Mea Culpa

By Isaiah Nickerson

The flash of a camera lit up the cathedral walls. The old bones of this rugged chapel were swarmed by the navy blue coats of federal investigators. A man died last night.

“What a mess. What happened to him?” Inquired chief inspector Signore to his fellow officers. An officer states the blunt truth; this death was not natural. Aition Hunapo, his prized forensic analyst responds with the details; “He appears to have been drained of his blood prior to his carotid artery; his left femur broken and a large fracture in his….”

The analyst’s words trailed off in his mind as he mindlessly spouted out information along to his superior. He knew exactly what happened: He knew the murdered man had seen something he shouldn’t have. He knew that he was being pursued; that he ran until his left leg was struck with a tire iron. He knew that he would attempt to crawl away, and he knew that he would not succeed. He knew that no one was watching as he dragged his broken body into the trunk of his black Fiat 500 just as no one would see as he slit the witness’s throat upon the docks of Lake Lugano. He knew what happened that night, and no one else needed to. He would only state the obvious; enough for them to get an idea on what may have happened, but nothing more than an idea. It would be done as it had been done many times before, and no one would suspect. This he knew. 

His superior nodded at his anatomical findings before a man in a suit whisked him away. Aition finished the proper paperwork, and gathered his things. As he neared the dark ivory doors leading out into the world beyond, a firm hand touched his back. A well dressed, tall man with short, dark hair locked eyes with him for seven seconds; his heated emerald gaze looking past the foggy blue of Aition’s. Just as quickly as he appeared, he turned to leave as Aition stumbled backwards into the door. Cold ivory gave way from the cathedral to the night stained world beyond, as Aition picked himself off the stony ground and briskly strode to the door of his automobile. The key entered the door with a click, before it was flung open with haste. Aition’s mask slipped through a sigh, as his key entered the ignition. “Where are we going tonight?” A voice came from the back seat. The tall man locked eyes with him once more. Without acknowledging him, he drove off into the night. 

Arriving at his apartment, he hurriedly exited the car. Beads of sweat dripped down his neck as he quickly walked the route back to the apartment. After arriving at the apartment, he unlocked it using his key. When he entered, he saw a familiar face seated at the kitchen counter. “The door was locked, so I just let myself in. I hope you don’t mind,” said the tall man. Aition hurriedly looked through the house, scrambling over papers and photographs. “Looking for something? If you’re looking for them, I believe you’ll find them where you last saw them.” Aition collected his thoughts, and opened the air vent to lift out a wooden box. A smirk of relief briefly passed over his face as he looked over the eight photographs of those he’d dealt with in the past; their expressionless visages laid bare before the telephoto lens. After tenderly rifling through each photo, he placed at its top his latest acquisition, before slamming the lid shut. He returned to the kitchen alone, and after pouring himself a glass of white wine, he retired to his room. Sight was enveloped by darkness as his eyes slowly closed. 

“Good morning.” The tall, well dressed man coldly stated. Aition’s eyes fluttered open as two emeralds looked past his flesh and bone. In turn, Aition spotted a red smile on the man; not of the traditional sort, but a scar adorning his neck, constantly dripping blood on his white dress shirt worn below. “I figured you’ve slept long enough, so do pardon my intrusion.” Aition sprung from his bed and lumbered toward the box in the wall. “It’s as you left it,” the tall man said from the other room. Indeed, each photo was where it should be, albeit, with a deep smile etched into each face. Aition slammed the lid shut, but to his surprise, the man did not disappear. “I’m afraid that you won’t be getting rid of me that easily. Now, if you have a moment, I’d say we’ve got some business to attend to.” Aition slowly walked toward the door, grabbing his beige overcoat on the way. “You can run from this right now, but you can’t run forever,” the man calmly spoke. No further words were needed for the door to be flung open, as the thuds of boots echoed through the hallway. The door slowly shut, as the tall man watched Aition disappear behind wood and stone.

“You’re late, Mr. Hunapo,” said chief inspector Signore. “What happened to you, you look like you’ve seen a ghost!” Breathing heavily, Aition felt his mask starting to slip. After a deep breath, he fixed its placement. “I do apologise, sir, I had a bad night.” Signore’s eyes reeked of confusion; “A bad night?” “I couldn’t get much sleep last night,” Aition bluntly stated. “Why don’t you just take it out of my paycheck.” “There’s no need for that, you’ve done good work here. Just don’t make this a habit,” Signore defused. A nod of appreciation was followed by rushed footsteps back inside the cathedral where a man was killed two nights ago. As he returned to his work for several minutes, he felt normal again. That is, until he saw a familiar face staring at him from across the room. Emerald eyes only left his gaze to check the time on a silver watch, before locking back onto him. The color drained from Aition’s face, as his eyes widened in shock. His left hand began to tremble as he carelessly flung his things into his satchel. Putting on his coat as he left, eyes watched him as he rushed away from his post; straight into a fellow analyst, who dropped papers and evidence. In his head, Aition apologized, but in truth, he didn’t care in the slightest, as long as he was away from the tall man. 

Perhaps some fresh air would help, he thought to himself as vertical slabs of ivory gave way to the outdoors. As the cold air permeated his lungs, he felt free, as he sprinted away from his troubles. He’d made it far before he had to catch his breath; sweat dripping from his brow. “Isn’t it a lovely day for a run?” The tall man jested. It was no longer shock that covered Aition’s face, but that of guilt and rage. As the tall man turned to leave, he called out; “I’ll meet you at your apartment tonight. If you’re not there, you will be someday. All in time.”

It was later that night when the black Fiat 500 returned to its parking space. Knowing that this was not something he could hide from, Aition slowly stumbled out, toward the place he called home. As his apartment’s door softly opened, he saw two glasses of wine on the table before he locked eyes with his stalker. “Care for a drink?”

The two men sat in Aition’s living room; the city lights bleeding through his large windows. The stranger inquired; “I suppose you know who I am, don’t you? ” Aition nodded. “I figured. Our meeting may have been short by this world’s standards, but it certainly left more than a mark on me. With the pleasantries out of the way, I might inquire: Why did you…well…you know…” Aition responded, unable to meet his gaze: “You were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. I had blood on my face, from disposing of a prior victim, and I thought I saw your eyes glint in my direction. Instinct took over thought…I dared to make a bigger spectacle than I would’ve if you’d lived.” The tall man took a sip of wine. “So you regret it, in some form?” Aition countered: “It was brash…and unnecessary.” The tall man crushed the glass in his hand. “I WAS UNNECESSARY?” “MY LIFE SPENT, ALL FOR A PASSING THOUGHT; FOR YOUR PARANOID DELUSIONS!” FOR WHAT?” He gathered his composure, before continuing. “Forgive my outburst, if you will. So it was nothing personal, it was just the wrong place, and the wrong time. Though, I must inquire; what of them?” The lights in the living room flickered off, before resuming their illuminatory ability. When their light shone, they revealed Aition’s eight prior victims. Eight faces; resting on broken bodies. “Why would you do such a-” Aition cut the tall man off. “BECAUSE I WANTED TO FEEL SOMETHING! ALRIGHT?!” His lip quivered as he tried to pick his mask back up, but it had already shattered on the ground, revealing the pale husk of what’s considered human beneath; Aition’s true face laid bare for nine souls to see. “Love…hate… I was desensitized to it all. I felt nothing until opportunity placed my first in my hands. It was never personal, not even when it first began. He was already dead, he just didn’t know it. Splayed out in the street; a needle in his arm. I figured that if he didn’t die tonight, he would some other night. As the knife returned to my pocket, and his lifeless body slumped in the alleyway, I felt something for once: Satisfaction. Power. Life left his body before my eyes, by my hand. It only got easier from there, but my hunger had grown. More. Bigger. Bloodier. I needed it, for my sake. their lives; not for my pleasure, but just…to feel…feel something…” 

The bloodied bodies let loose a thunderous applause which echoed through the halls of Aition’s home. “We have our answer,” said the tall man, “But that is not all we’ve come for.” Aition questioned; “Have you come to kill me?” “Your life is your own; what you do with it, even now, is entirely your decision.” “Then what am I to do, if not be killed by those who I’ve slaughtered?” The tall man looked him dead in the eyes. “Confession is good for the soul; good for the mind. Let them all see who you really are. It’s the only way you make it out of this. But you knew this already.” Aition stood up; shaking like a leaf; stammering; “...I…I…can’t…” The tall man spat angrily: “You would let us rot in the pits of your memories? In restless sleep for a lifetime?” Aition’s voice, a fraction of what it once was, softly cried out; “...leave…me…alone…” The tall man laughed: “Well, since you asked so nicely! But in all seriousness, we couldn’t do so even if we wanted to. We are a part of you now…you saw to that.” Aition stumbled toward the door as his victims followed him. “Like I told you, you can run…” He grabbed Aition by the throat. “...But you can’t run forever. Not from yourself.” Looking him dead in the eyes, he chuckled. “And don’t you worry; whatever you do…wherever you go…” He dropped Aition as he gasped for air, as the lights started to go out. A final whisper echoed through his head: “..I’ll be with you, every step of the way.” The lights fully went out, and Aition was left alone with his thoughts, letting out a blood-curdling scream of anguish as he reveled in what he’d become.

The flash of a camera lit up the cathedral walls. The old bones of this rugged chapel were swarmed by the navy blue coats of federal investigators. A man died last night.

By Isaiah Nickerson