“Mr. Cliff? You have a guest.” Ms. Wadworth stated, walking into my room. Her soft patter of steps found their way around the edge of my bed to stand beside where I sat. I was placed on the left edge of my bed listening to the traffic. I found myself enjoying the little noises from the world yet a dull feeling was always captured inside my chest.

“I do?” I asked, taking a stand and holding out my hand. My arm was grasped and I was taken to my living space. It felt cool out in my living space and I heard a small, hitched breath being taken from the kitchen. I smiled instantly knowing who it was.

“Melony, Please check in on our friend in the other room. I believe he was having chills last night.”

“Yes sir,” She said. She went back into my room and closed the door behind her.

I turned to face the direction of my guest. Though I couldn’t see, I was still able to pinpoint their exact location knowing how people in the past have entered my room. I thought up different scenarios in my head of how to interact but I accepted that whichever one I chose, they would have the same outcome.

“Hello Clance Walker. What brings you here?” I smiled, deciding to be polite.

Shuffling sounded and I followed the sound as it paced the room. The footsteps were lovely and the swishing of his pants reminded me of a flag lightly flapping from the wind.

Knocking erupted from my door distracting me from the child and I let them know it was unlocked.

The door opened casually and a citrusy smell wafted into the room.

“Pardon the intrusion Mr. Cliff.”

I listened as the door clicked close.

“No worries, Mrs. Walker. Is there something I can help you with?” While I focused on our conversation, I also listened as the boy walked to the door of my room. His body was now close enough to mine that I could take in his scent. It was sweet, due to being by his mother, but slightly musty which I found intriguing.

“I was just looking for my son, which I seemed to have found. I am so sorry.” She apologized, stepping forward to grab her boy.

Guessing that the interaction between us would be short, I was surprised to hear her halt only a few steps from me.

“No need for apologies, It’s a delight to have guests.” I replied, keeping silence from falling between us. Though my attempts were lost as I received nothing more to the conversation.

Mrs. Walker was now difficult to pinpoint after being still for so long. I shifted raising my left ear to the air patiently.

“I appreciate the politeness but I am sorry. I know you are busy with trying to adjust. How have you been?” Mrs. Walker asked, suddenly moving again. A hand appeared on my shoulder awkwardly but slid away almost as quickly as it appeared. We were now next to each other and I searched for the reasoning behind this situation.

“I’ve been fine.” I said nonchalantly. I brought my hand to the back of my head to scratch it. A feeling of awkwardness entered the room that Chloe refused to notice.

“Are you moving?” She asked, picking up dust with her fingertips.

“I am. There is nothing here for me anymore. I believe it is time in my life to take my leave.” I turned my figure to her direction and cocked my head as I imagined her curious image taking in the room.

“Chloe?” I asked, letting her name dance on the tip of my tongue. “Is something bothering you?”

An audible gulp could be heard and Clance took this chance to enter my room.

“It’s just that.” She bagan, “My mother once met this man. It was only a few years ago and he helped her with something.”

I shifted my weight wanting her to continue. Her pace of story-telling was slow but had a way to keep my attention.

“She was dealing with this coworker who had been bothersome for quite some time. He would follow her, and try to get into contact. He even went as far as buying the apartment next to her to stay close.” She continued.

“Sounds to me like your mother was dealing with sexual harassment.” I gave as a response.

“She was.” Chloe whispered to the wall. “But it was more than just him following her and contacting her. At work he said the most inappropriate things and violated her publicly.” I could hear the irritation and embarrassment in Chloe’s voice. “But this man my mother met. He said he would take care of it. He said all she had to do was keep it a secret.”

I smiled thinly as memories started to stir inside my head.

“Suddenly the coworker disappeared, and my mother was free. She never even cared about what happened to him. It may have been a coincidence, or a miracle but I always entertained the thought that perhaps… That man my mother met, actually did do something.”

A crinkling of paper sounded and Mrs. Walker pulled out an old image. “She told me, this was the man who saved her. That if I ever found him, I should thank him for her if she died before getting the chance herself.” Chloe was now facing my person and hesitance washed through her before continuing. “Mr. Cliff? Are you the man who worked this miracle? This image I have is of her and him and I must say, you share a resemblance.”

I let my smile fade and I frowned in her general direction. “If your mother’s name is Jane, then yes.”

No sound could be heard. I counted the seconds, waiting for her to give me a response. A ragged breath entered the atmosphere of the room and I realized Chloe was crying.

“Mrs. Walker?” I asked, coming closer.

“Don’t.” She whispered. “I don’t want a murder’s hand near me.” Her words were rude but understandable.

“Who said I murdered anybody?” I contested.

“Please, the day we entered this complex everyone told me you were evil. A man so ill that getting caught in your lies was unavoidable. At first I didn’t want to believe it because you seemed so genuine. But my son wrote to me that you have someone hiding here.” She took in a hitched breath and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “You saved my mother and since I am her daughter I will follow the promise she made to you. I will not tell. But you’re a monster, I don’t know whether society created you or if your mother twisted your mind into thinking this was right.” Chloe quietly exclaimed.

“What is wrong about what I’ve done.” I asked, pressuring the woman before me.

“Murder is wrong.” She bit.

I let out an amused chuckle. Finding the situation undeniably adorable. I helped this woman's mother from evil but in turn, she says I'm the true evil.

“You do resemble your mother.” I started ignoring her blatant explanation. “The first time I saw you I knew right away who you were. A murderer never forgets. I honored your mother’s promise as well. She said to never harm anyone who was a part of her future family. So I abided by those rules. Your son, otherwise, would have been perfect.” I licked my lips thinking of the endless possibilities.

“Clance baby, we’re leaving.” Chloe called. She watched me with horrified eyes and I felt them examining my person. Clance waddled from my room and went to his mother who immediately grabbed his hand and paced to the door.

“It was a pleasure to see you before I go, Mrs. Walker.” I called, only to add in the effect of cockiness.

She opened the door and firmly pushed her child out to the hall. “Likewise. And Mr. Cliff?” She asked before completely leaving.

I listened for the end of what she was about to say and I smirked at the words that were produced. “She says thank you.”

The door closed and I was left abandoned with the memories of so long ago. Jane had seen me multiple times before on her way up the elevator. But one day we got off at the same time.

A round man walked beside her and violated the boundaries of innocence. Jane was embarrassed and unsure how to react. We made a promise that day to have a secret between us.

Getting rid of the man was easy. I tracked him down and slit his throat. My dull scissors made a mess as I dug into the open wound locating his vocal box. It wasn’t deep and I was careful to not cut the two main veins, so his blood loss was minimal compared to a normal slit throat. I also cut his tongue to shreds and left the man bleeding for the next three hours. His body writhed on the floor but I left out of disgust. The last I heard of the incident, he was in the hospital recovering and no suspects.

Ms. Wadsworth exited my room. “He is doing well. What would you like me to do next?”

“Figure out the bus routine.” I said. “Get back to me on that when you can.”

Ms. Wadsworth nodded and shuffled from my apartment. Alone, I found my way around the apartment doing small tasks such as making tea, and listening to music. I had found after my experience from picking my mother from the home that I preferred slow and low cello music. It helped that my computer could take demands from spoken word otherwise I would have been helpless trying to click links without sight.

The hum of the stringed instrument vibrated my ears and I was swallowed into mindless chaos. I began to feel my chest lift, and an emotion slowly washed over me. An emotion of fear. The shallow feeling engulfed me and for the next three hours I sat silent.

When the looping song ended I could hear a faint knocking. I removed the headphones I was wearing and listened.

More, soft knocking.

“Boy, what is it you need?” I called to the closet behind me.

A muffled noise could be heard along with a struggle, but it calmed after he realized I wasn’t there to release him. “Relax child, in a few days everything will be over. You will be free and I will be on my way.” More silence followed and I suddenly remembered an intention I had.

I told my computer to open a blank document and I began to type from muscle memory. The keys clicking and my inspiration to write this letter overflowed.

For the rest of the week, I worked on selling the last of all the furniture in my apartment. I put in my final payment and work was informed that I would officially not be returning. Ms. Wadsworth explained to me the layout of the bus route and I told her my intentions of how the day would be.

She was silent but understanding. Afterall, it was the only way she would be able to be free. Free from me.

I was honest with myself. I regretted not having more time.

“Boy, do this and your parents will be saved. You don’t have to come back, but remember that if you tell anyone, I have people who can take care of everything for me.” The boy breathed heavily and left to fulfill his duty. In his hands was a file full of my brother’s writings, a detailed list of all my victims, and a personal letter to Emilia.

I heard my watch click a distinct note and I knew it was three forty-five.

“Time to head out Ms. Wadsworth.” I held out my arm and she took it leading me from the room. Its emptiness was something I could relate with. No meaning, no hidden passion. No underlying emotions to be found, just an empty space that could never be filled until someone else took control of it.

I was led down the familiar halls. Brought down to the main floor by the elevator and finally led down the stairs that entered out onto the street.

“Twelve paces forward. It was a pleasure working for you Mr. Cliff.” Ms. Wadsworth bowed.

I clasped Ms. Wadsworth’s hand and brought it to my lips. “Thank you, I hope you can get away cleanly.”

Within her hand she held an envelope containing more money than one would know what to do with. She bowed and turned walking down the street, holding the money and a single briefcase.

The boy by this time was entering the New York's Psychologist building. Feeling rushed, he asked the woman at the front desk for Emilia C. Swafford.

“I have an important letter for her from Mr. Gregory Cliff. Please, it’s urgent.” The boy panted. The woman at the desk was surprised and a little uneasy at his appearance but she told him the way to her room.

I, however, took my first step forward after hearing the buses break from the far left on the street. In my right pocket was my round glasses. I was wearing my casual grey suit and my hair was slicked back. A smile plastered on my face.

“Ms.Emilia? I have this for you!” The boy cried entering the room giving no thought of knocking. “It’s my duty to give this to you.”

He placed it within her hands before she could get a word in. Emilia was with a client and going through paperwork, but when she saw my name on the envelope, she quickly excused herself and went into the room next door. Interestingly enough, it was the room where she and I were first introduced.

My second and third steps were slow, and I brushed by people who scoffed at me. The air was cool and I imagined a dark world.

Dear Emilia C Swafford,

My lovely therapist.

It has been an honor talking with you over this past year. Your patience, anger, frustration and wittiness is something I always seemed to… enjoy?

Fourth, fifth and sixth step. Halfway there.

You should be proud of me. After all, I was able to keep it quiet for so long.

And you should be proud of yourself.

After all, you are now the first person to have a written copy of my confession.

Let me give you a brief review of everything that has happened to me.

I was born and separated from my brother. I grew up with emotion to some extent, and I loved killing insects and animals because it made me feel powerful.

My mother abused me until the day she was taken away.

My father committed suiced in front of me, and I had to continue my life with no one.

I recall a day where I suddenly felt nothing.

No more emotions… no more pain.

I was only taught that Society is what I needed to be like.

‘We do not change society, we must simply blend in.’

I murdered those I deemed unfit for this world.

I murdered pests, men and women who I saw as worthless.

Many I could've killed, many I could’ve tortured.

So many that deserved to die.

But I realized something.

When I think back to all those people, the faces of men, women and children.

I hear their screams.

I tasted their tears.

I felt their deaths.

It was so amazing to feel that adrenaline going through my veins…

It was so amazing to feel something again.

Seventh to tenth step and I was now to the curve. But I still had two more steps to go. Two more steps til I could leave. The bus was only a few car lengths away now and the crowd to cross the street was too distracted by their phones to notice my intentions.

I only regret one thing.

That I wasn’t there to see my mother die.

I told her I would be there to watch as her soul went to Hell.

A place I believe I too, may end up at.

Though, perhaps the Lord will have mercy over me.

Afterall, I was only doing my job.

To help society.

You were doing it too my dear.

I know what you did. I figured it out. Your crime and mistake.

Your husband cheated on you with the woman at the Daycare. You found out and set it up with cops. They covered for you. You got into the accident while they murdered him and they took your daughter to live with your sister.

You made sure your own son died too. But you weren’t expecting to lose your legs. You forged the devorce papers and gained all his money and wealth.

Only to continue living in the same town.

To continue with your job of ‘helping’ people.

Darling, you are just as twisted as I.

Perhaps we will meet in Hell.

I wish I could tell you all this in person but I realised that you wouldn’t be able to do what you wanted with this information. For you too would be locked up for crimes. The exposure of those cops would be revealed and you would lose everything you worked so hard to achieve. I send you this letter knowing that you will do what you want.

Yourself, or society.

Perhaps saving yourself would be helping society. I guess I will never know...

-Mr. G. Cliff

I took out my glasses and they found their respected place on the bridge on my nose. Then, I took my final two steps forward. I didn’t even hear the horn of the bus sound. I never heard it’s breaks, the gasps from the crowd I never even heard a peep.

My life was taken away and the only thought I had was perhaps now I could truly be free from being this faulted perfection.

Emilia rocked back in her chair as she sat by the floral couch. A dumbstruck expression etched itself upon her face. Gathering her thoughts, she pulled out a cigarette and lighter. Before lighting the end of her obsession she burned an edge of my letter.

She flicked it to the floor and watched it burn. She then wheeled herself to a tall black cabinet and pulled out my file. Inside was a large amount of papers and records. She also pulled out a blank page and grabbed her pen.

Mr. Gregory Cliff,

You are by far the rarest case I’ve ever had the possibility to work on. You solved my secret, committed your own murders and lived through hell. You survived but I now realize what the cost was.

You are a monster.

I will always remember your name.

You believed you were perfection and perhaps you were.

But to the world you were an indent.

A mistake.

A mark of evil many looked upon with disgust.

Though I believe you are a mix of the two. A compromise on death.

Till we meet again,

From your therapist and perhaps friend,

-Ms. Emila