“Mr. Cliff,” Emilia spoke softly trying to not startle me as she rolled beside me. “This is a lovely service for her.”

A small room held us, along with just under thirty others. Everyone dressed in black. Whispers only to be heard. The smell of smoke and peonies filled the air and a heavy weight of sadness washed through everyone as they paid their respects.

“Thank you Emilia.” I said crouching low so we were more level.

I unfortunately, over the past few days, had lost my sight. I imagined her smile being thin and unwavering. That her eyes were tracing the small crowd, watching and examining.

“Do you miss the ability of sight?” She asked, leaning her head closer to mine.

I scoffed slightly under my breath and shook my head. “Not in the slightest.”

A pause fell between us momentarily before Emilia piped up again. “So who is everyone here? I know you can’t see, but you must have some idea, no?”

I took in a deep breath and concentrated on the multitude of voices in the room. “Far right corner by my mother's casket is the Thimps. Interesting folks, though, most animal protesters are. Beside us, a few feet away, are my cousins. A small family of hard workers and thriving business owners. The few behind are those who used to know my mother from before, they worked with her just before she quit her job in her late forties. In the room beside us is a large family with six kids. They were our neighbors before we moved. Others are friends I never met or given the chance to know.” I wetted my lips imagining the faces and recalling the memories.

“Ah, how interesting.” Emilia hummed. I simply agreed and we continued the rest of the service in silence. It was overall a small, respectful service with a tinge of uncomfortableness between all the guests. They knew her past, her mistakes and of her children. They knew of all the dark secrets and cracks in her sanity.

Though no modest person would dare to address such a dark past at a mournful moment in time.

Ms. Wadsworth and I walked home together after the day had come to an end. Her hand helped me up the few stairs and into my apartment. I was calm and understanding with her silence. The past few days had been hard for her. She blamed herself for allowing this tragedy to happen and had trouble forgiving herself.

I knew she was waiting for me to yell at her. To tell her our arrangement was over, but I somehow never found the energy to do so. My days were now meaningless. No reason to kill, no reason to continue with my life.

I waited years to watch my mother die. Even with this wish I still did as told by fulfilling her wants of making the perfect world. To rid of those who were wretched in society's eyes. But it had come to my attention that maybe I was the one who was wrong.

“Melony,” I said softly as we reached my apartment door. The name rolled off foreignly and unfamiliarly. It had been a long time since I said her first name.

“Yes sir?” Ms. Wadsworth asked hesitantly. Her voice was dry and I listened as she itched her arm.

“I have a job for you but it won’t be till later. Do you promise to do it no matter what?” I was alright with her saying no but I’d find it disheartening if she did.

“Of course sir, anything.” She responded. I gave a half smile then nodded and together we both walked into the silence of my apartment. She flicked on the lights and I found my way to the couch where my mother used to lie.

“Anything you need sir?” She asked her voice full of sincerity.

“Please make some Pu erh tea and tidy up the place. Perhaps pack my mother’s things so that it’ll be easy to sell later on.” The scent of death still hung in the air and I pondered on the thought of what I would do for the rest of the night.

“Yes sir.” She replied starting her short list of chores. As she rustled around I decided that it would be better to think in my room, so I sat up and found my way to my wanted destination. Sitting near the edge of my bed I focused on the sounds. It was different then before but not to a great degree.

I felt like I was spinning. My ceiling fan spun slowly causing a soft and soothing hum. The cars on the street to my right and below were aggressively loud, their engines roaring inside my head. The sink from my kitchen turning on and off caught my attention but not before a slamming noise came from my closet.

“What a pleasant idea,” I stated quietly.

I scoffed slightly and slowly went to my closet, opening the door. “Boy, I have a job for you.” My face went light and I tried to calm his whimpers. “Ms. Wadsworth, a hand if you could.”I called and waited momentarily.

She walked in holding two cups of tea and set them on my desk. She then stepped to my side and waited for further instructions.

“Release him.” I said, walking back to my bed. “Give him a pen and some paper, make him comfortable.”

I heard rustling and the soft pants from a new voice.

“Don’t say a word child.” I continued, “I have your parents somewhere and if you try to run you wouldn’t even make it to the elevator.” I bluffed. The lie ignited something and I was excited to hear how he would react to my demands.

Ms. Wadsworth brought him to my desk and sat him down. She gave him the needed accessories as I had listed before and it was now up to the boy on his choice to obey.

The boy sat at my desk with a heavy feeling and Ms. Wadsworth gave him the extra cup of tea, she clicked on the small desk lamp and soon the boy was prepared for the task I had for him.

“Write everything as I say it. Please.” I said. “We will be writing a letter to someone dear.”

The boy sniffed and prepared himself. Our night had begun.

I drank about three cups of tea and the boy had just over seven. There were a few hours in the night where sirens were relentless and the neighbors were bothersome, but still we trudged through the task I needed to complete.

Ms. Wadsworth excused herself from my apartment after a few hours and the boy was put back into the closet after a bundle of papers were finished.

I laid in bed with my eyes opened. The cool air dried them out but it didn’t hurt like some would think. Instead it was a soothing feeling. I cracked my ankles and blinked a few times as if thinking I would regain my sight by doing so. To no avail I left my eyelids closed and my bottom lip sagged.

It was going to be a Monday in the morning and it would be the day I put in my two week notice. I imagined all the complaints and protests I would receive. I thought about the sad acceptance many would endure and the endless rants from other teachers about their jealousy.

But not only would I be quitting my job, I would also be telling the apartment manager that I would no longer need this living space in a few weeks. That it could go back up on the market in fourteen days.

Morning came slowly and I was unable to tell if I actually slept or not. Ms. Wadsworth, who now had a key, helped me out of bed and into a work related outfit. She filed together my papers and helped me down the hall then into the street. The walk was quiet until she began to hum.

The tune was sweet and stirred memories of when Emilia would hum during the silence between us. I wondered why that tune haunted me. It seems I heard it frequently enough throughout the past year to know how the notes flow together. Up then down, hold then eventually, go back up. I’ve personally never hummed the tune before for I saw no need to. It seemed childish. And I was raised to be modest.

“Here is your room Mr. Cliff. I will be back after your day and help you home.” Ms. Wadsworth said, taking a slight bow before leaving.

I nodded and thanked her then found my seat and waited for my classes to begin. It was difficult at first, to teach, but I was able to find a groove which allowed me to answer questions and teach the well-needed lesson.

Hours passed and eventually the day had come to a close. My classroom door swung open and two pairs of shoes walked in. One matching Ms. Wadsworth’s usual sliding flats and the other a well polished, confident walk.

“Afternoon Mr. Halsted.” I said, putting a smile on my face.

“Impressive.” Said a rough voice. “I guess I made an impression on you throughout these past few years.” A jolly yet slightly sarcastic laugh sounded and I continued to smile politely.

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The laughter subsided and he eventually found the emotion in the room. “So, what is it we needed to talk about?” He asked, clapping his palms together in an uncomfortable mannerism.

I arose from my seat to show my respect and Ms. Wadsworth came to my side almost instantaneously. “I am putting in my two week notice. Next week Friday will be my last. I thank you for giving me this opportunity to teach and grow but I feel as though my time here must come to an end.” I bowed my head and stretched my arm out waiting for his hand to take mine.

“Whoa, Gregory, are you sure about this? I mean, the kids here love you. Your students always succeed and I must admit you are one of the best teachers we have on campus. I’m willing to give you a week or two off but don’t leave yet.” His words soaked in an empathetic emotion. The want behind it was saturating the air and I paused thinking.

I took in a long breath feeling it fill my lungs and my chet rising slowly. Ms. Wadsworth shifted slightly beside me pushing me to make a decision quickly.

“I’m fairly certain that my decision to leave is the best. This job has recently become a hindrance and I am ready to move on.” My boss slouched and I felt his waves of pity and frustration.

“Of course, I’ll be sure to find a replacement quickly. It was a pleasure having a man like you work on my team.” Mr. Halsted grabbed my hand and lightly tapped it with his left.

Ms. Wadsworth and I left, taking the walk home slowly. Noticing all the sounds and smells from the outside I realized where I was. “Melony?” I questioned quietly halting in place. “Mind if I make a little stop?” My voice came out genuine and Ms. Wadsworth was a little afraid but then realized my true intentions.

“Yes sir. I will take you to Emilia.” Her tone was lifted and our trust was slowly growing to what it used to be. Over the past few days I had simply been demanding orders from her and she would comply with no excuse. We never speak and when she was done helping she distanced herself. But now, for once, I felt as though she was starting to become comfortable by me again.

We crossed the street and I was detached from her and brought to the all too familiar room.

I was seated on the couch and I pictured how the room used to look. Floral couches, green curtains and golden rods. But the smell of the room was different. Instead of the normal flower arrangement that used to sit in the center of the table it was now something else. I leaned forward and took in the smells of the flowers.

“Can you tell what they are?” Emilia asked, opening the door behind me. She wheeled herself beside me and I smirked thinking of how to answer.

“Sort of. I can differentiate between the lilac and lilies but… The soil inside is overwhelming that last scent.” Emilia hummed and leaned back in her permanent chair.

“Sapphire,”She answered.

I repeated the word confused at the name.

“The official name is Browallia Speciosa but many refer to it as The Sapphire.” Emilia added. I nodded thinking more on what it may have looked like.

“I feel as though recently flowers have been around me since her death.” I said folding my legs together and stretching my arms over the back edge of the couch.

“So why did you pop in today?” Emilia asked, trying to decide whether she wanted to take notes or not. The question itself was blunt and pushing but I paid no attention to it.

“Honestly, no reason. I just wanted to chat with someone such as yourself.” I replied letting my head bounce back. We sat in silence for a bit letting time pass by but every minute felt slow.

“Would you like to discuss a case?” Emilia started. She was calm and willing to go with any sort of conversation.

I shrugged giving no response but she nodded and went to grab a folder. Within the time she was gone I had stretched and re-adjusted.

“Male, thirty-six. Joshua Grey. Father of one seven year old girl. Shot and stabbed to death. No murder weapons found, no evidence of a break in and the girl missing.” Emilia cocked her head to the right and watched my expression change from slight apathy to amusement.

“The girl is missing?” I asked, avoiding the obvious conversation.

“Yes, there were no witnesses and we assume that the murderer had an accomplice based on the two types of wounds. With the girl missing and no trace of any sort of evidence it is very puzzling. Have any ideas?” Emilia pressured.

“Perhaps. Though if I tell you, you must do something for me.” I sang. I let my sound come out low and I smiled, deciding to not hide my mischievous atmosphere.

“What would you like?” Emilia asked, pulling herself closer and laying her hands on the armrest between us. I reached forward slowly and grabbed her hands within mine. They were soft and light. I felt the veins underneath the paper thin skin. The smooth tendons and nerves huddled together in a gracious pattern.

“Don’t resist.” I whispered. I listened as Emilia's breathing halted and hitched. I could tell she was nervous but willing to do what it took for my response. “I believe there was only one killer, he went into the home with a plan in mind. Fulfilled his plan and the daughter.” I rubbed my thumb along the knuckle of her’s. “She helped.”

Intrigued by the new idea she leaned in and got into the same hushed tone as I. “Why?” She asked.

“What do you know about the father’s behavior? The relationship between the two. Figure out why a man’s child would play a hand in the murder of that bond.” I finished and leaned closer placing my lips upon Emilia’s cheek. The warmth she produced was exhilarating. I wanted to taste the salt from her skin. I wanted to smell more of her scent.

After a few long moments, I leaned back and found my way out of the room. “Till next time, Dear.”

I knew Emilia wouldn’t just sit there stunned. She, instead, would get to work immediately trying to find connections and answers. She would look into my ‘theory’ and eventually match my story with fact.

The murder was one of my more fascinating ones. The father and I hardly knew one another but we never agreed on anything. He was a kind man to the public eye so I contemplated his life but once I saw his daughter I knew, he was broken.

His home was small yet grand. Fine pieces of art and delicate tapestries. A simple two story house with glass walls and rock formations inside. Entering was easy enough, for the house maid let me in.

Noises could be heard and I followed them curiously til I was met with the sight of him beating his daughter. She screamed and cried begging for it to end.

I stepped in the room but neither noticed. I found a chair in the corner of the room and examined them. The man was tall and lanky. His greasy blonde hair scattered and the loose strands played against his brows. His piercing blue eyed stare shot through the girls body as his arms came down again and again. The sound his punches produced were exhilarating and I smiled at the scene.

The girl laid on the ground huddled into the fetal position. Her hands covering her head and her legs tucked into her chest. Minutes passed and I knew I was enjoying this more than I should have. But the power behind his abuse was interesting. What was it the girl had done to deserve this kind of beating? How was he okay with harming his only child?

Society looked down on his behavior yet here I was, sitting and smiling at the display.

The man ceased his attacks and straightened his back. I saw the pools of sweat layer his skin. His shirt drenched while his skin glistened. A sight to see indeed.

I brought my hands together slowly and took a stand. My first, slow clap caught his attention and they both looked at me. His expression went from shocked to bitter almost instantaneously and I smirked at the outcome I was presented.

“Who are you?” The man shouted, taking a step forward.

“My name is Gregory. We’ve bumped into each other a couple times at work.” I casually responded.

“Bullshit. I’ve never seen you before. Get out of my house!” The man swung his arms out dramatically trying to become bigger than me. But I was no little girl.

“Or what?” I mocked. I reached behind my lower back and grasped the warm handle of my gun. Drawing it out, the man hesitated then snorted.

“You can’t shoot me.” He said as his hands lifted into the air. I cocked my head to the right and found my finger tracing the trigger. The little girl got up and ran from the room. I twitched thinking of what she might be doing. Time was running out but I was having so much fun. The audible gulp from the man entranced me and I took in his figure. Fear racked his body and his eyes searched mine for forgiveness. I wanted more.

“Get on your knees.” I chirped.

Tears began to fall from the man's eyes. “Please, I-I swear I won’t ever touch her again. I’ll do better I…” His sobs choked him from saying anything further.

Thumping could be heard from the hall and in came the little girl. Within her hands layed a knife from the kitchen.

“How inspiring.” I whispered. My finger pulled and a shot rang throughout the room. The man crumpled to the ground not making a single sound. Instead small, quick breaths were heard. His dark red blood seeped into the carpet floor and I crouched low to watch.

“Why didn’t you call the police?” I asked, not looking at the little girl behind me.

She was silent and walked over the body raising the knife above her head. The bruises on her arms were swollen and her cheeks red.

“Because I wanted to help.” She laughed.

It was amazing to see such a small little girl take the final breaths from her own father. Over and over she pushed the blade through his back. Letting it sink deeper into different areas. All she could hear was the simple sound of murder and her sight was covered by red.

Eventually she stopped and held the knife in her hands. We sat quietly taking in the smell of his death.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” I asked.

All she could do was nod.

“Mr. Cliff?” Ms. Wadsworth called. I was now sitting in my room listening to my ceiling fan spin.

“Yes?” I questioned.

“Why is it you wanted to see Emilia?” She asked.

The question was peculiar, for Ms. Wadsworth had never wondered about my actions before. I sat thinking of how to respond.

“I’m testing something out.” I answered. “And only Emilia can be my main experimental group.”

I felt my nurse hesitate but accept my words. “Is there anything you need for today?”

I shook my head content with the day. “Then I shall take my leave.” She said walking from my apartment and locking the door behind her.

My mind examined the activities that took place throughout the day. No more working, my apartment, from what I could sense, was becoming more vacant, and Emilia and I’s relationship was morphing. Everything was going according to plan.

“Splendid.”

I arose from my seat near the kitchen and found my way into my bedroom. My upstairs neighbors were loud but I enjoyed the background noise for once. I rubbed my face and made the motion of avoiding glasses. It was odd to not have them on my nose but ever since I lost my vision there was no need to wear them.

My chest became heavy and I suddenly thought of suffocating. I wasn’t sure how to feel about this, but I endured the pain it produced. I fell backwards onto my bed and drifted to sleep feeling as though a weight of some sort was covering me.