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His chart was next to his bed, and I took a quick glance. I didn’t understand half of the things that were written, nor was I able to read the handwriting, but I managed to see that he was shot four times in his stomach and chest, and still managed to survive.
I placed the paper aside and stared at him.
He was connected to the breathing tube and an IV. He could barely move his hands, and they rested right next to his body. He was very weak, and it would be a miracle if he survived. And that only made my chest ache.
He didn’t deserve this. All he did was do his job properly.
I clutched the small pillow close to my body and sat next to his legs.
It took him a long time before he was able to take off his breathing mask, and as soon as he spoke, I froze.
‘‘I saw you.’’ His voice was hoarse. He could barely utter the words. ‘‘I know that you were with him willingly. You’re just as bad as he is.’’
Something inside of me snapped.
His words echoed in my mind, on repeat like a broken record. It was like everything happened in slow motion. It took me a moment to fully comprehend his words, with a slight shake of my head.
The disbelief didn’t last too long, and I was able to bring myself out of that daze quickly.
I glanced at him, no longer feeling any compassion. Any remorse I felt for him was long gone. It was replaced by a sudden burst of anger. I’d never felt so angry to the point of my hands trembling.
I clutched the pillow, trying to hide the sudden emotion that overwhelmed me. My lips thinned into a line, and I debated which step to take next.
The breathing mask fell from his hands, and he gasped for air. He was struggling, and his eyes begged me to help me. There was nothing but fear in his eyes, and now, I had a decision to make.
I stood up and walked closer to him, leaning to whisper in his ear.
‘‘Dead men tell no tales.’’
I distanced myself from him, and gave him the biggest, most wicked grin. His eyes were widened, and a tear slipped down his cheek. He made gurgling noises, struggled to breathe, and that was a sight I will never forget.
Immediately after, I placed the pillow on his face and made sure he wouldn’t have any way to breathe. He tried squirming, protesting, but I was much stronger than him at the moment. His hand gripped the sleeve of my hospital gown, but quickly it simply fell limp next to his body.
For good measurement, I left the pillow on top of his face for a moment longer, before all the machines started beeping.
Quickly, I returned the pillow beneath his head and put the breathing mask on his face, but it didn’t matter.
He was dead.
I killed him.
And now, that secret died with him.
By the time the doctors and nurses came running, it seemed like I was trying to wake him up to help him. Tears strolled down my cheeks, and they barely managed to get me off him. Later on, they ruled his death a heart attack.
The old man was so scared that in midst of me suffocating him, he suffered a heart attack and simply fucking died.
It’s only after Agent King had helped me back into my room, and stayed with me for a while to calm me down, that I finally stopped crying and shaking.
A nurse came to check on me and gave me some meds to fall asleep and to calm down. Agent King remained by my side until I fell asleep, probably skeptical of leaving me alone in such a state.
I felt possessed. I wasn’t this kind of person, and yet, it was like I’d just been truly born. A fulfilling sensation washed over me, like a hurricane. It was not something that I could explain, something that was so deeply rooted inside of me, that it took me years to realize it.
And the moment the nurse walked out of the door and the meds kicked in, I grinned widely from ear to ear.
Now, Micah would remain my secret, and there wasn’t a single soul that could testify otherwise.
I guess that somewhere along the line, I truly became a fan of his work. So much that I ended up killing a person.
