In his right hand he was holding the bag with several bottles of beer. After closing the door, taking of his shoes and coat, he walked to the kitchen. After putting the bag on the table, he noticed a big jar of salt, standing near the sink. John told himself of in the spirit for forgetting to hide it and quickly put it away. Salt and cold water were pretty good at washing away the stains of blood, every medical expert knew that, so should the police have seen this jar, they might have some suspicious. At least the clothes, John was previously washing, were already dry and in the bedroom.
The man took one bottle from the bag and went to the balcony. There he sat on the chair, opened the bottle and rose it in the hand, as if he was toasting someone.
– Happy birthday… John, – the man said to himself and drank a little.
It wasn’t his real name. Or maybe it was, the man wasn’t certain so far considered the name to be a determined factor of someone. However this day, April 1, was indeed his birthday. He chose to remember it because this date helped him realize something important about himself: that he doesn’t fall happiness, or sorrow, or love, or hate, or remorse, or any emotion whatsoever. Also he understood that if he doesn’t want to be snuffed out of existence as some beast he has to at least understand emotions in order to convince everyone that he truly falls them.
Slowly drinking beer, John looked on the building across the road, where his last victim used to live until recently. He also noticed a police car standing near the front entrance: the investigation proceeded. The ex-wife, the best friend, the colleagues, the neighbors and so on – the police had plenty of witnesses and suspects, so John was safe for now. But before he kills next time, he has to move somewhere else: what he learnt in the army, serving as a sniper, is that should never shoot from one spot more than once, unless you want to return home in the coffin. This was very useful advice and John was grateful for to the army and the war, even though they couldn’t satisfy his lust for killing. Trusting such an important task to a rifle – a toll that can jam or miss – was like swallowing a delicious food without actually tasting it. Because of it John liked killing from a close distance. For that any sharp object – a knife, a needle, scissors, a pen and so on – would do just fine, should you strike an artery with it. The result was as when a glass full of water falls from a table and crashes, while water spills all over. Only this time instead of water it was another liquid, which is bright-red and not easy to erase. Similar results could have been achieved by smashing victim’s head with an axe, spat, hammer or any other heavy instrument. If there were none available, John would strangle the victim with rope, wire, mobile charger, headphones or even his bare hands – years of practice made John quite capable of it physically. The unforgettable feeling of chocking body struggle so close to him was not that pleasant for John as the view of a person bleeding to death but it was still great experience. That’s what John was doing from a young age, starting with small animals like dogs and cats and then going to bigger ones, with much more blood in their bodies. Those were his classmates and at first John would fake accidents and their suicides but then (after graduating from school and returning from the army) decided that it would raise less suspicious if he would travel all over the country for committing his murders so that he could be lost in the vague statistics of homicides on the large area. It all began as an experiment what would happen if the animal’s flesh will be cut, but then John was pretending to have something, that he likes, so well, that he himself believed in it.
What was and what wasn’t Daniel? Definitely he wasn’t an individual being in the eyes of John, as he stopped seeing people like that long time ago. It was a regular unit no better or worse than any other by any standard. His photo just happened to be on the advertisement of their hospital, which John found in his postbox shortly after moving to this city, several kilometers away from his current home. It’s been a while since the previous death, so John would kill anyone and oncologist’s face simply caught his attention. From there on out the man couldn’t think about anything accept his future killing. But the time had to be taken for reconnaissance and getting close to the future victim – this part was much vital and no less precious then the actual killing. This time it took over a month to find this flat, move here and learn everything up-to-date about Daniel: about his colleagues, ex-wife, best friend, his neighbor whose wife died recently, and who will be first to blame in case of the oncologist’s death and so on.
And finally one day John woke up as always at six o’clock in the morning with clear realization: it’s time. It was forty days since neighbor’s wife died, and considering his mental state, it was clear that he would spend all day on the cemetery: yes, John was going to set him up, but he had no intention to make life easy for the police. Other two of four flats on that floor have been empty for quite some time so far: the family, living in one, just left on vacation and the guy from another was missing, living the only occupied apartment owned by the would-be victim. Usually John would kill on the dark streets or on the roads, but Daniel didn’t want to help him, so wouldn’t go to such places, narrowing circle of places where he could be killed to one.
Ringing in his doorbell, John said that he has an order in court for Daniel. As oncologist opened the door, killer struck him in the throat. As Daniel was choking, John grabbed his neck with both arms, blocking air from going to brain, until doctor passed out. John then dragged the oncologist further into his flat. He didn’t bring any weapons, considering, that he will find all he needs in a full-living apartment. He was right and soon was standing above unconscious Daniel, holding small scissors. In would be funny to watch him die from such weapon, considering that this man the same height and complexion as John. One last moment of waiting, just to make the next second even more sweet, and then strike. The blade reached the artery, unleashing the stream of hot, red blood, which spilled all over the place: on the body, floor, rug, John’s face and clothes. Probably Daniel came to in the last minute, as his body shook a little.
John stood over the body for some time, until the life finally left Daniel. Then he took a handkerchief and used it to clean his face from blood and scissors, as well as everything he touched, from his fingerprints. After making sure that he cleaned all of it, John wore his coat (which he took off before killing), hiding white shirt, covered in blood, and left the crime scene. He returned to his apartment and starting washing his clothes, feeling as great as always after killing someone. Feeling winner, feeling free.
The bottle was empty. Three more were waiting him in the bag on the kitchen. No one said that he has to drink them all at once, but reminiscing his last Act, turned John in the right mood. He left the balcony only to return shortly with another bottle of beer.
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