From a Killers Perspective

Published October 17, 2014 by imagine525

WARNING

I hope nobody will be offended by this post. This is my very first “dark” post/story. Remember it is fiction!

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Detective: Explain what happened on the night of October 17, 2014.

It’s been one long hard year. One year ago, I found my wife and children laying in pools of blood, dead on our living room floor. One year ago from this night, I was at work, doing my job to support my family. One year ago from this night, I tried with all of my might to save their lives, even though I knew there was no life let to be saved in them. One year ago today, I started the hunt to find the heartless person who killed my wife and kids. My name is Gavin Reese, and I am, for the first time in my life, about to commit a murder.

A cool breeze is weaving through the trees as I stand on the edge of a forest, looking at a two story house. The house looks old, uncared for. There is garbage in the giant yard with weeds overgrown, some of the windows are boarded up, and the paint is falling off. I could tell at one point this must have been a beautiful home, now it is the most unsightly home for miles around.

Dim light was peering out from some of the broken windows that weren’t boarded up yet. This light was casting an illumination out onto the surrounding lawn. I was now watching from behind a thick layer of brush from the start of the driveway. A dark shadow from inside the house was looking out onto their lawn. When a nearby church town chimed twelve, the shadow disappeared into the light, and I knew that it was now my time.

I started toward the house, pay attention the few broken, dimly lit windows I could see into. I made sure to walk along the edge of the forest in an attempt to keep myself hidden from any onlookers. When the forest ended, I was forced into talking through long, thick, dead weeds. I could feel the blade of my knife rubbing against my leg with every movement. The gun attached to my hip, was making me feel alive. Before I knew, I was at the large, brown painted, front door.

I stood tall, out of my crouching position, and I pressed my ear to the door. I was trying to get a feel of where the killer was. It sounded like the killer wasn’t alone, but the voices sounded distant, like they were upstairs. Pricking the lock was harder than when I was practicing. I had this down, and it took me three tries to get it. My nerves were really starting to kick in.

I was trying as hard as I could to keep my hand steady as I was turning the brass door knob. I pushed the door open, and I entered the muggy, small, dimly lit, living room. I knew I was in the right house immediately. It had the same smell that was lingering on my dead wife’s and kids bodies; mold with some type of an air freshener.

I kept walking inside which lead to a dark hallway, with stairs at the end. As I start ascending the stairs I hear movement, so I know I’m headed in the right direction, but I still can’t tell where they are.  I check every single door as I was walking down the hallway on the second floor. They were all locked, it was like they were expecting me.

Once I reach the window at the end of the hallway, I realize something is wrong. I can only hear my own heartbeat, I feel like I am being watched. Then it hits me, I am no longer the hunter. I am being hunted. I turn around, and I have no time to react. I man in a black hooded sweatshirt comes charging at me. He crashes into me and I feel glass breaking against my back. Then all I feel is me failing with someone on top of me.

When I have a child, my favorite hobby was climbing trees. Sometime I would fall out of them and land on my back. The wind would be knocked out of my lungs, and I would struggle to get a grasp of air in. Then pain I felt then, was nothing like the pain I was experiencing now. It was if my throat had sealed on the impact of my landing and it refused to reopen.

As I was struggling to breath, I could feel blood leaking from my back from where the glass had cut me. When I gained enough energy, I climbed up onto all fours and I saw the hooded man walking toward me like a spider coming back to its home. When he stopped in front of me, he had a knife in his hands.

Without any hesitation I pulled my knife out and stabbed the hooded man in his thigh. As he was collapsing, he swung his knife, and it made a gash on my face.  I struck him again in his arm, and his screams echoed through the hills around us. I saw my chance and I jumped on top of him.

As I had him pinned down I realized I needed to know something before I did anything else. I asked him “Why! Why did you do it?” And, you know what his answer was? “Because, they were home.” He told me my children have my eyes. I smiled at him, and I thrust my knife into his chest.

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