My Neighbour - The serial killer

A short story about a man becoming a serial killer out of curiosity.

 

What if I told you that we are all serial killers? You,  me, your father or even a daughter of your friend, who is still in the womb. An unborn serial killer. Just waiting for a trigger that would free us of our Morals, send us to the hell without dying. What if I told you that your first door neighbor was a serial killer? Would you even consider the possibility? I did not. Everyone has a potential to be a serial killer, an excellent killer, if one is smart enough to be able to clean the mess he made while smashing their victims with a hammer. The urge to take someone’s life is a very powerful one and can be as addictive as alcohol or drugs. The urge you have after you take one’s life for the first time. Without any motive. Just out of curiosity.

Walter Simpson was a simple man. Every time I saw him he would greet me with the kindest words. He and his wife, Martha were living next to my house since they moved here, in Brilington. They always seemed friendly and kind and never have I heard any noise from their home. Walter was a librarian in the Brilington’s town library, in which i rarely went. I just knew that he loved books and he enjoyed his job. Martha was a teacher at Elementary school. With her tremendous glasses she looked like a typical school teacher. Walter also wore glasses, and whenever I saw them together, it looked like they belong together. His brown eyes always gave the soothing vibration which made me respect him even more. Never in my life had I thought that my neighbor Walter would be a serial killer.

            My last patient for the day just left and I thought I would drink a cup of tea. I always need it after I listen to the painful stories of people who walk through my door every day and share their secrets, their life. In cold winter days, I love to drink anything warm and through the window watch kids making snow sculptures, worrying about it melting. Careless children, who will probably never know the truth about their loving neighbor Walter. He walked by them without even looking. That seemed rather peculiar, but I thought it may be a bad day for him, after all, we all have them. He turned and was walking straight to my door. I was not particularly surprised, most of my neighbors come to me when they have a problem, after all I am a therapist. I noticed his knocking was very aggressive. I rushed to open the door, spilling my tea on the carpet. I needed that tea.. There he was, standing sturdily with his hand in his pockets. He wasn’t wearing his usual clothes. Brown pants and a white and blue striped shirt, tucked in. Now, all he had was an unzipped dark jacket covering his thin undershirt and a pair of pajamas. It was obscure. Then he muttered that he needed to tell me his story.

He was freezing so I made us some hot chocolate. I remembered he loved them one time he and his wife came to my place for dinner. What a lovely dinner it was. I learned then, that his wife and him were going to have a little Simpson in their family. I also gave him a shirt to wear. My house is not ideally warm during the winter. My favorite shirt was falling from his shoulders because he was quite shorter than me. I felt a bit weird watching someone else wearing my shirt. I don’t like giving my clothes to other people. After he drank the whole cup of hot chocolate, rather quick, he asked me if he could tell me his story. Walter also mentioned that the story should be kept between us two only and made  me promise I would not tell anyone what he will tell me. If only I knew what I was getting into. He started talking.

’’You know, Matthew, I am not that adventures kind of a person. I love my wife, my job, and my books and always wanted a peaceful life. And I got one. You know Martha and I are waiting for our baby. I was truly happy. And then, it happened.’’

            I was listening to him carefully, to the point where i saw his facial expressions telling me in what state he was. He was wretched. I got up and sat closer to him, ne needed to see I cared. ’’It was just an ordinary day at my job. Not a lot of people were coming, I was just alone with my books. Oh how I love books. Did I ever tell you what my favorite book is? It is The Stranger by Albert Camus. You know why? I do not know. I never understood why, but even though I don’t relate to the main character, he always fascinated me. I love the way he thinks. I must have read it a hundred times. Have you, Matthew? Surely you did, I can see it in your eyes. Everyone has the same eyes thinking about that masterpiece. You know what that book made me do, Matthew? It made me a serial killer.’’ I couldn’t believe my ears. And I did not. He cannot be serious. Someone rang a bell at the same time. I couldn’t find him serious so I said to him, I will be back as soon as I see who is ringing. One of the children who had been playing in snow wanted a glass of warm milk. I felt guilty because I had previously used all my milk for the hot chocolates. The little boy was a bit sad, but after I explained to him that Mister Walter is not feeling well and that I gave him milk to make him feel better, he smiled and wished all his best to the man sitting calmly in my living room. I rushed to the room where Walter was and almost fell down when I saw it. He was holding a gun, firmly in his left hand, pointed at his chin. I really couldn’t say anything. Walter continued to talk without even looking at me. ’’I guess you didn’t take me seriously earlier, Matthew. I truly became a serial killer. I don’t know what to do now, I am desperate...’’ He stared at the gun for a moment, silently and then he smiled at me, dreadfully and continued. ’’I don’t know where to start. I guess I can say, I was curious. I was curious what it was like to take someone’s life. I wanted to know if I would like it. You know the power of controlling one’s fate. And I don’t even know how I got where I am now. It seems I like it...Matthew; I want to be completely honest with you. I believe it was the book. The book made me a serial killer. Meursault was my favorite fictional character, and after so many years, he became a part of me. His calm and sociopathic nature made me unaware of the wish I had. I wished to kill a person. Maybe i mentioned you, my interests in crime novels during my years as a college student.  I knew everything about how to kill someone, cover up the track, getting rid of the body, you name it. It was all there, guides on how to become a good killer, on the plain sight, waiting for someone who will use that knowledge. And I did, Matthew. Oh, the first time I killed a person. Do you remember the news about a body they found at the bottom of the river few months ago? Yeah, you guessed it, I did it.’’ At this point, I was still now aware that I was listening to a serial killer. He was my calm neighbor Walter, talking about some nonsense after a rough night. How I was wrong.. ’’I carefully followed him for days. He was one of the parents whose children were my wife’s students. I did not know him well, however he was always annoying to me, so I guess I had a motive to kill him. After all, I wanted to feel the need to take his life, not just do it randomly. Oh, how It felt good. I can still hear his scream while I was cutting him. It was personal to me. So I was saying, I followed him for a while. There was just a problem with kidnaping him. He was always with someone. And so I waited for an opportunity. He lived near the library so I saw him even when I was working. And I got lucky. He came into the library one day, which I was not expecting. However I was prepared. In my back packet I held a sleeping pill. Since we knew each other it was easy for me to offer him a cup of tea. He kindly accepted it so I took the pills and broke them, put them in his tea and just waited. Sometime after, I was looking at a sleeping body, waiting for me to do what I want with it. My only problem was, and still is my body. I am a very week person. I didn’t think about how would take him to my car all by myself. I managed somehow to drag him through the back door of the library and put him in the truck of my car, got my backpack and drove away to the old abandoned factory.’’ Am I listening to the confession of a serious murderer? Have I been blind the whole time? I looked at his brown eyes to seek for confirmation. Walter was not wearing his glasses this time. His brown eyes were clear as sun, with a tear coming down his left cheek. He was occasionally touching his cheek with his gun, which was scary because his finger was on the trigger. ’’ I didn’t mention. Besides crime novels, I love reading books about human anatomy. I was always interested in how our body work, so I used the opportunity to read all about it in the library. How come I never see you there? Do you read, Matthew? You should, it can really help, as you can see. I had previously set all the things I need there. I little isolated room made of tent wings and foil. You can easily clean when you’re done and burn the rest. The factory is not that close to the town so it wasn’t the problem if a little smoke was seeing. I thought about how I should kill my first victim for a lot of time. I wanted to feel something, and if I had shot him with this gun, it wouldn’t give me any emotion. So I decided to use a knife. After i taped him to the desk, it passed a few hours and he woke up. Seeing me, he started screaming my name and some other words. I just heard my name. Walter, Walter, Walter, Walter..... He was calling me, he wanted me to kill him, I felt it. And there is was, holding my kitchen knife, which i had previously bought for my wife. She wasn’t using it so I knew she wouldn’t see if it was gone. It was a quite a big knife. And a very sharp one, I should know. I got tired listening to his constant screaming, so I cut his tongue.’’ What? He cut his tongue? What kind a person is Walter? Have I been living next to a psychopath and never noticed it? If I hadn’t taken the sip of that hot chocolate that was now cold, I would have fainted. I didn’t think that this man, sitting in front of me would be such a person. But, he was.....’’It felt great, Matthew, he was helpless. I was holding his tongue in my hands, blood was pouring on my fingers. I felt power. I had the power. I had the control. What do you think, how did I end up killing him?’’ I just stared, my mouth was shut and wouldn’t open for what seemed like forever. ’’Ahaahah, oh, I must have scared you. I didn’t mean to do it, but I can see how this is a shock to you. It was to my wife as well. That’s why she left me...But, I’ll come to that part later. Right now, I want you to know how I felt right when I sliced his hand. It was gorgeous..’’ He continued talking about his first killing like he has done a great moral act rather than taking away someone’s life. I couldn’t listen to him anymore. I stopped listening to him when i heard that his wife left him. I haven’t thought about her at all, what she was going through, she and the baby. Innocent woman, not knowing what her husband was all along. Where could she have gone? I really hoped she was not harmed. His state was bad, I can only imagine what he could do to her. What should I do? ’’And that, my dear neighbor Matthew, was my first experience. It was like a dream coming true. Dream that I never dreamt, a lovely unconscious part of my imagination. I was like Alex describes Beethoven’s 9th in Clockwork Orange. I finally understood how he felt. Oh bliss! Bliss and heaven! Oh, it was gorgeousness and gorgeousity made flash. It was like a bird of rarest-spun heaven metal or like silvery wine flowing in spaceship, gravity all nonsense now. As I slooshied, I knew such lovely picture. Trust me, Matthew, my life changed. I started feeling again, I started feeling alive.’’  I won’t tell you about all the murders I’ve committed during this few months. I know it’s a lot to take in, my dear friend. But I trust you won’t tell anyone, that would end badly.’’ His gun was scaring me. I was making a plan to take his gun away from him, he was unstable, at least. I thought I’d ask him if he had finished his hot chocolate. When I would take the cup, I would also take the gun from his hand. During the time, it seemed like a good idea. But, i decided to wait, he was just about to tell me what happened to his wife. ’’Do you remember, Matthew, when something very nice happened to you and you wanted to share it with someone special to you? I’m sure you do. I felt the same way. My wife needed to know, I wanted to introduce her to my hobby, and maybe she would join me. At that point, I already killed another 5 or 6 people. You surely remember, they were all on the news at some point. We were having dinner. It was our anniversary. Oh, if only she would appreciate my surprise. But no, she started crying. She didn’t believe me. Then I told her everything. Even my plan to include her.’’ He started shouting, cursing his wife’s name, unhappy about her leaving. I wanted to know if she had really left, or he killed her as well. ’’She left me then, Matthew. She left me and I was helpless. How could I do something to her? She was the love of my life. I couldn’t stop her, I just couldn’t.’’ His tears were now all over my floor, as the new snow was falling. The children were happily cheering and he just sat there, wiping his tears with his gun. I felt a bit better, knowing he had not killed his wife too. I thought it was  the right moment for me to take his gun. I walked slowly towards him and while he seemed uninterested in my actions, after I took the cup, he pointed the gun at me. I just stood there silently. His hand was shaking, finger barely hanging on the trigger, he was also scared. ’’I thrust you, man, you won’t tell anyone? I can’t expect that something bad happens to my family, they don’t deserve to be threated bad because of my actions.’’ I backed off a bit, with my hands in the air. I never was in such a situation where a gun was pointed at me. ’’Matthey, please try to find my wife, she needs help with my child. We wanted to call her Annabel. Oh, I will never see Annabel. Isn’t that a shame? Just so you know, I never killed a child. I just couldn’t. It wasn’t something that would complete me. And even though I didn’t have the motive for most of my victims, I did it gladly. Oh, how I enjoyed it, Matt. I really did. But this morning. This morning when I woke up. I realized something. I wasn’t complete. I stopped feeling alive. The part of me that used to be here... She left... And now, it isn’t enough. I don’t want to kill anymore. If she is not here to support me, how can I live with myself? With what I had done. I killed people, Matt. I killed them and I loved it. What does that make me? A piece of s**t, that’s what.’’ He held his gun firmly, but now it was not pointed at me, he turned it towards himself. No, I can stop this somehow. He can’t kill himself, I won’t allow it! As I rushed towards him, he muttered his last words.’’

It was as if that great rush of anger had washed me clean, emptied me of hope, and, gazing up at the dark sky spangled with its signs and stars, for the first time, the first, I laid my heart open to the benign indifference of the universe. To feel it so like myself, indeed, so brotherly, made me realize that I'd been happy, and that I was happy still. For all to be accomplished, for me to feel less lonely, all that remained to hope was that on the day of my execution there should be a huge crowd of spectators and that they should greet me with howls of execration.

Oh, how I love this book. Take care of my wife and daughter, Matt, I am counting on you.’’

’’Walter, Walter, Walter, Walter...’’ I felt the jolt of fear and terror as I woke up this night. His secret is still safe with me. I couldn’t let anything happen to Martha and Annabel. It has been four months since he shot himself. I may be a therapist, a good one I believe, but one cannot forget a terrible suicide at his bare sight. I cannot take it anymore. I need to get him out of my dreams, out of my life. What happened that day changed me forever. Confession of a serial killer at my chest, my burden forever. I can only deal with this problem in one way. I will leave some of my fears on this piece of paper and hopefully forget that my neighbor, Walter Simpson, ever existed.

 

Luka Krstić                                          12.1.2017.