Chapter 1: Heathen 

Yet another one of those feelings. Another man loses his mind and takes out his family before pointing the barrel at himself. I don’t even see the color of the homes I walk into anymore. It’s all become gray to me over the years. Ever since I lost her I feel like my senses have been dulled to the point I’m as useful as a rusted kitchen knife. You know what it’s for but no one has any use for it. After that day I feel like I only had eyes for the job. Every single drop of blood accounted for but I couldn’t tell you the date with a gun to my head. I know they’ll think I’m crazy if I told them so I just keep it to myself. I need proof. I need to find a way to prove that these things exist. Maybe then I can stop this for good. From a stolen candy bar at a gas station to killing the person you love most. I swear that they have something to do with this. The little fuckers that ruined my life. Proving they are real is the only thing that keeps me going at this point. Walking into the dining room I see that this is once again not just an act of passion. The devil on our shoulder they call it. As if the angel would ever be there to help. Another kid and their mother, taken just before dinner. Their plates weren’t even finished before this bastard cut their lives short. What kind of person has a gun near the dining room anyway? Maybe they deserve it. We only get to see the aftermath. Maybe she was a bitch. Her little brat wouldn’t eat the dinner his mom worked hours on just because he didn’t like veggies. What made this man do it? The blood tells all. Let’s go over this one shall we? Three people in the house having dinner. A nice roast ham would set them back a pretty penny. Coupled with three sides shows that she knew her way around the kitchen. Lucky man. So what did it? The bruising on her wrist match the size of his hand. Probably a struggle. Not a lot of scratch marks on him though. Didn’t stay close to each other long. Looks like a tooth on the ground. Judging by the direction it rolled on the carpet it was a pretty big hit. Explains the bruising under her left eye. Got some bruising on the back of his left hand near the wrist. Probably a back hand to show dominance. Carving knife on the ground with a couple broken plates all going the same way.  Looks like she went for it but missed. Looks like a scraped right knee. I’d put my money on her falling when she got hit likely reaching for the knife. Seems like the carpet got turned a little. Some dust marks make it look like it’s not normally this crooked. Rotated clockwise heading near the upright piano. Clearly he was trying to get there in a hurry before she got up. I’d bet the gun was next to the piano judging by the fact that theres a fresh jagged edge scrapped on the leg in the front. Normally an old scrape on wood would have worn down. He grabbed it and took a quick shot. Explains the shell in the chest. Not enough time to aim for the head. He wanted to make sure he made his shot count. 

“Got anything Hanes?” a voice at my back tickles my ear. It’s Shaw. An old friend from back in the war. Poor sap was so lost after that hell hole that he followed me into this one. 

“Looks pretty cut and dry” I told him while I take a scan of the room. 

“What do you think happened?” He asked me.  

“Well I’ve got a couple questions before I can know for sure but my guess is they got in a fight just before dinner. She tried to make a quick getaway and he didn’t like that. When he noticed her try to grab the knife at the edge of the table he gave her good one to her side knocking her down just long enough for him to take her out.” 

“What about the kid?” He asks. Been in the force same amount as me and can’t even see it. 

“He joined after.” I said. I can see they don’t get it but it’s ok. Not everyone has been there first hand. 

“Kid was in the living room. Finishing his show first. Dad got angry at mom then the kid had to go next.” 

“How are you sure? TV’s not on and the plate is served.”

“Take a better look at the TV. Sure it’s off but it’s still warm. Also this kid cried. There’s a small wet stain on his shirt that’s clearly not blood. I’d guess he gave the kid at least 5 minutes before taking him out.”

“Why would you say that?” He asked jotting down notes of every word I’m saying. 

“Kid’s face down on his mother with a shell in the back of the head covered in blood. That’s more than I can see a four year old bleeding. And her clothes looks like it’s been grabbed multiple times by small hands.”

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“And him? How’d he go?” He asks me still scribbling away. 

“Looks like he went calm. Chain on the door when we got in with a small smearing of blood shows he locked it after all of this. Same for turning off the TV. he even put the chairs back in there place before finishing his meal.” 

Crazy bastards always go calm in their last moment. 

“Once he was done he stuck the barrel down his throat and pulled the trigger.” 

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to these scenes.” Shaw saying out loud like a rookie. I can’t believe he still has any innocence after the nights we’ve had overseas. 

“And motive?” He asked me.

“When the men went upstairs did they find a packed bag?” I asked fully knowing there would be. 

“There was. But how…” 

“She was leaving him. She just didn’t have the smarts not to tell him. Little did she know he was already aware. First there’s only three shells in the gun. And on top of the piano is the box that’s been freshly dusted off. Not sure how he found out but this wasn’t out of passion. This was planned.” 

Shaw takes a quick shallow breath as he writes down the rest of my findings. I can see the kids uneasy hands but he just keeps coming back. 

“Get the clean up over here and let’s go.”

The smell of blood had stuck to my nose like gum on my shoe and it was reminding me of other times. 

“I’ll wait in the car.” I told him. They didn’t need me there anymore. 

Fifteen minutes go by and Shaw joins me in the car. 

“Good job as always Hanes. Not sure how you do it.” He says fastening his seatbelt. 

“You just have to look Shaw. The whole story in painted right in front of you.” I said biting at him a little more than I should have. 

As he turns the keys he pauses for a second and takes a deep breath.

“Want to go get drink?” He says 

“I’m drinking alone tonight. Just bring me home.” 

As we make our way through the streets at night, we don’t talk. I don’t want to anyways. Not tonight. 

“See you tomorrow Shaw.” I tell him as I get out of the car. He steps out with me and places his elbows up on the hood of the car. 

“It’s today isn’t it? The anniversary.” He asked me. 

I take a breath and look up to the streetlit sky. 

“Ya… it’ll be 4 years at midnite.” 

I didn’t really want to talk about it. To this day it shakes me to my core.

“Listen, If you need anything just let me know.” He said. Always there to give out a helping hand. 

“Thanks, Aaron.” I said dropping my head to your feet. 

“You know… I know it’s been a long time. But they still might find who did it. Amanda wouldn’t want you still hung up about it though.”

“Ya I know. I’m gonna go. See you tomorrow Shaw.”

I know he means the best. Never met a man with such a kind heart but I couldn’t think about it tonight. I make my way to my apartment door waving Shaw away. The rancid piss smelling home that I’ve stayed in since that fateful day. The day I lost her. The day all the colour in my life left. Just like those years ago I climb those creaky steps waking up every soul within the building. I can afford better. I just don’t think I deserve it. This is all I’m worth at this point. 

After giving the usual shoulder to open my door, I make it to my dimly lit kitchen. The one working light left in the home. Why bother changing it? I’m at work more than I’m home anyways. It’s not like I’m planning to have anyone over anyways. 

“Fucking Shaw.” I utter to myself while removing the plastic wrap off my half drank bottle of whisky. Two ice cubes as always. It’s not that I like the ice. I just prefer it cold. I take off my tie and place it one the ragged La-Z boy I found on the street corner and take a seat. I pulled out my gun and placed it on the arm rest and sat back deep into the broken in pillows. The first sip always stings as the heat races down my chest. Shaw is loyal to a fault. He seems to refuse to see the devil on our shoulders. Little does he know they are real. The devils that rule our minds. Every dark thought we are compelled to act on. Every regret we have from the mistakes we make. The heathens are responsible. They make you do things you would never do. Hurt those you love. That man tonight. He was yet another victim. Pushed to act without thought. Only to come to after the pain has set in. They probably feed off of us somehow. The darker the deed the more they push. But this man. When did he come too? After the death of his son? After his meal? Maybe it wasn’t only until he pulled the trigger. Every night I put the barrel to my head. Feel the cold steel against my temple and a finger on the trigger. Anyone can see why this man would take his life after ripping everything away from himself. Why can’t I?