Black heart

Wednesday, May 18, 2016

Chapter 4

It had been eight years.

Since watching someone else getting blamed and prosecuted for what he had done. He had perfectly orchestrated the arrest of his carefully prepared scapegoat. Of course, the scapegoat did deserve it, also, he didn’t like the competition. And the idiot was stupid enough to leave trails.

Oh, it had been thrilling. The press, the publicity. Everyone talking about his amazing act. He had been the hero. Well, the others would have considered him the villain, but he knew that a villain is just what the scared people called the hero.

It had been hilarious to watch how they treated him like the hero but referred to his actions – which they obviously were too stupid to realize – as villainous.

After the buzz had died down, he had decided to lay low for a while. There was some limelight near him, and he didn’t want to be in it. He was too clever, too great to get caught by being careless.
When the cravings had been too strong, he’d been discrete about it. Took a vacation. Carefully performed experiments that he knew would alert none. He closed the experiments well. Even displayed so much mercy as to let the poor families believe that it was an unfortunate accident or a natural cause that struck too soon. He had trained himself well.

But, he craved recognition again. The excitement was almost as gratifying as the experiment sometimes.

Yes, he’d stayed around to watch an enraged relative or two in those minor instances that he hadn’t bothered to – or been too arrogant to – clean up. But that didn’t hold a candle to everyone talking about it.

He fondly remembered all those imaginary theories that people had come up with. Calling him Jack the ripper! Religious associations… those were ironic- anyone could tell it was all about the science!
Making references to the red colour of her clothes – when it was the red of pure and fresh human blood that excited him…excited him. They had gone as far as to declare that sales of red sarees had drastically reduced!

Eight years he’d held it in, and the night before – he’d given in to the craving. Actually, it had taken over him. It probably was the red saree, he now thought, laughing to himself. It had been so long that the people seemed to have forgotten and this girl was proudly flaunting her red saree.

One that would have looked so much better bloody.

And the high he had gotten in carefully getting that note written – sheer ecstasy!

He got up from his now pristine white again workstation. The sample of the intestine expertly preserved and neatly named. He looked at it with pride – his trophies – and carefully shut the box, locking it.

It took him less than a half hour to completely clean the room and rid it of all other traces of DNA. His living room – not some locked away basement– he was no coward. He loved his life, his experiments and his home – one he had carefully done up in soft pastel shades, and expensive pieces of art.

He felt good now. Content with his last experiment. And gleefully eager about the buzz that is probably brewing right then.

Oooh it was going to be so good!

Note : This post is a part of the “Tagged” Contest by writer Kaarthika and The Chennai Bloggers Club. Kaarthika’s book is being released on May 29.

P.S: Now I tag Mary to take this forward :)

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