• PART 8

    His sleek black hair flopped over his pale forehead and slightly over his eyes. His face wore a thin sheen of sweat, highlighted by the street lamp he stood under. Rain poured down from the charcoal black sky as he stared at the little droplets of water falling from the strands of hair in front of his eyes. He looked about 18 with his height and broad shoulders. How long had he been standing here? He couldn’t tell. He pushed his wet hair back and focused on the house in front of him. Had they noticed him yet? Finally, the last light on in the house went out. Josh’s breath caught. It was time. He dipped his hand into his left coat pocket and his fingers came into contact with the cold metal blade. This should be easy, right? You just push the blade in…and… Josh shook his head. Don’t think about it, he told himself, just do it, there’s no way your backing out now, not after what he’s done. He suddenly winced slightly as a twinge of pain ran through his body and that reminded him. A long scar on his back ran its way from the bottom of his right shoulder to his left hip, a little ‘keepsake’ his enemy had given him. But you can back out… whispered a voice in the back of his head, it’s easy; all you have to do is turn and walk away. No! What this guy had done was unforgivable, there was no way he was letting him go, alive. Josh gritted his teeth and grasped the blade. Don’t do this! The voice suddenly screamed, imploring him, you know what the consequences will be! But this time, josh didn’t listen, he didn’t think. He smoothed his face into a blank expression and walked forward and up the steps towards the nearest window.
    It was dark inside the house, too dark. Josh knew exactly where he would be. He crept up the stairs and slow made his way into the mans room. There he was, sleeping soundless, his wife lying next to him. Josh stepped over to the bed and raised the knife a little, the blade glinting in the moonlight filtering through the curtains. He hesitated for a split second. Don’t think, he reminded himself, just do it. He raised the knife a little higher then plummeted it down.
    Josh woke up with a cry, his breathing rapid. sweat adorned his forehead. No, the nightmares hadn’t gone away, the memories were still there and they would plague him forever. He sighed, trying to control his breathing as he settled himself and stared at the ceiling. But the memories were there; they were always there, flickering in his mind. Just when he was at piece, another one would flash up. Why? That was all he could think, why? It wasn’t that dark in here, but the clock on the wall shower 3:16 in the morning. For a moment, josh thought he was still in his cold hard cell, but when he glanced around he realized he was still here. Still in this lab…where was he? He had given up all hope of ever escaping and just settles back into whatever they did to him, admitting defeat.

    Tom sighed at he looked at the monitor from his study. Josh had been dreaming again. He was plagued with memories. For a moment, tom felt sorry for him, and whished there was something he could do to help stop the memories but he gave a start when someone coughed in front of him. His eyes darted form the screen and met with the ones of dale. Dale raised an eyebrow “I did knock.” He muttered, glancing at the monitor.
    “Of-of course” tom muttered, quickly pushing his glasses back up his nose. Dale frowned as he looked at the black and white screen, trying to make out who it was. When he had realized, he sighed and sat down in a chair opposite tom.
    “You’re getting to attached.” He muttered wearing a serious expression. Tom sighed,
    “How can you not? Their only children.”
    “Well your going to have to stop it at some point, if you don’t, it’ll destroy you. I’ve seen people in this job that cant even bare to live with themselves anymore…so many people have lost their lives…” tom nodded slowly. There was silence for a moment, but tom broke it.
    “So, why did you come in here anyway?” dale frowned.
    “What? Oh, right, I was wondering if you had any more files on ginger?” tom raised an eyebrow
    “Ginger? …The 8 year old?” dale nodded. “Uh…” tom got up, taking a bunch of keys from his desk and walked over to a filing cabinet. He flicked through the keys, found the right on and shoved it in the lock, clicking one of the draws open. It slid open and tom filed through it and finally pulled out a file. “Yep.” He said, walking back over and passing it to dale. Dale smiled and stood up, taking it.
    “Thank you.” he said, and walked back out the room. Tom sighed and slumped back into his chair, his eyes gliding back to the monitor.
    “Poor boy…” he muttered.