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But now… No. Now he was determined. He’d made up his mind.
He continued to trace his thighs with the knife, remembering the wounds and how they’d been inflicted.
His scars reminded him of tree roots, dug deep into the soil, soaking up essential minerals and nutrients.
The ground was a stabilizing force to him.
He let out a faint shuddering sigh.
And then someone tapped on his window.
He stiffened, pretending he hadn’t heard at first.
A hand tapped a bit more insistently.
He turned slowly.
A police officer was staring in through his window, frowning at the man.
The man didn’t flinch. He simply looked up at the officer with a blank expression, the knife still in his hand.
“Sir, is there a problem? You can’t just park here,” the officer said, his hand resting on the holster of his gun.
The man’s eyes flickered to the gun, then back to the officer’s face. He gave a small smile, but it was a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“No problem, Officer. Just waiting for someone,” he said, his voice smooth and calm.
The officer narrowed his eyes, looking at the man with suspicion. “Mind if I take a look inside your car?” he asked. His eyes glanced toward the discarded pants. How embarrassing.
The man’s grip on the knife tightened. He knew he couldn’t let the officer search the car.
“I’m sorry, Officer, but I can’t let you do that,” he said, his voice even colder than before.
The cop paused, as if taken aback. “You sure about that, buddy?” he said, frowning.
The cop was a young man, with handsome, pale features. His face wasclean-shaven, and his uniform was crisp and clean. The man in the car felt a twinge of jealousy at the sight of the officer’s youth and vitality.
“I’m sure,” the man said, his voice low. “I’m a private person, you know?”
“I can’t help but notice…” The cop’s eyes moved to the knife, then to the scars on the driver’s legs. “What’s going on here?”
“Just a little ritual,” said the man in the car. He didn’t try to hide it. What would be the point of that? Instead, he said it firmly, with a finality in his tone, daring the cop to question him further.
“I see… And what sort of ritual is that?”
The man in the car smiled again, the same smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s a personal one. You wouldn’t understand,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.
The cop’s hand tightened on his gun. “I’m going to have to ask you to step out of the car.”
The man in the car hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering to the police station once again. But he knew he couldn’t risk it. Not now. Not when he was so close to fulfilling his plan.
He opened the car door slowly, the knife still in his hand, and stepped out into the pouring rain. The cop moved to search him, but the man shook his head. “I don’t have anything on me,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender.
“Please drop the knife,” the cop said.
The man from the car nodded slowly, but glanced in the direction of the precinct.
No one was watching.
