The Altruist’s Prey
I opened my eyes and there it was, staring at me from the ottoman at the end of the bed.
It was the tenth gift that I had received now in the past year. It had been left in of my flat without me knowing, but left so that I could obviously notice it the moment I either woke up or started performing one of my morning routines.
In the beginning I had thought of all sorts of reasons how the first gift could have appeared where I found it, so much so that it nearly drove me insane. I had looked over and over for any signs of forced entry, any floppy floorboards or hollow walls. I even put a trap with hundreds of thumb tacks in a bucket above the front door of the flat. It stayed there for three weeks until one day the Postman rang the doorbell in the early morning.
I had been on a late shift and ended up setting the trap on myself. The Postman just stood there and stared at me in only my Superman Boxers. I had a semi erection, a page of last night’s magazine torn and stuck to me with night sweat, covered in thumb tacks and smiling back at him. As I waited to be handed the parcel, I saw that it could have easily of fit through the letterbox in the first place. I snatched it and sarcastically thanked him, looking into his eyes with a “fuck off” stare.
As the situation went on, it ended up driving me to the point of paranoia. I was doing at least twelve ‘have I locked everything up?’ checks in an average week after the thumb tack incident.
However in the middle of my ‘checking the locks’ months I had received three things. I started to have little or no sleep on a night. I ended up finding a bed at work to lie on and pretending I was in there with a patient for ½ an hour intervals. I tried drinking copious amounts of whiskey, rum, sherry and brandy on a night to try to force myself to sleep but the paranoia and vomiting kept me awake. I attempted to steal some sedation medication from work but the nosey do-gooder of a pharmacist was always hovering around like the smell of deodorant your partner sprays near you and it goes into your mouth.
I couldn’t tell anyone about it. I mean what do you say to your family or mates? “Well I haven’t told you this before but some freak has been leaving me things in my flat whilst I am asleep or not there for the past year and I kept them in a shoe box in the bottom of my wardrobe. I started to put them all together after the second one arrived to see if they had any deep meaning or similarity to the previous ones. I’d then play the generation game with them freaky eh?”
The thing is, none of the things I had received could be used to harm anyone or have any monetary value, or don’t seem to have anyway. In fact anyone who would want to buy any of these bloody things would need their head seeing to, but they were mine and I both cherished and despised them. They are all nonsense items, nothing important to anyone but obviously I either had an admirer, a stalker or someone who is a bit simple wanting to leave me these gifts, because here was the tenth one.
They had not arrived on the same date of a month or a same day; they weren’t wrapped up in any paper or in a bag. I had said to myself after the second one, that if I received five then I must tell someone but when the fifth one arrived, I bottled it and did nothing. Then I said it if I received a sixth, but I didn’t. Then when it was seven, I nearly told my Mum but I knew that she would freak out and probably say “Tim, it is all in your mind again. What you need is a good woman to look after you”. This was the usual response whenever something went wrong in my life since splitting from my girlfriend. And plus, she had enough to deal with anyway. Then after the eighth turned up, I decided it was time.
I drove into town and walked into the Police Station. There I saw an attractive Policewoman behind the counter. She was with a family who were trying to persuade her that their poor innocent son who was locked up in the early hours of the morning didn’t usually steal cars with his girlfriend, take them to a secluded spot, have sex all over them, ejaculate & urinate on it, smash the windows and set it on fire whilst filming the entire event on his mobile and then posting it on YouTube.
The thought of having to wait in line to get to the front and explain this to the petite, buxom, pretty Policewoman made me uneasy. Whilst I stood there waiting, I decided that I didn’t want to tell her about my gifts in fear of embarrassment. Plus there is the fact that I had left it until the eighth item to step inside a cop shop. Eventually after twenty minutes, I decided that I had waited far too long for the family from the pit of Carkoon in front of me. The Mother was not giving up in her pursuit of trying to talk the Policewoman in to releasing Master Pleb. I about turned and walked back out of the station with my shoe box, returned to work with the gifts in the boot in the staff car park.
When number nine arrived, I thought that I may as well stop fighting the inevitable and just accept that if some loony likes to sneak into my house and leave me a shitty little gift then so be it. I was not worrying about it anymore and I had come to no harm. It is not as if the person sat next to me, watched me sleep and dangle things on my face. Or did they?
However, when the ninth gift appeared cleaner the very next day in the shoe box, in exactly the same place where it had been the previous day, it was then when I started to think about telling someone again.
David continued to chase her around her front room in the dark. She was screaming and begging for him to stop. She could see the knife in his hand, it was her knife that she kept in the block in the kitchen to cut steak and she had only sharpened it today.
He pounced onto her back as she ran behind the three seated couch and placed a cloth inside of her mouth to muffle her screams.
David had been taught that at 3am, people who heard a noise for a short while might wonder what it was. However if it finished before it wakes them up properly, they will more than likely lie back down and fall asleep thinking it was some stupid teenagers playing pranks on each other. Even if the noise were to wake them up, a miniscule percent of people would actually get out of bed, put some clothes on, walk out of their house and go next door knocking on the windows saying “do you mind, I am trying to sleep”. Even those people, after receiving no response would then leave with not a care to what was going on. Only a miniscule amount of people would ring the police or force themselves into the property, but David would be long gone by then.
After a few moments of struggle, David felt that he finally had control of her, and then he began running his hands all over her body. Her buttocks were curvaceous and soft through the nightdress that she was wearing. Her back had a tattoo of an eagle, just near her right shoulder. As he brushed his hand across it, he felt that she was lovely and fleshy. He could see her breasts pushed against the floor as he sat on her back with her hands, wrists and ankles tied with the flex wire that he had obtained from the back of the entertainment system. He thought about turning her onto her back like he had done previously so he could tear the nightdress to expose her breasts and fondle them before killing her. Instead he grabbed hold of her hair, yanked her head up from off the floor and pulled the knife out of the settee where he had secreted it to have a good feel of her.
It was at the point of the blade running across the woman’s throat and severing her epiglottis with the 9 inch blade that he saw a wicker fruit bowl and thought “Tim would really like that”
There I sat, on my ottoman looking at the wicker fruit bowl in my hands. I started thinking of the other nine gifts, trying somehow to piece them all together, trying to make sense out of all of them and of course playing The Generation Game with them in my head.
I then began to recall my memories to the time when I received the first gift to try to see if there could be any possible link to either of them or indeed why I was receiving them.
The noise of boring self-obsessed nobodies talking about the changes in the stock market woke me up at stupid o’clock. 5 o’clock to you.
I always set my alarm clock on my phone for Radio naff to wake me up. I leave it at the other end of the room so I have to physically get out of bed to turn it off, otherwise my morning horn withers away and there is no chance of a quick one when people are groaning on about trading and the latest Candlestick charts.
I have to go to work……again. I start work at 6.30am and it is a 10 minute drive away at this time in a morning. However it takes me enough time to wake up so I need to get up early otherwise I just simply would not get there.
Why do I offer to work overtime when I hate the bloody place anyway? I no longer have a partner and I have no dependants either. My flat wage covers the rent, bills, food and stuff with a bit left over for treats. Maybe I go to work because it simply gets me off my backside once in a while. I used to love my job but you know when you get to that point when your boss doesn’t listen to you, your colleagues don’t appreciate you and no-one cares about the ‘customers’ but you? Well that is where I am at this very point in time. I have tried looking for alternative work but every time I explore the internet, something else drags me into its pit of self-indulgent filth. After that I am too tired to look for anything else so I play games instead or just go to sleep.
I got out of bed and put on the clothes I had already got out the previous evening for work. I sprayed some deodorant on myself to de-stench my armpits, back, under my moobs, bottom and bits. As I walked through to the lounge and into the kitchen to put the kettle on; I saw something out of the corner of my eye. It was near the sink next to last night’s washing up that had been put off being done until there was a sufficient amount to warrant filling up the sink. It was an ornamental Polar Bear about 7 inches high. It was stood up on its hind legs on a piece of ornamental ice. I quickly turned around to see if anyone was stood behind me as I sensed now that there was. I stood looking for someone that had been hiding, and that had now jumped out to surprise me with this gift and their presence. I looked and searched in the vicinity and then everywhere in the flat but could not see anybody. I even looked in the spare room which I haven’t visited since SHE left me for that sycophantic grease ball.
No-one was here, only me. I checked the doors and even the windows, even though I am 6 floors up, I still checked. It could’ve been the window cleaners……well it could have been. I glanced over and looked at them, no the windows were as filthy as ever and after closer inspection, I could not see any fingerprints or smudge marks on them.
After I was sure that I had checked everywhere I felt a weird sensation come over me. I turned to head back to the bedroom it struck me. A wave of vomit hurled from my mouth like an acidic waterfall of semi-digested food and tea. I felt it splatter onto my feet as I fell onto all fours on my kitchen floor. I continued to vomit until it felt like all of the food in the world had been connected to a blender and then into a tube entering my stomach and finally exiting out of my mouth. When my breathing finally returned to normal and I had composed myself (well as much as you can when you’ve just vomited an entire days’ worth of chicken and sweetcorn) I tried to stand up but due to the viscosity of the vomit I kept slipping on the kitchen floor catching a glance of the gift with every attempt. I slid myself on the sickened floor toward the drawers on the kitchen cupboards and pulled myself up using the handles as a rope ladder. As I reviewed what had just happened I looked over at the gift that I had been left.
Why the hell would someone leave me a figurine of a Polar Bear? In fact why would someone leave me a figurine of a Polar Bear in my kitchen next to my washing up whilst I slept was more to the point? Right, firstly I had to clean this mess up and myself too. I will not tell you what it was like cleaning vomit up from my kitchen floor and off myself but it was very, very repugnant.
When I had finally composed myself enough that I felt I could speak again, I decided to ring work and tell them that I was calling in sick due to vomiting and that I still felt nauseous. Telling them that I was calling in sick because a small statue of a Polar Bear was in my kitchen would get me laughed at more than I do now. When the staff nurse heard my reason, she laughed at me anyway and told me to get my arse into work because fewer patients would not arrive at the hospital just because I have rang in sick. Plus we were already short staffed and that it didn’t really matter that much as I was only on the geriatric ward today, so I would be fine to come in. I could have had a highly contagious disease but that didn’t matter because I was only caring for the elderly today. This was typical of the mentality of the colleagues that I worked with. They went into work with all sorts of things wrong with them and passed it onto the patients, so if I had been a little bit sick, I had no chance really.
She then proceeded to inform me that if I decided not to turn up I would not be paid. Typical, I would have to go in but I would inform my union about this, not that they do anything anymore anyway. All they are bothered about is being paid just like the rest of us.
What could I do? I couldn’t leave the flat, the person might come back. In fact, I thought, the person might still be here. No they can’t be, I told myself, I have checked everywhere.
As I walked to get my mobile phone, a floorboard creaked under my foot. “The person is under my floor” I thought irrationally. I checked all the carpet against the sides of the walls and where the grippers meet and they were mostly secure. There was only one place where it was loose and that was in my bedroom under my wardrobe.
Hang on, I thought, the person cannot have snuck into my flat and shown no trace of forced entry, left me an ornamental Polar Bear in my kitchen, moved my wardrobe, pulled up the carpet and then the floorboards and waited until I got up in the morning, waited for me to find the gift, listened to me shit myself and vomit all over and leave for work before coming out from under the floor; laughing their arse off at my reaction and then leave the flat the same way that they came in. Or could they?
Twenty seconds later I found myself moving stuff out of my wardrobe “if someone hiding under my floor I’m going to fucking kill you, you bastard. So tell me now if you are there and I’ll only break your leg or an arm.” I started saying to the person who may be under my floor, my voice croaking and breaking due to my being scared to death and panicking.
“Can you hear me you wanker?” I continued as I flung everything out of my wardrobe onto my bed so it would be easier to move.
As I started to pull the loose carpet back, I was still on my tirade of terror to this polar bear leaving floorboard dweller, but there began to be little squeaks in my breathes as I got increasingly scared what I might find. When all the carpet and underlay was pulled back, I found nothing, no loose floorboards at all. Not one piece was even a little bit loose.
I looked at my watch and I only had twenty minutes to get to work. “Sod my breakfast now you stupid git” I said out loud “you have wasted your time looking for somebody that might not even exist under your floor for leaving a bloody pot polar bear in your kitchen”. I would have to use my charm on Holly to get me bacon butty when I got to work.
“Wait Tim” I told myself. What am I going to do with it’?
I walked towards it slowly and looked to make sure there were no wires attached to it, or as I lifted it if that there was no pressure sensor underneath it that would set something off. And to my amazement there was nothing on it, around it and even under it.
I saw the box that used to have my new boots in it and placed it in the shoebox, put it at the bottom of my now empty wardrobe and shut the doors.
As I walked out of my front door I quickly shot my head out of the door like you see Detectives or Special Agents do when they are chasing someone around a warehouse or indeed a block of flats. I couldn’t see anyone hiding in a doorway or lurking around a corner, so as I walked gingerly down the corridor. As my finger came into my peripheral vision to press the lift button I looked around to see if anyone was looking at me. I got into the lift and as the doors closed no-one ran in at the last minute or got on any of the floors at the lift descended. The doors opened at the bottom and I popped my head around quick again, no-one was there. I got out of the lift and swiped my fob card across the sensor to get out of the flats. As I approached my car I started crouching down to look underneath it in case someone or something was there. Then I looked in the back seats and then the front seats. Nothing.
I got into the car and turned the ignition key, everything was fine. All of this panic over a damn ornamental polar bear. My god what if it had been a gun? I would have probably of internally combusted.
I got to work and parked across the road at a residential home as their car park was more secure than the hospital’s and it was free. I walked into work and the staff nurse asked me if I felt okay now with what I thought was a hint of insincerity. I replied that I felt like shit that had been in a tumble dryer then scraped out with a cheap plastic spatula.
She replied with “That’s cos you’re a bloke you daft git. Haven’t you learnt that yet? You’ve got Ward 26 today, geriatrics” and started to laugh.
These were considered the worst wards to work on as most of the patients on the ward either had dementia or were just old and infirm. The thing is the only training I had received in dementia was a ½ day refresher course after we had graduated and that was mostly spent talking about how difficult these patients can be and not actually about how to care for them or how to understand how they are feeling. I actually do not mind the geriatric wards as most of them are either too ill to press the buzzer or they have forgotten what it is for, plus some of them are actually pleased that you are there looking after them when you can spend a minute with them.
As I walked onto the ward the buzzer was going in seven of the thirty two cubicles. I walked into the handover room and five nurses were sat there talking about a bikini wax one of them had had yesterday and it was a good job because she’d pulled last night.
“Have you all gone fucking deaf” I said.
“Ooooooo” replied Nancy. She was the most two faced back stabbing bastard of the clique sat in front of me. “Who didn’t you shag last night or in the last ten months?”
“Are you all going to talk about minge trimming all morning or are we actually here to look after people?” I announced.
“Nurse Hitler is on her break on the opposite ward so we are having a break too” she answered and glanced at her watch. “Actually she is due back in a minute so we had better go. Don’t just stand there Timothy with your dick in your hand thinking about our waxed bits get some work done. I am your superior you know.” Nancy replied.
“Fuck you” I said quietly but Nelson heard me. He sniggered and waited till the clique had disappeared.
“I don’t know how you dare speak to her like that” he said.
“She is a gobshite with half the intelligence. What was she going to do? Report me for telling her to answer the seven buzzers that she was ignoring?” I said.
“True, true fella” he replied.
I went to answer one of the buzzers and my shift had officially started.
Well this was it; David had been coming here every night for the past thirty two nights to watch her and her routine.
What had brought him to this point where he had wanted to start taking someone’s life again? He started to think back to his childhood and of all the times he was bullied at school by the normal people’. Vacuous, self-obsessed sycophants that used people like him with his intellect to make themselves look bigger and better but they weren’t.
It had all come to a head at the end of school dance when Clare; a girl whom he had lusted over since he was eleven, had asked him if he had wanted to dance with her. Neil her current boyfriend had blown her off for Alice; a stupid big boobed blonde bimbo who’d give you a flash of her rack if you gave her a croggy on your bike anywhere that she wanted. He remembered her getting off the crossbar of his bike last summer before the last year of school and she had flashed them at him. They were very nice but her face was full of plaster and filler and her false smile belied her lack of personality. She would have to be dead before he did anything with her or at least have a bag and a gimp ball on standby.
He had automatically agreed to dance with Clare but knew he would have to keep his distance a little for two reasons. The first was the Neil, he had been bullied by him throughout his senior school life and second was that he knew that he would eventually get an erection and make a fool out of himself. As they were dancing she looked into David’s eyes and began telling him that she had secretly fancied him all this time but he was too much of a swat for her to date him. He felt that this was a bit of a back handed compliment, but a compliment all the same. She said that she had wanted to be with someone who was athletic, fit and who she could manipulate and he was not that person. She then told him that he was too intellectual for her and he would be more of a challenge when debating subjects that she ultimately wanted to win.
Within a minute of them dancing she grabbed hold of his right hand and slipped it up her blouse toward her breast. He grabbed hold of her wrist to stop her, but she whispered for him to trust her and eventually he relaxed his arm and allowed his hand to cup her. She then whispered for him to squeeze it which he did. David looked around to see if any of the teachers, other pupils or more importantly Neil was watching. Everyone appeared to be oblivious to them so he went with it. She then began to move her right hand toward his crotch and felt for his penis. The look on her face showed that she could not believe what she was feeling. She moved back slightly then returned quickly as too long apart would make it obvious what they were doing.
“Is that really your, your, or have you put your socks in there?” Clare said.
He sighed and said “Yes it’s really me, it is like that because I am squeezing your breast and you are whispering in my ear” he replied.
“I know” she said “but Neil’s isn’t anywhere nearly that big even when he is doing what we are”.
“Yes!” David thought. All those years of abuse and finally his body was superfluous to Neil’s in some way. He knew that he was only just above average in that department, so knowing that made it even more satisfying that Neil was hung like a gnat.
It was whilst Clare was caressing him that Neil walked in and saw what they were doing.
Neil obviously could not believe what he was seeing. David, who he had bullied for all of these years and Clare, the person who he was currently shagging were both stood dancing. Not only that, but David his hand on her breast under her top and having his bits rubbed through his trousers by her. It was too much for Neil to handle and he started going ballistic. Neil walked briskly over to them, looked them both up and down as they quickly snapped apart from each other, and then did what no-one expected him to do; he started to slap Clare across the head. David wanted to interject but he couldn’t. He just stood there frozen and watched whilst Neil repeatedly hit Clare until two male Physical Education teachers intervened and removed Neil outside, and then called his parents. All those years of abuse and being bullied had made him so scared stiff to try and muscle in to stop Neil hitting Clare. All of the times that he had his ball stolen from him when he was playing kick-about with friends and the embarrassment of not standing up to him to get it back, all the times he had received dead legs, dead arms, Chinese burns and nipple twists. All the humiliating nicknames he used to spread around school about him and tell girls that he liked them when he never and then his life would be hell for months. It had all culminated to this point where he saw Neil beating the girl he had loved for so long and he could not lift a finger to help her. Plus, he was still full to semi erect and that is not the best time to start fighting with someone.
David stayed inside the dance hall and comforted Clare until her parents arrived. She was sobbing on his shoulder calling Neil from a pig to a dog and everything else in between. She was saying, what was she supposed to have done, when he had cleared off with Alice for a quick one round the back of the gym. Clare turned to him and told him that she wanted to try and have a relationship with him, that she would never ever go back to Neil and that she had realised she wanted him instead. She asked him if he would go home with her and then her father would then take him home. He couldn’t believe that she had mentioned this after just being beaten up by Neil and knowing that he had not tried to intervene. He obliged and sat in the back seat, she nestled herself close to him snuggling in his arms all the way home. When she got home she thanked him for comforting her and she would meet him at the shop around the corner from school the next morning. She got out to meet her mother at the front door step and went inside the house. She turned and waved before disappearing inside.
Her father drove off to take him home and had asked him everything that had happened at the dance. Apart from a couple of obvious omissions he told him everything. Her father said he would be talking to Neil’s father tomorrow. He said that he worked with him and he would get everything sorted. He thanked her father for the ride home and walked inside his dark, quiet house and went straight to bed. Neither of David’s parents were home from work. His father worked away on the oil rigs for months at a time and his mother was a nurse with the district nursing out of hour’s service. David also had an older brother but he had moved out years ago and was married. He really needed to empty his heart to somebody but no-one expected this evening to end how it did so he had to think to himself about it instead.
He undressed and looked in his bedroom mirror and looked down at himself. He was pleased with it tonight, it performed well. He lay on his bed and masturbated thinking of what he and Clare had done tonight and what they could be doing in the future.
David had worked out how he was going to enter the property and how he was going to kill her. He had worked it out precisely from all of those hours of waiting and watching her.
He knew that he could not be seen by anyone. He had been hidden in between tall overgrown bushes at the side of the house since 1.30am. The two neighbours had not bothered to put a fence up between them as the bush was that prominent. However he could see her lounge, stairs and bedroom from where he had strategically positioned himself.
If you’re going to start this, it is best to make sure your first is an easy target and Bethany sure was. She lived on her own away from her birth place; she had no stable partner and went out partying most nights and usually got back in between 2.15 and 2.25am.
David had met her at a party as an acquaintance of someone he had known through university, she had wanted to dance with him but he didn’t dance with anyone ever, but she would not leave him alone. It wasn’t David’s fault that he was so irresistible and she eventually left him alone when her ‘boyfriend for the night’ had turned up. He had remembered thinking that she must be an easy lay which was confirmed by viewing her every night as seventeen of the thirty two nights she had returned with someone and they had gone by 3am. Classy.
He had been ready to go ahead with it last night but she had returned with a man and a big man too. Tonight she returned alone.
David waited for the downstairs lights to go out and then he made his move. The bathroom and bedroom were on the other side of the house and she always put her mp3 player on and tucked it in her bra whilst she had got changed. He had viewed this so many times from different angles were he had stood secluded to observe her routine.
He sneaked out of the bushes in case next door was likely to awake. Just because they had not been the previous nights he was still being cautious. He pushed up the lever in the lounge window, which was always left ajar, with a flat head screwdriver. David had overheard her telling the ‘partner’ that she had previously brought back that it was broken and they were to leave it alone as they went to close it. He slowly crept inside the window, constantly listening for any movement upstairs. All he could hear was her singing a shitty little teeny bopper song that was pathetic when it was first released and the remix that she was singing was just as inane.
He looked around for the guitar he had seen earlier. It wasn’t where she had put it down. “Shit” he thought, “where the hell is it?”
He looked around the all but dark room, the only light provided was by the bathroom light upstairs. He didn’t have long; she’d be turning the light off soon as she was usually done in four minutes. He then spotted it; it was in the hall between the front and the lounge door. He slowly tried the door and it was locked. “Shit again” he muttered internally. He had brought his wire cutters to cut the string and strangle her with it. Maybe he could use those to kill her instead, he thought. He could find something to tie her up with and keep her quiet and then he could cut bits off of her. Tim might like one of those, he thought, and no there wasn’t enough time. Was there anything else around he could do it with? As he turned around he saw a packet on the telephone table. A grin appeared on his face. “My God people are stupid” he thought. He picked up the newly bought packet of guitar strings and opened it. He then took one out and put the rest in his pocket for just in case.
He wrapped the wire in between has hands, which were covered by thick welding gloves he had found in a skip a few weeks ago. He then slowly made his way upstairs walking on the far edges of the steps as they make the least noise as possible. If they do happen to creak and if she was in between songs she would hear him coming. He could hear her still singing and brushing her teeth in the bathroom to the left of the top of the stairs. She would be coming out soon and then turning away from him to walk toward her bedroom. He stood on the last but one step waiting for the brushing to stop. It did and he made his move.
The bathroom light switched off and out she walked toward her bedroom. She was naked apart from her bra and high heel shoes as he crept until he was stood right behind her. He found himself slightly too close as his toes clipped her heel as she tripped and stumbled onto the floor. Her earphones fell out of her ears and as she turned, she fell and ended up looking right at him. Without thinking and before she could scream properly, he dove on top of her and wrapped her neck in the guitar wire and began to pull it tight. She opened her mouth but nothing came out. She tried again and all he heard was a whimper and the remaining breath she had in her lungs escaped.
He pulled and pulled on the string, her arms writhing around trying to push him off but he was too big and too strong that her arms felt like twigs pushing past him in the bushes outside of her house. Her neck and the carpet underneath were a mass of blood. He checked her chest for it rising and falling for about ten minutes until he was completely satisfied that she was dead. He then looked at her face and he need not have bothered to keep looking at her chest; nice as it was, as her lips were dark and her eyes were glazed over.
As he stood up he felt dizzy and sick. He stumbled back onto the wall opposite the bathroom. All of a sudden the dizziness and nausea were placed by adrenaline and ecstasy. He had done it; he had really done it again. He stood there and revisited what had just happened in his head. He figured that he would have longer than he thought to get out as she had made hardly to any noise at all. He had planned for a quick getaway but that was no longer needed. He looked at her and the feeling of being a higher being surrounded him. He was now deciding who should stay and who should go from life. He felt so overwhelmed with happiness and achievement; he took out his mobile phone and turned it on. The display lit up the corridor and he could see in back light what she looked like even more so. He started feeling the same way he did when he had killed when he was younger but he was not going to do that here. This was his first of many to impress him, it would take time but it would be worth it in the end.
He wasted no time to cover his tracks. He went into her bedroom and searched her clothes for her keys to unlock the hall door. He walked away and down the stairs being careful not to touch the walls. He opened the door and grabbed the guitar then carefully took it back upstairs with him. He then placed the guitar to the side of her body and attached her hands onto either end of the guitar wire he had used to kill her with wrapping it around her fingers on each hand and then pulling at the wire again so it had made indentations on her hands. He then replaced her keys back into her clothes and carefully walked back down the stairs again.
As he was heading back for the window he glanced over at the telephone table where he had found the new guitar wire and saw a small ornamental polar bear next to the phone. “Tim will like that” he thought.
It had been just over two weeks since the Polar Bear had turned up next to the washing up. I had been waking up earlier and earlier every morning scouring the flat for any more gifts that may have been left. I was checking places over again just in case I had missed something the first twelve times. I even started to write down an inventory of everything I had in each room. However after all the crap I had found in my bedroom had used four pieces of A4 paper on both sides, I decided against it. I didn’t find anything new in that room so it’s a good chance the other five rooms would be fine. That’s me, dedicated.
I have also been systematically tapping every inch of all the walls in the flat trying to find some hollow points or fine lines in the shape of a door that someone could use as an entrance or exit to the flat. I double and triple checked the carpets for fine tears and creaking floorboards too for any sign of any possibility that the bastard is getting in that way. Eventually I even ventured into the spare room which smelt of that bitch and him still. I tapped all the walls like I was a professional, listening for hollow thuds and smoothing my hands over the wallpaper looking of deeper lines that could be a hatchway. I checked every inch of every wall. As I moved the bed in the spare room away from the wall I found a bag full of her belongings. I decided that I was going to be nosey, so I emptied all of the contents onto the mattress and started raking through it. I found ticket stubs from places where we had been and where they had been too. I also found belts, my god the amount of belts. Who needs that many belts? There were about thirty five of the bloody things. There were sparkly, leather, sequins, hessian, Velcro, you name the material and here it was in belt form. I rummaged around the remains; there were a few pairs of earrings and a few receipts. In my jealous inquisitive manner I started to look at the receipts. Both she and I both believed in keeping our receipts and then when having the time to do so, shredding them so no-one could use your details and rip us off.
There were some receipts for food establishments that she had been to on her lunch break; she didn’t get fatter for no reason but in hindsight I don’t think I should have kept telling her, a receipt from Boots for a jumbo pack of condoms (not for us, for them), a receipt for an appliance from a certain well named ladies boutique and a receipt from a key cutter for £95 with the date of two weeks before we split. I bet they were getting keys cut to their new house together. Well his house, which he owned with his big job as chief executive of a local business. Still £95 was pretty steep for a new set of keys. I mean how many keys do you need for a house to spend that much on them?
I picked up all the items from the bag and started to put them back in when I saw something I hadn’t noticed before. It was a key ring with a picture of us both on it. For a moment I began to remember the good times we had shared but as soon as I did, I remembered them in the bed I was sat on. I opened the window and threw it out in jealous fury. For a brief moment, I regretted what I had done. I imagined some poor old lady walking her border collie on her twice daily routine, just to get away from her moaning git of a husband. She would be picking up its excrement with a glove on her hand and then inside a baby’s nappy bag. All the time her dog would be smiling to its mates with a look of ‘and she thinks she is in control. I am the daddy’, when suddenly a key ring with two Cheshire cat smiling tossers pretending that either of them really wanted to partake in this photograph just so they could walk around with each other snuggling in their pocket with their keys attached; thwacking her on the back of her head, thus knocking her over and landing in the poo.
What had I done that had been so bad for her to leave me after all those years? Well apart from tell her the truth.
If women don’t want to know the truth then they shouldn’t ask what men think of something. For example, clothes. If we really truly love you and you choose an item of clothing that is hideous, wouldn’t you really want us to tell you instead of walking around on a night out looking like a rocket ice lolly?
It happens with friends too. Most men have what’s called ‘git radar’ for male friends and ‘slapper radar’ for female friends. It is a powerful honing device and should be followed at every instance. It is just a pity that she knew a lot of gits and slappers.
I have always thought of myself as a very truthful person. I always tell people what I think when asked and sometimes when I am not asked either. I feel that surely it is better that I am like this instead of bottling everything up and then suddenly erupting after a scatter cushion has been on the floor at 5.23pm. Or stabbing people in the back instead of letting them know if they have upset offended or just got on my nerves right there and then, to get it out of the way. At least everyone knows where they stand with me and I want people to be the same to me. Some people say that they will tell you what they think but it is always watered down from what they really think a bit like a korma does with cream. Well I am a vindaloo.
It was getting time to start to get ready for work. I felt that ever since she had left, I had constantly been working and slobbing and generally wasting my life as due to the hours that I work. Most of my days off had either been spent in bed or just lounging around watching TV that I had missed and recorded whilst I was at work. I decided to snap myself out of the brooding in the past stage and finally get ready for work, and by getting ready for work I actually meant getting sprayed with deodorant and getting dressed. I managed sometimes to make it last for at least forty five minutes.
For those of you that do shift work you will know what a pain in the arse the time after lunch is when you are on an evening shift, until it’s actually time to get off your arse and walk out to work. I have turned up for work early before just because I could not be bothered to sit around at home any longer. I would take a book and make myself a cup of tea, then look up and think that I could have been doing this at home to extend my time there before coming to work. It wasn’t the same though, you would possibly see a couple of skivers going to the toilet for the twentieth time since lunch just so that they either got out of doing work or they could text their friends in the toilet out of the watchful eye of matron. Then when they came out they would start gossiping…I mean talking to you about work and stuff. It’s a lot better than being sat at home waiting for the hands to turn around on the clock before you eventually drag yourself up to stoop out of the door, walking all low postured imagining the horrors that await you when you get there.
I performed my usual leaving my flat routine. I had the ingenious idea of placing a bookmark in my door so that when I returned home and if it was already on the floor I would know that either someone had been in or someone was still inside of the flat. The routine also involved looking behind both shoulders whilst walking to the lift and also to my car whilst simultaneously scouting the environment in front of me in case someone was going to jump out and hand me a matching ornament.
When I got to work I spent twenty five minutes reading my book and whilst having a cuppa I found out from someone going to the toilet that I was on the geriatric ward again with a nice bunch of staff. This was weird, they never ever had their best staff (ahem…yes I am) on these wards. Something was wrong and I was determined that I was going to find out what it was. I left the staff room and asked all the staff as nicely as I could why they were on this ward today. They all said the same thing that Matron Adundanbar had rang them last night or this morning and told them that they were no longer needed on their usual wards and they must report to her at the entrance of the geriatric wards before their shift. She had not turned up so they just went straight onto the ward and got on with their jobs. Good staff you see, there are some of us about.
Today there was no Nancy around pretending that she was working when in fact she was trying to stay nice for any good looking male visitors that came on the ward. There were seven of the best workers in the hospital that I had worked with before and one who I did not recognise. Amongst them was Nelson whom had been there that day Nancy and I had had a téte â téte. Nelson was a black 27 year old gay man, not that it matters but just in case you were remotely interested. Not in him, I mean you may be. I’ll stop digging myself a hole shall I? This is what I sometimes got like when I started talking to him. I always start digging myself deeper into the ground when talking to either gay men or black men. Do I mention the black thing and can I joke with him without being racist? Do I mention the gay thing without being homophobic and could I joke with him about it? It was a good job he wasn’t an old, disabled woman too otherwise I would spontaneously combust. I had deduced that it was due to me wanting to be his friend but I didn’t want him to think it was anything else but a drink with a mate and hanging out together. I mean, would he want to hang around with a straight white bloke? Surely he would have lots of gay mates and lots of black mates and usually white straight mates aren’t accepted or take a long time to be accepted into either group as an outsider as it is vice versa. He was athletically built and about six foot tall. He was currently without a partner after his last boyfriend had left him for a ‘celebrity’. Nelson loved winding the female nurses up, pretending that he was interested in them, flirting with them and basically getting what he wanted. Obviously they didn’t know that he was gay, but I did.
The geriatric ward was running like clockwork without the need of any supervision, all the staff were mucking in with the jobs and sharing them out. No-one waited more than thirty seconds after they had buzzed for assistance. The patients with dementia were getting quality time and everything was great until at 5.45pm every one of us finally found out why we had been put on this ward. The double doors to the ward opened and in walked the Health Minister.
I had just been to see Mr Class in a cubicle and was walking away from them; I happened to turn around and saw them all walk through the door like royalty.
“OH I SEE WHAT HAPPENED HERE!” I exclaimed loudly. “THIS IS WHY hmmmmmffffffff”.
I was grabbed from behind by an extremely strong pair of arms and pulled into the cubicle behind me and the door slammed shut and a hand was placed over my mouth.
All I heard was “Shhhhhhhhhh”.