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My thoughts reread the letter he sent me, word for word. It praises my work, calling me a legend. Telling me I’m the only one worthy of his letters. I’ve burned them all after I dusted for fingerprints. It was a dead end.
All I want is to pin my murders on someone. Bumping off a third of the motorcycle club was a little too much, even though it wasn’t all me. That many kills in such a short period was overkill, literally, and now the cops are sniffing around. Knowing all of this, the beast from within couldn’t stop, and now the pressure breathes down my neck, as this is the closest I’ve come to getting caught.
If a wannabe fan found me, I’m no longer invisible. It’s what I’ve prided myself on. I could go anywhere and never be seen. The letters haunt me, not that I would ever tell anyone about them.
The rain pours down as I drop my last tarp into the incinerator before closing the heavy metal door and pressing the large red button labeled ‘on’. The walls shake as it throttles to life before the heat is felt on my fingertips. This is definitely against code, but lucky for me, this plant was shut down a decade ago.
My whole life I’ve followed my father or brother. I’ve always been willing to do anything for them. It’s how I earned the nickname The Butcher, but for the first time in my life, I want that name to be gone and get a fresh start.
If only I can come up with an idea to spin this, to make it look like an advantage to thecosta nostra.
“Fuckinghell,Max.They’repinning this murder on The Butcher.” My brother, Romeo, tosses the newspaper at me.
“It was me. You should read the online version. It’s much better.” My eyes stay on my phone while I eat my breakfast. It’s the only meal guaranteed in my day. Shit goes sideways fast, then you’re out for twenty-four hours cleaning up messes and problems.
“What about this one?” He tosses another paper. It makes a thud on the table.
I lean over, curious what this one could be. I burn most of my victims. I can’t keep the smile off my face thinking about the ones I don’t burn. There’s always a reason. I leave them to highlight what a shitty person they are. I’m doing the world a favor.
“That’s not mine,” I respond, reaching for my coffee. For some reason, peanut butter mixed with jam and my coffee tastes like birthday cake. Each time I take a bite, and then have a sip of coffee, its flavor explodes in my mouth. It’s my favorite combination. My eyes close as I savor the taste.
When I open my eyes again, I say, “I have an admirer.” Referring to the copycat the article described.
Romeo is glaring down at me. He’s so much more uptight now that he has children.
“They’re calling you a fucking serial killer!” His neck strains under the anger he’s trying to control.
I snort. “That’s hardly the case.”
A drop of water in my ear from my shower earlier catches my attention and I tip my head, trying to draw it out.
Romeo keeps on whining. “The fucking cops are sniffing around.”
“I’m not a serial killer. I can’t help if someone is trying to mimic me. We have a hundred enemies. It could be anyone.”
“Maybe it’s time you take things seriously in life.”
I place my warm cup down and stand. I match my brother’s gaze at eye level and lean into him. “I take my job very seriously. I have protected the Rossi sisters with my life more than once. Your wife’s family. Not mine. You need someone handled, I do it. Never disrespect me again, brother.”
I sit back down, but my breakfast is ruined. I can’t enjoy it. If I can’t savor its taste, what’s the point of eating it?
“How about I lie low?” I soften my tone as an idea gains traction. “Let me disappear. A vacation of sorts.”
Romeo’s lips stay perfectly flat, giving no indication of what he’s thinking.
“If I know where you are, everyone else will know. No one takes vacations, anyway,” he scoffs.
“That’s the thing. Not even you will know where I am. I’ll come home when it’s safe.” I’m not sure if it’s a lie. There’s a possibility I’ll never return.
IneverthoughtI’dlive by an ocean, but I have to give Sienna credit, Oakport Beach is the perfect location. It’s far from any city. Its police force is an inherited milestone. Generation after generation of the same family. Tourists haven’t taken over, but there are enough new people coming into town that it’s not weird.
I’ve rented a place out of town; a little cabin surrounded by trees. My closest neighbor is a boarded-up house that’s seen better days. The same place Sienna has called multiple times regarding its rent. I have a little shed where I keep all of my knives and guns. I’ve reinforced its structure, and no one is getting in or out of it. I couldn’t part without my tools. I still enjoy cleaning, polishing, and organizing them, even if they’re not being used. This town would notice someone missing, unlike the city.
I’m like every other dude out there. Instead of puttering around in a garage with hammers and screwdrivers, I have other tools. The process is the same.
There’s a crow that lives on my property. It would take me less than a minute to get rid of its nest, but I’m tuning a new leaf. No more killing for me.
The black bird caws then swoops down, standing near my laptop. My new university course went live yesterday. Once I complete it, I’ll have my fourth honoree degree. I’m trying to think of what degree I want to do next. I need to do something with my free time.
