on your birthday? How old were you then? Mmm, I can't recall. It's been so long, you must have forgotten, let me read it out what I had written that previous night." Maan said. He could feel her breath on his.

"Tortoise, ....no wait, it was ' A man and a Tortoise'.

I don't climb roses,
Nor my dreams
For the moon
To have fingertips.
I visit countries.
I walk alone.

Nude,
I see the birds sing
On a cabin.

I then, let myself in
And I --"

There is a sound and he let go of her. The sound came from the basement. A faint one but it did, he heard it. "Will be back." Maan said and left her alone with her thoughts.

Simon needed medical attention if she needed him to survive. His blood mixing with the blood of Bruce's. It was scary to look at the pieces of Bruce. She turned her head towards the body and made a sad face. Bruce was no more, but Simon was still alive according to Maan. She could see slight rise and fall of his chest when she concentrated herself.

She screamed again, but this time her sound did not match to the tone when she had screamed many minutes ago. The phone rang again.

It was Ashley, she was calling him to talk about her new discoveries. Being so near the phone she couldn't answer it. The depression was getting it to her.

How many more people were down? And how many alive? Wasn't he yet satisfied with one blood on his hand? Was he planning to do a massacre in this house? Was it a competition to him of how many killing he could do in one night? Wasn't he tired of his thought? One by one all these questions were swirling her head and making her think.

The picture on the phone screen was of a girl's who looked excited, Ashley. She was always a happy kind of person who adored Maan. Josea was once her best friend, but things changed and they moved on.

A cry came from the basement which was audible. Who was it this time? She couldn't recognize. The helplessness was killing her as much as Maan was killing people in front of her eyes. But why tie her and the not others if he wanted to have fun? And haven't anyone got up from the drug so far?

Oh, someone did and he went down to give the drug again? How long does he plan to do this, all night? Did he sleep during the day to butcher people in the night?

The phone rang again.