Post by Rafael Selig on Apr 6, 2016 3:47:25 GMT
Rafael shoved open the door to his apartment, almost stumbling over the threshold, and placing a hand against the wall. He was exhausted; the last three days had been spent non-stop on the same case, and the money had dried up long ago. In his only spare hand, a digital camera was clutched desperately, as if it was the only thing that kept him standing. He continued to stumble forward, placing the camera down on a table on the fifth try; the other four, he nearly dropped it to the ground. He wasn't even sure how to feel about what he'd just seen...his entire world was spinning, and as he walked towards the bathroom he fell to his knees. His stomach was protesting loudly, and he couldn't even make it to the toilet bowl before he began to heave. He finally pulled his head over the rim, the half-digested food surging back up as he threw up into the porcelain container. After wiping his mouth, he reached a hand out, pushing down on the plunger, and pausing; there was no sound of running water.
Shit, shit, shit. No. This can't be happening. He shut his eyes tight, fighting down the urge to void the contents of his stomach again as he began to groan. He wished beyond all logic that this wasn't what he thought it was...he rose from the toilet, his eyes still closed tight, and he probed out with one hand, finally touching the sink. With one hand, he lazily turned a knob, and held his breath. Nothing. The fucking city had turned off his water while he was working. He turned the knob back around, but with a surge of fury he ripped the stainless steel sink from the counter, hearing the noise of shattering tiles. The faint joy that came from letting out his anger once more was quickly dwarfed by the knowledge that he had yet another bill he'd need to pay soon. He opened one eye, sighing under his breath as he sat the sink back down, waddling back into the living room and falling onto the couch; it sagged from his weight, causing the entire couch to rise off the ground for just a moment before it slammed back down.
"Why now? Why couldn't you just wait until the morning? I don't need this...I don't deserve this..." He was groaning under his breath as one hand ran over his face, then across his head; the faint stubble there tickled against his palm, but he barely even noticed. He was still remembering what he'd seen in that house...what they had been doing. He opened his eyes hurriedly as a hand slapped over his mouth. He couldn't let himself remember it. He'd gotten some amazing pictures of the moment; every angle had been perfectly maintained, and every single person could clearly be identified. He could give them to his client and be done with it in record time. Five thousand dollars, give or take, could be his, and he could move on.
And nothing would change. He grabbed the camera, staring at the pictures he'd taken with numb hands. His fingers trembled over the delete button as he scrolled through each one. Any one of them would be a headliner...would make him famous. Any one of them could've paid off every bill he had for the next three months. Any one of them would net him the keys to the city. But none of them captured what was actually happening. There were things he'd seen that made him sick, even after all the things he'd seen. There were things going on in that house that no sane person could've let pass. And yet he'd just snapped picture after picture. He NEEDED that money. He NEEDED this job. And she wanted to know what her husband was up to.
There was the picture of the man entering the house. Delete.
There was the picture of the man disrobing. Delete.
There was the picture of the man opening a door, and several others entering. Delete.
There was the picture of the little girl standing between them, looking so scared, so lost. Delete.
There was the picture of the knife, held over the girl's chest. Delete
There was the picture of the girl's clothing, folded neatly in a pile next to the door. Delete.
And last of all, there was the picture of the fifth guest. The one no one would believe him about. The one that was the reason he couldn't share this with anyone. The one that was making him give up five thousand American. Cash. They stood just away from the others, watching with cruel dispassion. It had its hands folded in front of it, and it was utterly nude, but there was no way to tell if it was male or female. There was only the mask, the ever-so-white mask on top of its face. The creature had watched as they'd cut out her heart, had cut it into three and eaten it right there. The thing had watched as they had washed themselves clean, and then partook in liberal dosings of whiskey.
The thing had watched as the girl's soul awoke, glancing down at her corpse somberly. And then it had moved with a speed like lighting, and the girl was gone. His thumb still hovered over the camera. Even this one picture could still get him everything he needed...could get him enough money to live the good life for some time. Enough for an early retirement. It could change everything; for once, he could have everything he wanted. He could be famous. He could be rich. This one photograph could set the entire pace for the second half of his life.
But it wouldn't do anything for her. He finally pressed his thumb down, and set the camera down once more. Having just dashed his only hopes at a paycheck this month, he trudged towards the fridge, hoping to grab a Coke.
Warm, of course.
Rafael Selig © All rights reserved, 2015-2016.
Shit, shit, shit. No. This can't be happening. He shut his eyes tight, fighting down the urge to void the contents of his stomach again as he began to groan. He wished beyond all logic that this wasn't what he thought it was...he rose from the toilet, his eyes still closed tight, and he probed out with one hand, finally touching the sink. With one hand, he lazily turned a knob, and held his breath. Nothing. The fucking city had turned off his water while he was working. He turned the knob back around, but with a surge of fury he ripped the stainless steel sink from the counter, hearing the noise of shattering tiles. The faint joy that came from letting out his anger once more was quickly dwarfed by the knowledge that he had yet another bill he'd need to pay soon. He opened one eye, sighing under his breath as he sat the sink back down, waddling back into the living room and falling onto the couch; it sagged from his weight, causing the entire couch to rise off the ground for just a moment before it slammed back down.
"Why now? Why couldn't you just wait until the morning? I don't need this...I don't deserve this..." He was groaning under his breath as one hand ran over his face, then across his head; the faint stubble there tickled against his palm, but he barely even noticed. He was still remembering what he'd seen in that house...what they had been doing. He opened his eyes hurriedly as a hand slapped over his mouth. He couldn't let himself remember it. He'd gotten some amazing pictures of the moment; every angle had been perfectly maintained, and every single person could clearly be identified. He could give them to his client and be done with it in record time. Five thousand dollars, give or take, could be his, and he could move on.
And nothing would change. He grabbed the camera, staring at the pictures he'd taken with numb hands. His fingers trembled over the delete button as he scrolled through each one. Any one of them would be a headliner...would make him famous. Any one of them could've paid off every bill he had for the next three months. Any one of them would net him the keys to the city. But none of them captured what was actually happening. There were things he'd seen that made him sick, even after all the things he'd seen. There were things going on in that house that no sane person could've let pass. And yet he'd just snapped picture after picture. He NEEDED that money. He NEEDED this job. And she wanted to know what her husband was up to.
There was the picture of the man entering the house. Delete.
There was the picture of the man disrobing. Delete.
There was the picture of the man opening a door, and several others entering. Delete.
There was the picture of the little girl standing between them, looking so scared, so lost. Delete.
There was the picture of the knife, held over the girl's chest. Delete
There was the picture of the girl's clothing, folded neatly in a pile next to the door. Delete.
And last of all, there was the picture of the fifth guest. The one no one would believe him about. The one that was the reason he couldn't share this with anyone. The one that was making him give up five thousand American. Cash. They stood just away from the others, watching with cruel dispassion. It had its hands folded in front of it, and it was utterly nude, but there was no way to tell if it was male or female. There was only the mask, the ever-so-white mask on top of its face. The creature had watched as they'd cut out her heart, had cut it into three and eaten it right there. The thing had watched as they had washed themselves clean, and then partook in liberal dosings of whiskey.
The thing had watched as the girl's soul awoke, glancing down at her corpse somberly. And then it had moved with a speed like lighting, and the girl was gone. His thumb still hovered over the camera. Even this one picture could still get him everything he needed...could get him enough money to live the good life for some time. Enough for an early retirement. It could change everything; for once, he could have everything he wanted. He could be famous. He could be rich. This one photograph could set the entire pace for the second half of his life.
But it wouldn't do anything for her. He finally pressed his thumb down, and set the camera down once more. Having just dashed his only hopes at a paycheck this month, he trudged towards the fridge, hoping to grab a Coke.
Warm, of course.
