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I was waiting.

Literally for 1 hour 3 minutes and 34 seconds. Metaphorically? Perhaps my whole life.

I was waiting for him. His apartment smelt like expensive aftershave and cigars. The way it smelt, the way he smells; it makes me feel high.

The silk from my evening gown caressed my skin soft and gentle like his touch. The dress was red; the same deep shade of red as the ruby earrings he had given me only a month ago. I had saved this dress for a worthy occasion. My hair is fixed and my make-up applied so they are nothing less than immaculate, my full lips coloured to match the dress. It had taken me years to reach this level of perfection and it was the perfect evening to reach it, and tonight I am flawless.

I am the girlfriend of a handsome and shrewd businessman, and tonight he will ask me a question I have longed to hear, and I will pause, only a moment to give his heart time to flutter, and then, I will say yes. For now, I am waiting and as I look around the room, I sit there with my chest puffed out and my head held high. Classical music plays softly. The piano sounds tinkle through the room. It is not music I am familiar with, but it is music that someone in my position should listen to. It fits the scene and Aaron will appreciate it. Our backgrounds are different, and he always takes the time to teach me about anything refined. I’m watching the clock, every second that ticks by is a second closer to him returning. Each moment thunders, until of course, the knock at the door comes. Finally. Expecting to see an apologetic Aaron explaining why he was late and why he didn’t have his keys, I’m surprised to be greeted by a police officer.

The officer didn’t explain his presence, he ushered me back into the living room; he sat on the sofa and I followed suit. He was older, worry lines marked his forehead, and the hair at his temples had greyed. He looked like someone’s husband and someone’s father and the weariness in his eyes made a gnawing take root in the pit of my stomach.

I could hear what he was saying. He was as clear as day, but he wasn’t making sense.

“You must be mistaken.”

He repeated himself.

“You’re lying to me.”

His hand reached out and touched mine.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “is there someone you want me to call?”

I snatched my hand away, how dare he touch me. Standing up I grabbed my mobile phone, Aaron would be able to explain, he would tell me this was all a misunderstanding, but Aaron’s phone rang out. I hung up and dialled again, pacing up and down the living room. Pick up, pick up I pleaded, but no one answered. No one answered. This has to be a mistake, the engagement ring is in his draw, and I will be Mrs Aaron Hillingdon. We are going to live happily ever after. He would never let me down like this, not Aaron.

“You’re lying! You’re a liar.”

The police officer took the phone gently from my hand and repeated himself.

“There has been an incident, police and paramedics attended the scene, but it was too late and Aaron has passed away.”

The piano sounds became deep and haunting as if the music could feel the atmosphere shifting. Deep and sombre the score continued. I took a deep breath, and I remember thinking none of this can be true, I can still smell his aftershave. I can still smell his cigars. Then from the eye of the policeman, a glassy lonely tear. I’m shuddering and gasping for air. Soon all I can see is the ceiling, and my head pressed against the cold hard floor. I could hear the officer calling for a doctor on his radio. Somewhere nearby I could hear an animal screaming, like it was being savaged, it sounded like an animal dying a horrific death, an untimely death. Upon reflection I think that animal was me.

2.

“Do you know who DI Rose is?”

DI Rose let out a soft inaudible sigh, she had been resting her eyes when the young uniformed policeman entered her office. She leaned back in her chair stifling a yawn. She had spent hours poring over the Hammer Rock case, praying for a break. The young officer leaned against the door frame. The light from the window made his blonde hair appear golden, combined with his blue eyes he had an innocent cherubic quality to him, none the less DI Rose wondered if spent more time in the gym than he did on the beat.

“I’m DI Rose.”

It was a statement that felt foreign in her mouth, but there was a sweetness to it, like honey in tea. The uniformed officer tried to mask his surprise as he walked over to her desk, and she felt the left side of her mouth creep up, as if it was thinking about chancing a smile.

“Well, DI Rose, I am about to make you very happy.”

She made a concerted effort to stop herself from involuntarily rolling her eyes, she wasn’t successful, and a twinge of guilt raced through her.

“I’ve just arrested The Hammer Rock Killer.”

He was beaming, his grin wide and his teeth sparkling white. DI Rose leapt to her feet knocking a cold half-drunk mug of coffee to the floor. She side-stepped the cup and walked to the door at a brisk pace. She stopped only to question the officer.

“He’s in custody right?”

The officer nodded and followed her into the narrow corridor which would take them to the cells. He began to explain how The Hammer Rock Killer had been caught at the scene, and his DNA was on the body of the victim. She could see the pride radiating off him, and she wondered how many times he had mentally accepted a promotion since he had made the arrest. She thought the officer was a brief distraction not a game changer, and surely anyone with any sense would have started the conversation with I’ve just arrested The Hammer Rock, rather than who is DI Rose? The corridor was already narrow but as she approached the custody block, she felt it closing in on her. Her heart began to loudly beat, hard and fast almost as if it had left her chest and was now sat upon her shoulder, screaming into her ear. The young officer’s boasts became drowned out by the constant bah-dum, bah-dum, bah-dum.

The custody suite was alive with differing levels of protested innocence. The Custody Sergeant was processing the largest man DI Rose had quite possibly ever seen. Six foot by six foot, the man’s neck, which was tattooed with a spider web, seemed to merge into his shoulders, his hair shaved so short, the solitary lightbulb hanging a couple of feet above his head reflected off his skull and into her eyes. She flinched from the glare of the light momentarily, before regaining her composure.

“Is this my guy?”

The huge man smirked as he snarled “I’ll be your guy anytime sweetheart.” He ran his tongue slowly over his lips.

The Custody Sergeant shrugged looking at her blankly.

“Does this suspect require the attention of me, Detective Inspector Rose?”

“I do.” the huge man grinned.

The Custody Sergeant sighed -

“You’re going to have to be clearer.”

“Is this The Hammer Rock Killer?”

The buzz in the custody suite went flat, she could feel people’s ears pricking up. The Hammer Rock Killer had been christened by the media. There wasn’t a person alive who didn’t know about The Hammer Rock Killer, or wondered who was capable of caving in the skulls of innocent men until they no longer looked human. Rose had transferred to this station after the fourth killing to investigate, but even before then she had spent months trying to figure out who The Hammer Rock Killer was.

The huge man who was once snarling at DI Rose was now staring at the floor. His body ever so slightly trembling. The Hammer Rock killed men of different sizes and didn’t discriminate. As long as you were a man, you were a target.

“He’s in for criminal damage.” he said nodding to the huge man “Your guy is in cell two.”

He tapped on a screen behind his head. The CCTV camera was steadily fixed on a small body pushed up into a corner. Every head in the custody suite turned to stare, everyone except the man with the tattooed neck. The Hammer Rock Killer had no idea he was now the single point of attention for the whole room.

“And before you start,” the Custody Sergeant said “the police doctor reckons he’s a bit simple, so no storming into his cell. Once the appropriate adult has shown up you can interview him then, and I don’t want any arguments. This is my custody and I can’t believe that scrap of a lad has killed anyone.”

DI Rose stared at Hammer Rock, she had waited so long to meet him. She felt disappointed by what she had been presented with. He was small, maybe 5’5 at most, his body was lean and wiry. His hair was short and dark and looked like it was cut at home, probably over a female relative’s sink. Even on the CCTV she could see his eyes were red and swollen presumably from crying. Repeatedly he wiped his nose on his sleeve. She had expected a higher level of hygiene from someone who killed without leaving a single piece of DNA. Until now of course, the arresting officer said there was DNA all over the latest victim. She tilted her head ever so slightly still watching the suspect. He was snivelling and obviously upset. DI Rose turned to ask the young officer exactly what this small man had said or done to warrant the arrest, but he had disappeared.

“What’s his name?”

“Macer Lewis, and you can’t just hang around here staring at him.”

Rose wandered back to her office. Is this the man I’ve been waiting to meet she thought to herself, is Macer Lewis The Hammer Rock Killer?

3.

When I was seven, the travelling fair came to town. My dad took me filled with promises of candy floss and gigantic teddy bears. I remember the music was loud, I thought my tiny body was moving from the inside out, and I was wondered if it got any louder would explode? I held his hand tight as we moved between the crowds, him leading me to a ride.

“This was my favourite ride when I was kid.”

I will always remember the smell of my father’s breath. It’s the reason I don’t smoke cigarettes. It’s the reason I don’t drink beer. He looked so happy staring at the spinning booths.

“Don’t worry” he said “you’ll be tall enough to ride.”

He didn’t stop to measure me against the obligatory cartoon with the red line marking the correct height to ride. He pulled me to the front of the queue. I remember looking up at him, and wanting to know when I could have some candy floss. The ride slowed to a halt and a man indicated it was now our turn.

“Pick a colour”

He pulled me to one of the moving booths, a purple one, and we both got in. My head didn’t quite reach the cushioned leather surrounding the top.

“Your mother used to love the waltzers.”

He winked at me. There was a metal bar which rested on his knee but was far from mine. I didn’t want to be on the ride. I wanted to get off. I didn’t feel like I had a choice. I felt like I had to be there, in that moment on that ride.

Soon the ride began. Round and round we went. Immediately I began to feel sick. As the ride became faster my body was thrown around the spinning booth, my knees and stomach into the metal bars and my head repeatedly banged against the hard interior, I not quite tall enough for the cushioned leather head rest. I kept trying to reach my dad so he could help me, but each time my arm just couldn’t reach far enough or my body would be jolted into the corner only in the next breath to jolt me back again. Every time I managed to look at him, he wasn’t looking at me, he was looking far away into the distance smiling.

I could feel the first formations of bruises all of over me, but then ride became quicker, and I saw a man stood above the booth and he span us harder and faster. The feeling begins in the stomach, I knew it was coming, and then it travelled upwards. I tried to get my head into a corner, but I couldn’t. It came straight out of my mouth, yellow and putrid smelling, it was all down the pretty dress I was wearing. The ride slowed and for the first time my dad looked at me. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. The only time he touched me was to drag me off of the ride.

I followed behind him. I heard the occasionally gasp, and the crowds parted as we walked through, perhaps my sheer stench warning them we were there. I was being stared at. I could feel eyes on me but I never looked up to meet them. The entire walk home, I wondered why I didn’t get my teddy bears or the candy floss, and why every time I reached for my father hand he did not hold it.

Since Aaron’s death, I have felt like that little girl every single moment. Praying to get off the ride. Praying for someone to hold my hand. Praying for Aaron to walk through the door. I don’t think there is anyone listening to our prayers.

Even as I sat in the packed court I felt like a seven year old, alone and hoping that someone would hold my hand. I kept one eye on the entrance, just in case he walked through the door, and smiled in his way that makes everything better. Aaron could make this all better. I was surrounded by many: journalists, family members of other victims, those with a taste for the macabre, we all came together and waited for the judge to deliver the sentence. I half wondered if the Judge would sentence me too. Surely, some of this was my fault. Surely, there was something I could’ve done to stop it all. If I truly loved him there must have been a way for me to protect him. Maybe, if I had been more insistent about him driving into the city for work and not getting the train. The Hammer Rock had already killed seven men, but Aaron said he would be fine. I should have pushed harder. I could have pushed harder. My thoughts shattered like glass hitting a hard cold surface as Macer Lewis entered the court. He was marched into the room, a prison officer either side of him. Like everyone else he was waiting to hear his sentence. Everyone thought he was going to get life, he deserved life. He was crying. I felt sick. His weakness made me feel sick. I had never seen Aaron cry, and I knew in those final moments he would not have cried and he would not have begged because he was a man and Macer Lewis was a coward. A coward stole Aaron from me. The judge entered shortly after, he removed his glasses and stared at Macer Lewis for a short time. Then he began to speak. Macer Lewis was sentenced. He was given a life sentence, I nearly got up and left because that’s all I wanted to hear, but then the judge started speaking again, he said Macer Lewis could apply for parole in twenty years, I thought life meant life. Twenty years, just twenty years, for stealing everything from me. He’d be 41 in twenty years, young enough to rebuild his life, to marry, to have a family, to kill again. There was a silence, the crowd went quiet, and for a couple of seconds all I could hear was the traffic from outside the building. The wife of another victim broke the silence like a gunshot on an empty street. She stood and began to scream. I’m not sure if she was screaming at the Judge or Macer Lewis. Soon the screams turned to howls, her face red and twisted, her words merged together into what soon became sobs. Court officials dragged her away, I saw from the corner of my eye, a small group of people quietly celebrating. I felt numb. Macer Lewis was staring at the door the victim’s wife had been dragged through, his face was blank, his eyes were empty, and there was a trace of confusion on his face. After the court hearing I went back to Aaron’s house. No one knew I still had a key. They asked me if I had a key, the day they took all his belongings. I said no. The only thing I had managed to take was the ring that I had found on the day he died and now everything was gone no bed, no sofa, no TV just my suitcase, I would sleep on the floor hoping to catch a glimpse on him. It wasn’t long before I realised that he had left that house and the smell no longer belonged to him. I only returned that day to collect my suitcase, and to say goodbye, no, that’s a lie, I will never say goodbye to him, not Aaron. I found myself in the bathroom briefly. My engagement ring slipped from my finger; it tinkled and rolled behind the toilet, and as I bent down desperately grasping for it I felt something sharp against my fingers. My ring had found its way onto a single solitary razor blade, without even a plastic coating to keep it company. I don’t know how it got there, but I think it was meant for me.

Blood trickled down my hand from where my finger had been grazed by the blade, taking it and my ring, I got to my feet and caught my reflection in the mirror built into the bathroom cabinet. It was me staring at me and my face appeared familiar, and yet it didn’t fit any more, like it belonged to someone I had known a long time ago. I smeared the blood from my finger down the centre of my face, and I inhaled the metallic smell. It made me feel high, the same way Aaron made me feel high. For a second I could see there was something I had not noticed before. It was a chasm, a void, and it was scratching and biting, it would howl and scream and no one could hear it, and no one could see it, except for me, and as I stood there staring at myself, I couldn’t figure out if this void, this deep dark black hole lived within me or if I lived within it, and I knew, in that very moment I was no longer me. I knew that I must take one final assault against myself and staring into the mirror I began to hack away at my hair until it was short, until it belonged to me, the person I was becoming. I had one promise for the stranger staring at me in the mirror and I spoke it aloud –

“I’m going to kill Macer Lewis”

When I look back over my life, when I’m in my death bed awaiting heaven, it is this moment I will describe as the time I was born.