DIARY PAGES TORN OFF (III)

Some place far away, a man was seen coming out of an alley, clothes soaked in blood of whatever, a big black nylon hanging on one hand, also dripping of blood, leaving a trail behind as he walked towards the road, and an imprint of a gun holster was visible on his waist.  He had a lit cherry-flavoured cigar in his mouth, smoking while humming a song.

As he stepped onto the road, he heard the sound of siren went off at some distance away.

"Ah," He muttered, "They have gotten my message". He chuckled.

Few seconds later, three cop cars came into view with a SWAT van trailing behind them. Pulling up around the man, many uniformed cops and SWAT team scrambled out with guns and took position.

Calm as a sedated animal, the man dropped his cigar on the ground and stepped on it.

"Gentlemen," he started, gesturing with  open arms. "You're welcome. I see you got my invite. But where is the Captain?" He appeared to be scanning the faces of the men in black in front of him.

A moment later, a man in his early thirties, built and tall, in a coloured shirt and black pants, came into view. He appeared exhausted but was visibly angry.

"It's over, John. You're surrounded. Get on your —"

"Oh no, it isn't over yet. You and I know that much. Besides I invited you here, man," his tone apparently rising, "Could you act like a guest for one damn minute, dude?"

"I'm sorry." The Captain said, with an air of indifference, "But I am not at liberty to enjoy the pleasure of your "delightful" company, as you can see," he gestured to the cops behind him, "we have a criminal to catch."

"Oh, Andy," in a singsong manner, "you'll never change. But listen, will you? We don't have much time left, obviously." Enunciating the last word with vehemence.
"Your fiancee, she was so beautiful. Even to the point when I ran the knife across her throat, she still was." Accentuating every word distinctively. "Poor little thing, she was screaming your name all through. She loved you very much, I could tell."

Andy looked disgusted. His legs had suddenly gone numb under him. Sweat pouring all over. Seeming oblivious of this, John continued, "Look, I'm sorry about that, but she just had to go. She knew too —"

"HELL YEAH, YOU PIECE OF SHIT. SWEET JESUS! You fucking raped, tortured and strangled her, you psycho. If not for the law I'd have bashed your skull in right there, you psychotic killing son of a bitch. How could you—how could you?"

Shaking his head, he said, "So annoying and daft, same as your mother. I wonder why you never took after me." He lighted another cigar and took a long drag.

As the smoke escaped through his mouth, he continued, "Just so you know. Your mother didn't fall off the balcony that night, at least not by herself. That'll be too ridiculous for an everly-careful overly-superstituous woman like your Mum who wouldn't even go to the bathroom at night because 'invisible djinn might be taking a shower'." He smirked. "Yes, I threw her off. And there is no why." He looked up in the sky. "I just wanted to. So I did."

Shaken by what he just heard, Andy couldn't control the flow of tears streaming down his cheeks.

"I'm gonna kill you. I will kill you son of a bitch. I'M GONNA KILL —"

"Yes, you will. In fact, the time is very near. But before we do that, lest I forget, in this nylon bag," holding the blood-soaked black nylon up and tossing it forward, "is a fresh dinner. I've had a good time tonight.  This is brought for you, guests. And if this won't do, I am sure behind me, in that alley," gesturing to the alley he came out from, "there is enough to go round in the Dumpster." He smiled.

Uneasiness emanated from the cops around  as freshly dismembered human parts — hands and feet — burst out of the nylon.

  Andy was so irritated and embarrassed. This was his father, his loving and lovely father he had known — or not — for years. At least he was great a Dad to him before and while he was admitted into Police Academy few years ago. How could his father had turned into a psychotic killer in his absence or within a very short time? He knew damn well he had tortured, raped and killed so many before. And  he has to put an end to this. It has to end now. For the sake of humanity. And more importantly, for his fiancee, his mother and for himself.

"Turn yourself in, man. You don't have a choice." Andy's voice quavered.

"Oh, I do." He smiled, "I always do. You see, three years ago, I was diagnosed of cancer. Of the brain. I was given only three years to live. And in few days, I'm sure I will be dead.  You see, eh? I don't want to die like that. Slow and agonising, like my victims. Like your fiancee, oh Poor girl."

"After the first and second kill, I just couldn't stop. It became —" his face lit up, "— very exciting, you see! Well, there you have it now, a good excuse for doing what I did." His voice suddenly dropped.

Taking the last drag of his cigar, and puffing the smoke out, he threw the remaining stick away and said, "You know how this is going to happen, right? Yes, I will put my hand on my gun holster and you will fucking shoot me, alright?
Don't miss a shot, okay. Aim for the head and be thorough, alright!

Adieu, son"

Andy sobbed quietly as he took out his own gun and pointed it at his father. Slowly, John moved his hands towards his gun and the bullets came flying till his lifeless body hit the ground.

Shaking his head in great sorrow, Andy walked away.

His mind was in total disarray. He was at a loss. His world had turned upside down. Thoughts collided with another as pain surged through, searing his brain, each seemed like some never-ending torture.

How he would stand the shame, he knew not. How he would coordinate operations with his team of cops  after all they had witnessed with him, he couldn't comprehend. The grotesque images of the dismembered body would haunt his memory for life, he knew that.

Unsatisfied within himself, he wanted to do more. And even though he was willing to, he didn't know how.

But later, he would wake up the next morning, after getting no sleep because he would be doing a lot of packing and writing of letters, of which amongst them is his resignation letter he'd be submitting at the Police HQ in the morning. He would fill up the trunk of his Ford Explorer with his stuff, drive out of town...

...and never come back.

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Written by AbdulHakeem.
Please read and comment if you may, thanks.