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Updated: 2002
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"A Second Chance"
It was midnight on a foggy Tuesday. I was exhausted and my pager refused to let me sleep. Sometimes I wished that I had any other job but this. I sat up and yawned, rubbed my eyes, and returned my attention back to the beeper. I hated this thing but it was part of my job. I was an agent and my main job was to investigate serial killers, homicides, and mostly strange grisly murders. When I first started I realized that I had a weak stomach for the job but I strangely got used to it. Let me tell you, it�s not normal to see the things that I�ve seen. I haven�t been able to sleep after getting this job, and that had been 6 years ago. I�m 26 now and I�ve been suffering from insomnia. I was glad for that too because for most of my life I�ve been getting these awful nightmares. The victims of the murders came to haunt my dreams and I kept recalling their brutal executions over and over again. It comes to show how violent the human race can be. We�re nothing but a bunch of sadist bastards who get high off the scent of blood. I felt sick thinking about it.
My life was unnatural and it seemed like I was living the same old nightmare over and over again. My life was stuck on repeat. Sometimes I even wondered if I was really awake or if I was really dreaming. When you�re an insomniac, you lose touch with reality. Your mind sleeps but your body stays wide awake. Sometimes I wake up with a haze of confusion around me and I usually end up somewhere I don�t recall going to. Nothing is real anymore.
I walk over to my mirror, it looks like an antique but I know it only cost about $10 at a garage sale. I didn�t get paid that much. My blond hair was a mess and I noticed how much shittier I looked since 6 years ago. I have bags under my eyes, I rarely shave, and I hadn�t had much of chance to cut my hair. I wanted to laugh at myself but I was too tired. All I could do was take a piss, brush my teeth, and hop in the shower. I needed that cold shower badly. At least I wasn�t out of shape, still had my six-pack when other guys usually start carrying a keg. I worked out daily, it was the only thing I could do when I had an extra 8 hours to my day. My body felt sore all over. I must�ve been working out heavily yesterday too. I could barely remember. The only thing my tortured mind let me remember was the cases I�ve been working on. That was all I could think about and I guess that was why I still had my job. With all that thinking, I didn�t miss a single detail and I helped solve about a dozen cases � not to brag or anything.
I got dressed in an unwashed white dress shirt and a black jacket, black pants � basically the whole Men in Black routine without the sunglasses and the tie. I didn�t wear a tie to work anymore; I hated the feeling of having them on. It reminded me of the Hagen�s Hangman Murders.
We had stumbled into a burnt warehouse full of carcasses. Some of them were still alive, though not for long, and were hanging from a hook. Apparently a worker at a butcher shop went loony after a bunch of white collar workers decided to tear down his store to build a business office. Apparently they had forgotten to tell him that. Everything he had has been in that little shop. He rarely went home because he didn�t make enough money to pay rent. He wanted to avoid the bills so badly that he secretly lived in the backroom of that shop. He was almost crushed to death when they found him but he still had some strength in him. He ran off and wasn�t seen for about 6 months. Then the murders started, people disappeared without a trace, the people that had torn down Hagen�s butcher shop. He used a blunt weapon to knock them out and dragged them to his warehouse. Hagen bound their wrists and ankles together and stitched their lips together so they couldn�t scream. Once they regained consciousness he would hold onto them by their neckties and let them dangle from the railing but he was weak. He couldn�t hold on for long after the incident. He slipped the tie around the numerous hooks and chains in the warehouse and let them slowly choke to death. While he waited, he took out his butcher knife and started hacking away at their limbs, letting them hang like meat at, well, a butcher shop. We did catch Hagen later after one of those white collar workers set off the alarm system. Hagen wasn�t the very image we expected to see. He looked like a monster after the accident. His arm was grotesquely bent backwards and there were nails on his body. He was deeply scarred and battered and he could no longer talk. All he could do was let out these horrible screams. And that was the last thing we heard when he darted at us, swinging the butcher knife around with his good arm, before we fired 5 shots into his chest and 2 to his head.
Hagen was the first of my nightmares. I would sleep and I�d see him laughing at me. I felt weightless, like I was suspended by something. I�d wake up coughing and gagging like I had been strangled in my sleep. Nothing was real anymore�
Fuck. I now just realized what time it was. It�s 1:00AM; those fuckers paged me at fucking 1:00AM, which I regarded as sleep time. I swore under my breath and started for the door, and then I realized I had left my keys on the counter. I hated mornings. I quickly grabbed them and walked out of my apartment. I was the only one in the hallway and at times it seemed a bit awkward. I knew some people were awake, but no one went to work at this time. The resonance of my footsteps annoyed me today, it had the extra clunk in it today. The hallways and corridors of my apartment never seem familiar to me. That was probably because I spend more time at work than I did in here. At night, the dark stains on the beige walls resembled blood more than anything else. Not exactly something your average Joe would think but I�m not your average Joe. I�m Christian Tourist, an investigative agent with a nauseating job. I felt like a child now, I feared walking in the dark hallways even though my job was a greater danger to me. I held onto my childhood fears along with every other fear I had been given. I felt like I was being stalked in the darkness and I quickly made my way outside and to my car. I felt so stupid running from imaginary creatures like that.
I drove towards my office downtown, where my boss had paged me. He was going to bitch at me for being late but I didn�t give a shit. I was one of the very few who decided to keep a shit job like this. He didn�t do shit but sign papers and order me to capture another nightmare for myself. Chuck Anders was my boss. He was one of those guys who cheated on his wives, divorce them, marry again and start over. He must�ve had a dozen kids, some of which, he probably doesn�t even know about. It was kind of like he was setting up a franchise. This guy was a prick and everyone that worked for him knew it. I hated looking at his face, watching him chew on his stupid cigar, glaring at me. The only man who could tolerate him was Jesse Seamus. Seamus was a brownnoser only to the big boss. To us regular folk, he acts like the balls beside a dick.
Everything was fine before when I had my old detective job back in LA, but for some idiotic reason, I took the transfer here in Little Hills. They treated me decently there, I was their idol but after that case, that one case, nothing had been the same. The Diamond Hill Massacres. Thirty-four bodies were buried in these hills, and they all their teeth and fingernails pulled off. The killer was playing games with me when he confronted me and I took a bullet in the right shoulder. My partner Luis saved my ass, I remember that, he came out of nowhere and shot at the suspect like a crazy motherfucker. Turns out that our suspect wasn�t the only person involved in the crimes. He was just an accomplice. The real target was still at large at the time and had started another killing spree. This one completely different, it was like he was another serial killer. I was an agent at that time. He left me messages with the remains of his victims and I was on a wild hunt for him. I didn�t want to see anyone else lose their lives over this little game but� I lost my partner Luis Dantes and the officer I was starting to really like, Sara Veselis, along with a few others. I couldn�t do it anymore; I couldn�t lose anyone else I cared about. I left the case. Another man, Daniel Quinn, took my place and caught the killer, I really applauded him. He did what I couldn�t do� I felt weak and because of it, I knew I had lost some respect. I couldn�t stand doing that job but it was all I was ever good at.
I parked the car in the lot and realized how much darker it was than in my apartment. It gave me the chills thinking about what could happen to me. I�d seen too many things. At that very thought, my worst fears seem to have caught on to me; I felt something on my shoulder. I whipped around and took out the gun I hid in my jacket. My Beretta Match stared at my attacker and could see more than I could.
I was tempted to pull the trigger but instead I took a few steps back, keeping the gun trained on my so-called attacker. My foot had reached luminosity from the parking lot lights. I kept walking backwards slowly, keeping my eye on the shadowy figure in front of me.
I ordered him, �Your hands up and behind your head, slowly step into the light and don�t make any sudden movements, or I will shoot.�
�Shit, Christian what�s your problem?�
A woman? A familiar sounding one� then it struck me who I was talking to. I locked my gun and placed it back into the inside pocket of my jacket. I turned around and started walking towards the elevator. I didn�t want to talk to her�
�Christian, it�s been 3 years and I thought that you would�ve matured since then! I was hoping that we could talk like adults.�
I stopped for a few seconds and my hands hurt since they were balled into fists.
�What�s more to talk about Diane?�
�Christian!�
�I�m late, if you want to talk, talk to me later.�
I started walking away and when I went into the elevator, I heard her say in a small voice, �I�ve put this off since 3 years ago�� The door closed and I was hoping that would be the last time I�d ever see her.
When the elevator doors opened I abruptly jumped back and hit the wall.
�Tourist! You are fucking 2 hours late and I don�t like tardiness in my team. Get the fuck into my office and for Christ�s sake, go to the Laundromat once in a while. Have you been drinking?�
�No sir.� Have I? I couldn�t remember.
That was one thing a guy didn�t need to see in the morning. I don�t know if Chuck had been waiting at that elevator since he had called or if he was just psychic.
He was also the type of guy who just didn�t give a shit when he insulted someone. I looked at my shirt and saw a few stains I had never noticed before. My demented mind led me to believe that some of the darker stains on my shirt were blood stains. I forced a weak laugh and walked towards Ander�s office. I walked into the shit hole he called an office and I felt like gagging. His office was a dark and dingy room; it didn�t have color, nice furniture or matching curtains. Have I been watching Martha Stewart at night? Whatever. The room had a distinct odor of cigar smoke and body odor. I didn�t do the laundry often but at least I use underarm deodorant.
The door slammed behind me and I winced. I heard Chuck�s heavy footsteps behind me. He put his hands on my shoulders and forced me to sit down in the brown leather chair in front of his desk. The chair was beat and worn down. Chuck was no handyman. Tape must�ve been his solution to everything. It was a squeak when I sat down and the air from the inner cushions made its way out through the rips that Chuck had failed to fix.
Chuck took his place behind the fake oak desk and sat down. I let myself slouch in the chair and my hands gripped the chair arms. Chuck glared at me and shook his head.
�I don�t know what the hell is wrong with you. You know you need a fucking job to live but it�s like you�re trying to get yourself fired.�
I frowned but I kept silent. Chuck didn�t like being interrupted while he was lashing out at someone.
�You�re a fine fucking agent, a good investigator. What you�re lacking is a good pair of balls! I remember your cases back then, all the ones you�ve fucking solved. I was almost proud to have you on my team. Tourist you�ve got to shape up or find yourself another job. Look at you, you smell like a drunk bum and you look like one. You�re the shit in a box of chocolates. I hate the way shit looks and smells.�
I swear I could feel the fake leather on the arms of this chair being punctured by my nails. I was being compared to a turd. I forced myself to loosen my grip. My fingers were starting to hurt.
�You get what I mean you piece of shit?�
�Yes sir.� Fuck� You�
�You�re a fucking two hours behind schedule.�
�Excuse me sir!� I almost jumped at the new voice. I looked around but could find no one. Who the hell was that?
�Seamus, what did I tell you about knocking?�
I whipped my head around and saw Jesse standing by the door holding a clipboard to his chest. He looked so small. That was the type of guy he was. He was so thin you�d think his mother wanted to starve him to death. I scoffed seeing his freshly pressed shirt and khaki pants. His shoes were so shiny they could be seen from a mile away. Was this the guy Chuck wanted me to be?
�I�m sorry sir but I�m sure a great man like you would like to hear about this news!�
�I don�t, get the fuck out of here.�
I watched Seamus cower away, shutting the door softly behind him. I returned my attention to an even more agitated Chuck.
"Apparently I can't afford to pay most of the dicks working here. I can't stand seeing your face another second longer. Take this case file and get out of here," Chuck scowled and passed me a beige folder. I accepted and left his office.
I walked out, staring at the folder in my hand, and made my way to the men's room. I then looked at myself in the mirror. Chuck was right about my appearance... but I didn't really give a damn. I wanted to keep the job.. no, I had to keep it. There wasn't much any other way I could pay for the apartment and the bills.
I turned on the faucet that was covered with some unknown stain; letting the cold water run over my hands. I splashed it against my face and grabbed a paper towel; leaving the faucet on. I heard the door open but I didn't bother turning around. I wiped my face dry and then my hands, wadding the used towel up into a ball and getting a three-pointer into the garbage.
I heard a scoff from behind me and I turned around. Seamus walked over to me and raised his eyebrow.
"You call yourself an agent? Playing little games like that all day? You're pathetic."
I stared at Seamus, a long prolonged glance and just laughed at him. He was the one calling ME pathetic? What a joke. I walked past him still laughing hard... that is until I bumped into her again, Diane.
I pushed her out of the way and forced my way through trying to get to the elevator. That was as easy as getting rid of gum in your hair. I was met with a hard slap, it stung but I wouldn't let her know it, I stared at her again.
"Why won't you talk to me?" she asked me, as if she didn't know...
"I think you know why Diane. I don't know why you're back here just to grill me about it. It's over now, isn't that what you said to me?" I replied with a bitterness that touched the tip of my tongue as the words rolled out. I tried to straighten my face and make it look like I wasn't upset... but I was. I didn't want to see her pretty face again. Her flaming red hair flattered her blue eyes, an ocean of blue that I'd love to take a swim in... that I have so many times already, only to be found drowning in the midst of it. That ocean of blue was the collection of happiness she'd taken away from me. She left me with nothing and she still wanted more.
"Please Chris! Don't do this to me."
"I didn't do anything to you - you left me on your own, no, with that other fuck you met. Diane, I don't EVER want to see you again. I don't care what you have to say, you're with him now aren't you? You LOVE him, you loved him so much that you... you left me on our wedding night! And you think I'd be able to look at you again? Diane, please go. Stop kicking me when I'm down."
I realized I had left the folder in the washroom. I didn't let my ex finish anything she said, I just went in. It seemed like the men's room was my only solace from her... but Seamus was in there. I quickly grabbed the folder and realized that Diane had followed me in. Seamus yelped and tried to cover himself, only to leave a few spots of wetness on his khakis. I turned my attention back to Diane and sighed.
"Isn't there any way I can get away from you?"
"Only if you hear me out Chrissy."
"Don't call me that."
Seamus butted in to our conversation, a deep, personal one. My mood wasn't much improved.
"Excuse me! This is the men's room, M-E-N MEN's room, take your drama outside!"
Diane glared at him, I watched Seamus cower, her feistiness turned me on but I wouldn't let her know that.
"Personally, you little geek, I don't give a shit where this is. If you need to piss then go the hell ahead! Otherwise, get out." She smiled, a mock smile, that'd make your heart bleed. Seamus took a look at her, then to me, and left quickly.
"You've got my time, now say what you want to say Diane. I just hope you won't waste my time like you did when we were together."
"A WASTE OF TIME?!" Diane seemed appalled. Her wide angry eyes scared me a bit but I stood tall and firm. I'd seen this look many times and I knew I was in the ride of my life. "How can you say that about us? We were in love!"
"Diane, you left me for some other prick on the day we were supposed to be married! You cheated on me with him. I thought I fell in love with a perfect woman... but I fell for a cheap slut."
She slapped me again and I kept my mouth shut. It was hard when my teeth were gritted. It almost feels like the inside of my mouth was bleeding. I wasn't having a good day and I know that there's no way it's going to get better. I stared at her hard and tightened my grip on the folder in my hand.
�It�s true isn�t it? I loved you Diane. I guess you didn�t give a shit about me.� I laughed a hard laugh and stared at the mirror. My cheek was red from the slaps I received.
�Chris, you�re wrong. I do love you.�
�Then why�d you leave?�
�I went with Ben because I was convinced that I loved him too. So many things were happening between us Christian; I didn�t think it would work out. You were never there when I needed you. You were always too busy working and when you got home you were always too tired or� or too traumatized to do anything with me. I felt like I was growing farther and farther away from you. And then, I met Ben� He made me feel wanted and needed. Not like you baby.� �I had to do it, my job; I had to get money from somewhere! To pay for everything, the wedding, the house��
�Christian. I was wrong to leave you.�
�What are you saying?�
�I want to be with you again.�
�And what about Ben?�
�I left him.�
�Like you did me. Good bye Diane.�
I walked out of the room and broke into a jog; my footsteps were muffled by the gray carpet, trying to reach the elevator. I had to get out of there. I mean it when I say that I don�t ever want to see her again.
I stopped when I got into the gray box and I pushed the button. I didn�t pay much attention to anything else besides the doorway. I was making sure that Diane wasn�t following me but I had a feeling she�d find me again somehow. She always did.
�C-c-��
I turned my head around in surprise. I looked down and saw a little girl bleeding before my eyes. My eyes widened and I knew it because I felt so much strain. I wanted to shut my eyes and wake up from my dream but I couldn�t. I looked at her, once a beautiful blond little girl now naked, armless, legless and dying before my eyes. I felt sick and I reached for the emergency phone. �Yes sir, can I help you?�
�Get an ambulance to�� I glanced up at the lighting numbers and pushed the closest floor. �The third floor quickly! We�ve got a little girl bleeding profoundly from the arms and legs� and mouth.� I hung up and looked at her as the elevator slowed to a stop. I got out and screamed at the top of my lungs. �Someone get help!�
I sat there in the lobby, slouched and looking at the ground, wanting to die, wanting to never wake up. I wished that it had all been a dream. I thought that my day couldn�t get any worse and now� I had to watch a little girl die right before my eyes. I remembered her cold blue eyes staring up at me pleading for help. Her cheeks were wet from tears that she�d cry and she lay there like a sack of potatoes. I remember kneeling down to help her; I tried to stop the bleeding but her injuries were too great. The ambulance came a few minutes too late. She lapsed into unconsciousness and I stared at her. There had been a few others around me, trying to aid that young little girl, but� but there was nothing we could do. Her cheeks were badly bruised and I later realized that she didn�t have a tongue. Whatever son-of-a-bitch did this took the proper precautions to disallow her legitimacy as a witness against himself. I wanted to find the bastard and put him in his place. That little girl was innocent, she couldn�t have been anymore than 7 years old, and she didn�t deserve this.
When the ambulance came I forced myself away from them. I wanted to hurt them for being late. She could�ve survived, she was still breathing, and she might�ve had another chance to make it through life. I watched a little girl bleed to her death just because of some sadistic bastard and slow paramedics. And I still here on the brown lounge chairs of the lobby, resting my head on my hand, my elbow propped on the arms. My jacket was on the chair next to me. I was covered in blood, I know I�d miss some spots on my arms, but I didn�t give a shit.
�Where�s my baby?!� I heard a woman scream. Just great, the mother of that poor child�s here now, wants to see her dear daughter. I don�t think she�s going to enjoy what she�s about to see. I forced myself to stand and walk over to the hysterical woman. I showed her my badge, the detective badge I had in my pocket.
�Ma�am.�
�Where�s my baby? I need to see her! Is she okay?�
�Calm damn ma�am.� I offered her my hand and she accepted. I took her to the lounge chairs and I caught her looking at my bloodied shirt. I requested that she sit and that advice would be important for the news I was about to give. I stared at her but a few seconds but realized that I had to turn away. Her daughter was a striking image of her mother. Blond hair, light complexion, except her mother had gray eyes and the extreme pain and sadness behind those eyes was overbearing. I sighed and sat down beside her.
�Where�s your husband?�
�H-He�s at work but I called him and told him to come here ASAP. What happened to my daughter? Please tell me� I just want to know if Lily�s okay or not.�
�Mrs.�?�
�Mackenzie.�
�Mrs. Mackenzie, I�m sorry��
�S-sorry? You can�t mean that�� She broke off in mid sentence; her eyes were now a river of pain and sorrow that no one but a loving mother could extract. She brought her hands up to her eyes and I saw that she�d worked hard all of her life - to provide for Lily� I placed a hand on Mrs. Mackenzie�s shoulder and she wrapped her arms around me, wanting to find shelter from all the pain a few minutes could bring her. I held her tightly and I let her cry, I let those tears wet my shirt, the warmth of a recently broken heart burned my skin and I almost winced.
Being an FBI investigating homicides and serial murders was just as hard being a detective who has to tell a family bad news. They both hurt and they both left deep scars. I wanted to quit the first time I did this but Diane made me stay. She told me to provide for the baby that never existed. Not like this woman�s baby, the love of her life, torn from her arms. This was worse than any other crime I have ever witnessed and I could cry right along with this woman. I lifted up my head and saw a man, chestnut colored hair and blue eyes. He was wearing a business suit and carrying a briefcase. He was disoriented and I assumed that he was Lily�s father. He was built but tired looking. He seemed the type to stay late nights at the office unable to come to birthday parties and ballet recitals. I guess he didn�t think that those days could be the last he ever saw of his child. He saw his wife and me standing here and he rushed over almost stumbling over his own feet.
�Beverly! Bev! What�s wrong? What happened?� He stared at her wild-eyed and distressed.
I let go of Beverly and let her husband take over.
�Oh Paul!� She whimpered and clung onto him for dear life.
I gave the floor a sideways glance.
�Paul, its Lily. She�s� She�s�� She broke off again and I saw Paul grasp onto his wife just as tightly. He had known the situation before she has finished explaining. He looked at me to verify and I couldn�t stare at him for long. They both had heartrending expression in their eyes. It kept reminding me of her.
�I�m sorry Mr. Mackenzie, your daughter was found in the elevator, bleeding from the arms, legs and mouth.�
�What happened to her?�
�We haven�t yet found the cause to her injuries. We have reason to believe that Lily was murdered.�
Paul�s face turned bright red in rage and he gripped his wife tightly. I hoped that he wasn�t hurting her in his anguish. He stayed silent and I thought that this would be a good time to leave.
�My condolences to the both of you.� I picked up my jacket and made my way across the growing crowd of onlookers. And there she was, waiting for me, her eyes welling up. �Diane��
�I�m sorry Christian, I know you told me to leave but��
I didn�t let her finish. I wasn�t angry at her anymore. �You don�t have to if you don�t want to. I�m tired of arguing.� I walked by her with my jacket slung over my shoulder. I caught a dark stare coming from Chuck and Jesse. I didn�t know what came over me but I immediately brought up my hand and gave them the finger. I shut the door behind me and walked slowly into the garage. I heard a familiar sound of echoing footsteps. I took a few slow and quiet steps forward. The running ceased and I looked around the dimness of the parking lot. I rested my hand on the hilt of my gun and I took several more excruciating slow steps forward. Something didn�t seem right and I felt it deep inside myself. And I felt something else as I lurched forward from the force that hit me. My back stung and I forced myself to turn around, pointing my gun straight ahead.
I almost choked when I saw him. I completely froze and stared at Hagen with wide eyes, eyes that were full of fear, horror and confusion. Hagen was dead but here I was staring straight at him. Or was I? At that instant he disappeared. I could hear myself breathing heavily. Silence again. Then it hit my again and I hit the pillar beside me and again I was being slashed at. I was hit twice in the back and barely missed one to my stomach. I had been counting and fired two shots into the darkness, only to have the rusted blade skim across the top of my hand. I dropped my gun and hopped backwards to defend myself against the next few attacks. In the darkness I had no chance of finding my gun with a knife wielding maniac on my back. It wasn�t Hagen; his face has changed but still shadowed by the hood he was wearing. He struck my thigh and that�s when I fell, that�s when I lost the only chance of sure survival, and I stared at the knife coming down on me. And I heard it, the creaking of the door, the sound that halted the blade�s movement towards me. My attacker stared at the door and took off into the darkness. I can still hear his fading footsteps. I sat there, grasping my bleeding hand, and staring straight at the direction the attacker went. I couldn�t think straight anymore. All I could do was sit there looking like an idiot while Anders walked towards me.
�What the fuck happened, Tourist?� He slowly walked over. �I heard gunshots.� That must�ve been when he saw me and the cuts on my body. �Holy shit! What the hell happened to you?� He looked around and shouted out. �Paramedic!� He then ran back towards the door.
I tried to get up then but I realized that the cut on my thigh was too deep for me to stand comfortably. I tried to find something to pull myself up and along the ground I found my gun. Too late for that�
"to be continued...some time"
