Down The Wrong Path Chapter One

Chapter One

The wind hit my face, memories of a life I no longer wished to remember, engulfed me in turmoil. My life isn't one that most could go through and keep their sanity. I honestly am not sure if I kept my own. I know what I am is a monster. I know what I'm doing is wrong, but I succumb. Even when I try not to, I fall into the same patterns, and I keep going in the direction that started eight years ago. That's a story for another time though, and it may be what sways you in understanding how I became what I am today.

I mainly kill men, they usually become my objective. Women are more innocent, however there have been occasions. I try to shoot for the men, or women, that don't have the best intentions, or do things that most people wouldn't condone. And I know that doesn't change much on how you see me, but maybe it will after you hear some of my stories, believe me, I have plenty.

April 14^th, 2016

Today is cold; brisk. I enjoy the cold weather; it's easier on me than heat. I can move better for some reason, which I know sounds weird. Most people I have met say the opposite. Heat just tends to make me feel lethargic and useless. I'm on my way to work, the precinct downtown. I am a cop there, and have been for about four years now. I graduated from the academy when I was 22, and got sworn in at 23. I often find my victims through my work. Most of them are people that no one cares about, so it makes it easier to do what I do and not get caught.

As I walk up the steps and through the door, Houston greets me. He doesn't work here anymore, retired about six years ago; however, he comes to the precinct to sit in the lobby and say hi to all the people that come in. He's really the only person here that I have ever opened up to, the only person in general. Houston is the only person to know what happened to my sister, at least on how she died. No one knows the full story, not even the people living in our home town.

She would have been 20 this year. I have learned, the hard way, that my actions have consequences. I don't open up to people and I never display my weaknesses. I have made many mistakes, and they have helped me in realizing that having ties isn't always a good thing. Those will get you killed.

Leaving work, I usually go to a little diner called, "Fred's." The owner, Fred, is a decent man. And I don't find many of them. He often talks too much, but I think that's just because he's so used to being around people and always has new experiences and stories to tell. I don't, I'm not a good talker. I'm better with observing and being patient. Walking into the diner, Cheryl, the waitress walks me to my normal booth. As we exchange idle chit chat, she walks off to give the cook my normal order.

Fred struts over to me, and sits down. "Greg!"

Smiling slightly, I nod in acknowledgement. "Fred,"

"So, was going through some paperwork, I'm very happy with how things are going lately. I was worried for a few months. Thankfully, though, things have picked up."

"I've noticed; why do you think that things slacked off?"

"No idea, all I know is that I'm glad it picked back up. I mean, this isn't my only income, but still. It is to someone, and I would have hated to cut hours."

"I'm glad too, I know how bad it is nowadays to get and keep a job."

Cheryl came by and placed my food in front of me, "There you go, darling, enjoy!" Her smile was contagious and I found myself smiling back at her. Fred took that moment to say his good byes. Somehow he knew I preferred to eat in peace. Which I was thankful for.

After finishing my meal, I sat in my booth looking out the window for a bit. There was a girl outside struggling with some books and papers in her arms. I felt for her, that use to be me. Her sweatshirt had a kitten on it, and her hair was disheveled. Something about her drew my eyes, though. I couldn't stop watching her. Something inside me seemed to just click and I knew I wanted to get to know her. Then she was gone. I didn't see where she went. I hoped I would see her again, and if I did, I hoped that I would recognize her.

Later that night, I was lying in bed thinking on the day I had - reminiscing. It hadn't been too eventful, but my thoughts drifted to the girl in the kitten sweatshirt. I wondered what made me feel the way I did. The need to know her. Usually when that happened, I wanted something from them, I wanted their blood. She was different, I wanted to see her smile. I had no idea what was coming over me and I was unsure how to feel about it. I drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

June 23^rd, 2011

I hadn't showered, but I needed to. I could feel the sweat seeping out of my pores and onto the uniform I was wearing. Why hadn't I thought to take a shower before coming? I stood as straight as I could in this stifling heat, dressed in uniform, and waiting for my turn to walk across the stage. I was finally graduating from the academy. My name was called and I let out a breath as I walked up the steps to receive my degree. Criminal Justice. Law. I was proud of myself, even though there was no one here to be proud of me. I scanned the crowd as I accepted my piece of paper that I had worked so hard for. A piece of paper that made me more than others. A piece of paper that gave me power.

After the ceremony I went home, showered, changed, then proceeded to go to the bar a few blocks from my house. It was hot outside, but in the bar they had the AC on high and the music up. I asked the bartender for a beer and sat watching the patrons. I was new here. I didn't know anyone and I was starting over, again.

Men and women came and went as I sat there. One beer after another. I was just watching, getting a feel for the place, if you will. Around midnight a man came in with a lady on his arm. He was boisterous and talked with his hands. She looked shy and sad. He often went off and left her, which happened for about an hour.

A man moved in on her, he was drunk and wanted someone who would be easy. I could see she was explaining to the man that she came here with someone, but he didn't seem to be listening. She kept glancing at her companion; however, it wasn't in the sense that she wanted saving. She was scared.

The man that came in with her started glancing at her, anger etched upon his twisted face. Most would assume he would go after the man, but I knew better. He was going to go after her. I had seen that look a million times, and I knew it well. As he walked towards the woman, she was shifting in her seat. Her attempts to get the man to leave her alone were futile.

The man grabbed the other guy by his collar and pushed him away, not once taking his eyes off the woman he came with. The other guy got the hint and walked away, defeated. He grabbed her by the arm and pretty much pushed her through the door. I downed my beer and handed it to the bartender who had also been watching the scene unfold. She was shaking her head, she knew too.

I followed them quietly; they weren't going to their car. He pulled her towards the woods on the side of the building. My guess is he didn't want to leave yet, but he wasn't going to have a choice when I was done with him. I followed them to a small clearing about 20 feet from the bar, the brush made it tricky to get through unheard, but I was stealthier than he was. Not to mention he'd had quite a bit to drink and seemed like he couldn't handle it.

When they stopped he threw her down to the ground and started to laugh. "Fucking Bitch." He spit on her face, and I noticed some saliva hanging from his mouth. My anger was rising. She didn't deserve this. Her horror showed, plain as day, on her face, and the asshole took it in. I was the same as him, but I didn't take pleasure from the innocent. I took pleasure from the horror of my victims. Making them feel the same horror they inflict on others.

He reached down and pulled her back up to face him, where he proceeded to slap her. His hand collided with her face, and I heard the faint pop that comes with it. I slowly began to slink from the shadows. Trying not to be seen. He was either too far gone, or too stupid to care. However, the girl saw me. She made no effort to call out. She just looked me in the eyes as I descended on the man.

I grabbed him around the throat and told him to let her go. My voice was deep, husky even. He let her go. And she ran. I was glad about it, even though she had seen me. I figured she wouldn't talk. I turned him to face me. He was very far gone; it almost didn't seem fair. I didn't care, because in that moment, the girl was getting her justice.

I placed my hands on his shoulders, pressing my fingers down hard on the nerves near his collar bone. He howled in pain, and I extended my leg up and kicked him in his privates. Almost immediately, he doubled over. I used the same leg and brought my knee up to his face with such force that his head flew back and he landed on his back on the ground.

I placed a leg on each side of him, and moved his face to look him in the eyes. "You won't hurt her again." Then I stomped my foot down on his face. I heard his skull pop and felt it crush beneath my foot. I pulled it away and saw he was still breathing, not for long, but I wasn't one to let it linger. I stomped his chest in too. He laid there. Still. I heard an owl hoot.

I grabbed his hand and pulled him to the edge of the woods. I gathered some wood and made a fire. I don't know why, but I liked fire, it was infinite. I made a six-foot line of wood and got it caught. The smoke billowed around me as I grabbed him and heaved him onto the flames. They smothered for a bit, but with enough kindling and a skilled man at the wheel, it soon caught again. I stood there, the smell of the vulgar man from the bar drifting off with the wind.

April 15^th, 2016

It was Saturday. I woke up to the birds chirping outside my window. It was a good sound. I rolled over and stared out my window. This was really the only day I ever got to sleep in and sometimes I would lie in bed listening to those birds until noon. The clock on my nightstand read 8:34, I rolled over and faced the wall. The woman from yesterday dancing in and out of my thoughts. I ended up dozing a few times. When I finally pulled myself out of bed, it was 11:46.

Breakfast consisted of microwaveable oatmeal and a banana. It worked for me. Then I flipped on the television and surfed through the mindless jumbo. Nothing caught my eye. I grabbed my duffle bag off the couch and filled it with some clothes. Saturday's were usually gym days. Might as well start early.

I got to the gym and found an empty elliptical, as I moved with the machine I thought about some different things I could do to occupy my time. I hadn't killed anyone in about a month and I was trying to keep it that way. Yes, I loved the power it gave me, but I wanted something more out of life. I just wasn't sure how to find it.

After a few sets with the barbell I ended up in the swimming area. This is where I spent most of my time. I enjoyed water, I loved how I felt while in it and I loved challenging myself by going under as long as I could. My longest stint was about 2 minutes. No one else was in here, I preferred it that way. I did a few strokes, and then just floated. I would have been happy to let the water just carry me away.

August 15^th, 2006

I was eighteen, and just graduated from high school a few months prior. My sister was thirteen; she was just hitting puberty and didn't know how to handle herself. I was who she would go to. We lived on a small farm on the outskirts of Covington. Our father was a farmer, and a very bitter man. He often would take out his frustrations on my sister. My only thought on it was that he was mad that she was here and her mother, our mother, wasn't.

Amelia didn't talk much, especially to Father. She would hole up in her room and hope he wouldn't call for her. If he did, it usually meant that she was about to be 'disciplined.' I had started to work out a few years ago, when I first got into high school and started playing football. I would often stay at school past practice and use their equipment to exercise. My fuel was Father. One day he would pay for what he was doing, and I would be the one to execute.

He called her name from the living room of our two-bedroom shack. Slowly, she came down to him. He grabbed her hair and forced her to the ground. I had just got home from school. He was showing her a spot on the floor where there was dirt. "You see that? See it! You need to do a better job cleaning up, I'm starting to wonder why I even keep you around."

My hands were clenched at my side as I watched my sister go to the kitchen for the broom and dust pan. I wanted to stop this, but I wasn't ready yet. I went up to my room and tried to drown out my sisters cries as he beat her anyway for not having the dirt already cleaned up.

April 15^th, 2016

A noise brought me out of my memory. A few children were coming into the swimming area. They would be going to the smaller pool, most likely, yet the person with them would probably come to the pool I was in. She looked tall from where I was, wearing a full suit, not those bikinis' like most girls her age. She was probably around 24 or 25. I was unsure. No doubt though, it was the girl from the other day. I watched her as she moved the children into the designated area.

She didn't come to this pool like I thought she would, instead she sat on the edge of the water in the 3 ft pool and kicked her legs so she would splash some of the children. The giggles were contagious and I ended up finding myself smiling in that moment.

I pulled myself up and walked to where my towel lay, haphazardly. As I wiped myself down, I attempted to glance her way. She seemed engrossed in what she was doing and wasn't in the least bit interested in anything that didn't involve one of the children. I admired that.

I thought about walking to her, but thought better of it and left. I wasn't in a good place to be attempting to woo a girl. I had never even tried, let alone wanted to. This was so new to me, and I didn't entirely know how to handle the feelings I was having. Sure, I'd been aroused, and I'd been with women. Never anyone that I truly cared for though. I stopped caring after my sister. She was the last. That was eight years ago. **

October 1^st, 2011

It's been four years, four long years since I lost my sister. I have trouble sleeping at night because of the memories of her last breath. The way she held my hand and whispered that she could see mom. I loved her then and I love her now. She is the only girl I ever have, and ever will, love. I grabbed the drink in front of me. Bourbon. I made a face as I drank the whole glass down. "Slow down, Skippy. That's your fifth one. You drink anymore and you might just get yourself into trouble." The bartender was trying to look out for me, she usually did. I swear she knows what happened that night with the guy. His name had been Roger.

The bartender often gave me weird looks like she knew something she shouldn't. I wasn't about to harm her though; she hadn't outed me. If she did know, she was keeping quiet about it. I liked that. She was a good looking woman, but most women couldn't tempt me in more than a bedroom visit. I wasn't sure why, but I'd never had a girlfriend, and I didn't want one. I was better being alone.

I grabbed the drink she laid before me, and shuttered as the burning liquid passed through me. "Why do we let our demons hold us captive?" I asked her.

She stared at me for a moment, contemplating. "Sometimes our demons aren't holding us captive. We are." I stared back at her, she was cleaning some dishes, yet she was definitely listening to me. I didn't often talk to her like this, she seemed to be quite interested in the fact that I was right now.

"Do you have any demons?" I asked her, bluntly.

"Everyone does, it just depends on how we fight them that shows us who we truly are."

"Do you think the demons can make you a bad person?"

"If you let them, but I also believe that demons can shape someone into a good person. If they try hard enough."

I sat there silent for a moment. My mind was moving so fast, so many things going in and out of focus. I was a monster; did I want to change that? Did my sister still need justice? How did I change the person I made myself become? Did I even want to?

"Sometimes I feel lost." I told her.

"We all do, darling. But we just gotta look, and we find ourselves again." She smiled at me, and surprisingly, I smiled back.

April 17^th, 2016

Work. It's all I seemed to do anymore. I was 27, shouldn't I have more of a life than just work, and occasionally the diner or bar? I needed some friends. Today was slow, a lot of Monday's were. I was a lucky one who worked Monday through Friday, but it had taken almost 5 years to get to this point. I felt I deserved it.

Going into the lobby there sat Houston, his grey hair framed his face, the white in his hair seemed to be painted in haphazardly. There was a ragged and seemingly uneducated look in his deep brown eyes. His smile seemed out of place, like he was thinking something funny yet never shared it. He sat in his white chair, looking so out of place in the little brown room, that the precinct had deemed the lobby. Houston was a character, you never knew what he was thinking; however, in the same moment you could feel like you had known him your whole life.

As I walked by him, his small smirk radiated towards me, "Greg. How're ya doing today?"

I stopped and turned towards him, "Could be better, you know..."

"Ah. Yes. You've had quite the life, haven't ya? Hm. You know, you'll never live for the present, if you are constantly stuck in the past." Houston winked his thin eye, and laughed like he had told the funniest joke in the world. I stared at him for a moment before nodding my head and walking out of the precinct. I needed to figure out what I needed out of life. More importantly, what I wanted from it.

Life was becoming a monotonous back and forth of nothingness, and no matter what I tried, nothing brought me the same thrill. I often played with idea of slipping up. Of going off and just killing a mugger, or something. I always told myself no, then I would slip off into memory lane and get my kicks off on a crime already committed.

April 21^st, 2016

Death. A life had been taken, and this time, it wasn't by me. All of the murders in town had always been me, so I was shocked when I heard about a new murder. It was messy too. The precinct was all a buzz with the new information. They were under the impression it was the same person who killed Sterling. But I knew better. I had killed Sterling. And I was proud of that fact. I felt wistful about the fact that someone else had murdered in my town, also felt some jealousy and territorial anger as well. This was my town. People didn't just come here and murder someone under my watch. I felt a new sense of purpose. I was going to find the killer.

I went with another detective to the scene. His name was Orlando, and he was an older cop, maybe mid-40s. He'd been doing this for a while, I asked if I could tag along, and surprisingly he had said yes. I didn't talk while I was there, I just observed.

I grabbed a picture off the mantle. A boy about 17, a woman about 40, and a man that looked like he was pushing 50. The man now lay on the floor, his name was Thomas. Kinick was their last name. They had been living in the house for about 2 years, were a picture perfect family, according to their neighbors. I knew better, no one was picture perfect, not even the Kinick's. I would find something to push me in the right direction. I combed every inch of the house, the mother and son were in the kitchen with another detective.

Orlando came to me a few times, asking me what I had found. There wasn't much to report. They were hiding something, I knew that. This family wasn't this squeaky clean. I also knew the mother was faking her tears. She didn't care, she was probably hoping for us to leave so she could call up the insurance company. Honestly, who could blame her? I didn't think she was the killer though; she's too prim and proper. If she had anything to do with it, it was a hired job.

I found Thomas' den, it was roped off, for whatever reason. I went inside anyway. His computer was propped open; a small ball was bouncing from one side of the screen to the other. I moved the mouse slightly and looked around the room as the computer began to whir to life. His shelves were full of interesting books about different cultures, languages, do it yourself books, etc. Not someone I would usually go for, honestly. He seemed a bit too narrow. I went for people who had no sense; this guy looked to have it, at least from my slight observation of the home. I could be wrong. I went back to the laptop and saw a big reason for Thomas to have been killed. He'd been involved in Embezzlement through his work.