The Past – Blood on the Hands
Damien was sixteen the first time he watched someone else die.
It wasn't murder. Not exactly.
It was a car crash on the edge of town. A mangled mess of metal and fire.
The paramedics arrived late. The man behind the wheel was still breathing when Damien crouched beside the wreck. No one else dared go near—the car looked ready to burst into flames.
But Damien wasn't afraid.
He knelt close. Listened to the wet rasp of the man's lungs. Watched the red flood soak into the street.
The man reached out. Not pleading. Not even for help.
Just human instinct.
Damien looked him in the eye… and waited.
When the breath finally stopped, Damien closed his hand around the man's fingers, then gently placed them on his chest.
The fire didn't catch. But the blood on Damien's sleeve stayed long after he washed it.
That night, the dreams were back. But they didn't frighten him anymore.
They comforted him.
The Present – Another Puzzle Piece
In the office, Jonas slapped a new crime scene photo on the board. This one from a burnt-out warehouse near the docks.
Third victim.
No forced entry.
No DNA left behind.
But the signature was getting clearer: a single white glove placed on the floor next to the body. Pristine. Not worn.
Jonas tapped the picture. "Same glove brand as the last two. Imported. Not sold locally."
Damien leaned against the wall, arms crossed. He already knew.
Same killer.
But not Cole.
Cole had been with him the night before.
Which meant someone was mimicking the pattern.
Or worse…
Someone was watching them closely enough to understand it.
The Past – The First Plan
Damien was eighteen when he made his first real plan.
Not just instinct.
Not rage.
A plan.
The target was a man who worked at a junkyard, someone who used to sell stolen car parts and ran a side hustle of beating up people for debt collectors.
Damien watched him for two weeks. Knew when he left work. Knew which bar he drank at. Knew where he parked his truck.
On a rainy Thursday, Damien left a flat tire in the alley the man always walked through.
When the man bent to look at it, Damien stepped out from the shadows with a crowbar.
He didn't swing in anger.
He swung in rhythm.
Three strikes. Silence.
He left the crowbar behind.
Walked out into the storm.
And smiled when the cold rain hit his face.
The Present – Jonas's Curiosity
Jonas was starting to lose sleep.
He wasn't sure when it started. Maybe after the second body. Or maybe when he realized the victims didn't seem random.
No connections on paper.
But the way they were killed… the precision. The intentional silence.
He turned to Damien in the office, something sharp in his voice.
"Tell me something, D. You ever feel like we're always one step behind because someone wants us to be?"
Damien met his eyes. "You're saying the killer's playing with us?"
Jonas nodded. "Yeah. And it's not just the kills. It's the message. Like he knows how we think."
Damien gave a small smile. "Or maybe we're not thinking hard enough."
Jonas exhaled. "Either way… I want to be in that sick bastard's head."
You already are, Damien thought.
You just don't know it.
The Present – Cole's Discovery
Cole stood on the rooftop overlooking the third crime scene.
He wasn't supposed to be there.
But he knew the layout of the city better than most.
He watched the lights below. The chaos. The yellow tape.
He wasn't angry.
He was… intrigued.
Whoever this new player was, they weren't sloppy.
But they weren't Damien either.
They were showy. Leaving notes. Leaving gloves.
Trying too hard.
Cole liked clean. Quiet. Damien's way.
Still, he crouched by the vent and whispered, "I'll find you. And when I do… you'll understand who taught me."
The Past – A Warning Missed
At nineteen, Damien had a conversation that stayed with him forever.
It was with a priest.
Not at church. Outside a bookstore, of all places.
The priest had dropped a stack of books, and Damien helped him gather them.
"You're quiet," the old man had said.
"I prefer to listen," Damien replied.
The priest looked at him closely. "Your eyes… they don't belong to a listener. They belong to a thinker. A planner."
Damien shrugged.
The priest touched his shoulder. "Whatever you're thinking about doing… don't. I've seen that look before. In the mirror."
And he walked away.
Damien never saw him again.
But sometimes, when the night is too quiet, he hears that voice in his head.
The Present – Elliot Knows More Than He Says
In his room, Elliot finished another drawing.
This time, three figures. One tall and calm. One hunched in shadows. One in a mirror.
Each held a knife.
But only one had blood on their hands.
Elliot looked at the drawing for a long time, then folded it and placed it under his pillow.
Downstairs, his father was laughing at something on the news.
Cole was sharpening a knife again.
But Elliot wasn't listening to either of them.
He was listening to the silence between their words.
Because in the silence, truths speak louder than screams.