Shadows open their mouths. A cry drowns after black hand savagely carnivorous springs from the womb of darkness. The reflection sheet of white soul lies gun. The meat yield. Lets himself be killed without a fight, almost uncontrollable disgust at the violence of the knife, which is made by step, slowly, as if respectfully requests permission. The shreds of clothing calm the crater of the wound, while the knife is fired with his cold lips of his beloved meat. Blood is tremulous, confused as the victim. Death, however, is old and therefore patient. Witness expects the arm that wields the weapon recite the finishing touches of his art. Biting the gloved hand, covered with saliva and fear is removed once you get to tame the last throes. The lifeless body searches earth craves rest. Representing the final scene of a choreography falls majestically, with a hint of arrogance. Infinitely spreads the floor. Intends to cover it completely in their last embrace. It is an island that is being devoured by blood incontinence capricious proceeding without a guardian. The sticky sweetness that comes from the wound conquer every inch of the dense atmosphere that surrounds the scene. A last look is to ensure that have not lost any of the gear. Have just passed a handful of seconds. Not a single moan to reproach. A few steps away monotone that will be devoured by the jaws of the newly installed dictatorship of silence. †
Dar death does not in all cases take life. My occupation is similar to the silent official who met with his office, surrounded by endless documents, without ever arise mediate their course. My work, therefore, is to start. The victim chooses randomly, lazy puts in my path. Mature woman's body that carries bags, body distracted old man stops at a shop, disoriented child's body. There is no discrimination, the east wind that previously my intention. Are simply sets of bones, muscles, tendons, organs and skin, with the only difference to those who crowd the cemeteries, which break down more slowly. Their bodies are devoid of history and therefore lifeless. There is life after me with the light reaching the succession of miseries, hobbies, fears, scars vital to drag a body. It is from then, when to death could be considered a murder. Ever before. At the end of the day, to death is only the office which is more extensive chronology.
Sometimes, in the serenity radiating walls of the house, dropped the look in the mirror, hoping to find the dark face of a murderer, the merciless gaze of the bearer of death, remnants of that scraggly beard that stigmatizes for the landless. Perhaps a glimpse of a regret, something similar to the anxiety to permeate the depths of my heart like a black hole whose cry is impossible to calm. It is what it should. Instead, the image that I spit the mirror is a priori disappointing. I can only find bits and pieces gray in my life, as the life of a nobody. Without doubt, a one more. Nevertheless, a dispassionate view and separate from the romance of my work, it should comfort me find this image of mediocre man, the one who could swim in the calm, gray waters of the crowd. I knew I was outside the archetypal profile of the murderer makes it clear that the only fault that I face is that it is to get orders to advance the clock time of my victims. My creed is the confirmation that never needed. These bodies will continue swarming after me in that anything to which they belong irretrievably.
My fear of the police is the student to the teacher who examines the same test over and over again. I have come to limit my concern to take care to leave any evidence hidden that would prove my involvement in the death of one of my victims. Because of my long career, I have found that police inquiries are strictly procedural, rude hand, tour guides from the scene of a crime. Researchers are directed, as beasts unable to get rid of your blinders, the social circle that includes family and those closest to the body. A co-worker, a lover, a neighbor, a partner, all we have stored in the back of the freezer several reasons for wanting to see the neighbor uncovered rot ground and moss. The Hound is directed to mobile forces them to act and to violate their own moral principles. Sometimes, the very passion with which you run the assassination is the main port on the filter the incriminating evidence. A shaking hand, a knife that is lost in the viscera, a cruelty that continues to consume the time limit with which we, an angry cry alerting a neighbor. There are few occasions when a petty thief, indomitable nerve dam or to a sudden noise, completes its work, leaving his victim badly injured in his impetuous flight. Instead, newcomers to the art frequently incurred in the simulation of theft camouflage as a means of reliable mobile crime, without notice, that in turn, expose the expert eye a series of tests that could be considered absolutely irrefutable.
If the relevant researchers fail to reach a mobile encounter fairly accurate, therefore, almost flying blind, the modus operandi of the murderer. Achieve your layout can provide recognizable elements in the form of action, and also reach out to separate some straw, to achieve, thus potentially intensify research on any of the suspects have been identified previously. However, to get close to the executor must find, at least one test to facilitate the relationship involvement, failure of that system has to be pluperfect death. And then, when you reach the desired final piece of the puzzle. In the last lesson of perfect manual when the researcher is now involved in naming names and collapses trying to get rid of that relic that the company is performing gun. Thus facilitating, innocent, the work of police attack dogs. That is what might be called a job well done, well that certainly deserves the pat on the shoulder of his superior.
In my case there is no moving to channel criminal action. My order is limited to a number of victims unknown fate puts my disposal. As you doctor, who in his first visit, create a medical history while typing absorbed, leaving a glimpse into the pockets of his tired eyes, a hint of revulsion at the revelation that makes a patient, devoid of any psychiatric condition and whose name, by now, must be presumed to be fictitious. Like you, doctor.
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