I wake up to the sound of the alarm clock.

God! Its sound is piercing my brain. I turn it off with one hand while my other hand tries to hold my head before it shutters into pieces with so much pain.

“Oh boy! I forgot to send these two home”. I think while I look at the two girls in bed with me.

            I pick up their clothes from the floor and throw it at them waking them up.

            ‘Come on, it’s time to leave! I got work to do. Pick up your shits and leave.’ They get out of bed and skip outside the room as fast as possible.

            Yeah, I’m no gentleman. I’m usually just too busy or too wasted for caring anyways.

God, my head is killing me today! Maybe I shouldn’t have drank so much last night… I smile… drinking was not all I have done.

            I walk to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. I look at the mirror.

            ‘Oh shit, I look like crap!’ I say out loud.

            I grab the bottle of pills and shove a bunch of them down my throat. Painkillers for my headache. I wash them down with what is left of a Martini bottle from yesterday night.

            ‘Now, I just need some eyes drops and I will be okay to work.’ I apply some.

            As I get dressed I try to think at what led me here.

            Don’t take me wrong, I love my work! Ever since the day I saw both my parents being killed at the grocery shop, I knew what I wanted to do.

I still remember that day like it was yesterday. It was just a random assault. The guy went into the grocery shop where we were, started threatening the cashier but he himself was too nervous, so he turned around and shot the first two people he saw jut to scare the shop lady. Those two people were my parents. I was eight years old back then and a witness to the murder of both my parents. I was raised in foster homes knowing that I would grow up to become not only a policeman but the best I could ever be. I was going to catch scumbags like that one that killed my parents and still is on the loose up to this day. He was never caught! But one day, I will find him!

Turns out my work as a police officer was so spotless that I ended up being promoted and promoted until I was sent to the most fucked up department one could possibly be in…. the most horrendous in my perspective. Homicides.

I am a detective for the homicides department and I am the best there ever was. Do you want to know my secret?

            I share something in common with all those criminals… I don’t care much about life myself!

            I leave my room at the motel and head to my vintage grey car. I open the door, get inside, and have a sip of whiskey from the flask I always carry in my pocket. ‘Breakfast is served!’ I say to myself.

            I light a cigarette and turn on the engine. Time to head down to the police station.

After less than half an hour driving I arrive at the police station. I can tell from the movement going on inside that something big has happened.

            ‘Hey Martinez! What happened?’

            ‘You don’t know?! A hundred and twenty people were found dead in the mall this morning. When the security guard arrived to open the premises all he found was blood and corpses everywhere. The scene was so horrendous that he is getting counselling to deal with it.’

            Behind Martinez, I see chief signalling me from his office. He’s telling me to join him in his small, confined cubicle that smells at nothing else than sweat and cigarettes.

            I guess I was lucky for not having much for breakfast today.         

‘Good morning Chief!’

            ‘Good morning Dan! Nice of you to join us. Did Martinez filled you in on what’s going on at the city centre mall?’

            ‘Yes, he did.’

            Well, I need you to get down there and start investigating. I have sent Catarina but all she managed to do was to throw up. Everyone is waiting for you.’

            ‘I’m on my way.’ I say knowing exactly what is expected from me. I leave the chief’s office and walk outside the station. I light a cigarette on my way to the car. I get inside the car and speed to the crime scene. It takes me ten minutes on the road and then I find myself turning the steering wheel and getting inside the mall car park. I can see Catarina still throwing up outside the mall. There’s probably twenty cops here trying to keep all the curious eyes as far as possible.

            I park the car and walk towards Catarina showing my badge at the other policemen.

            ‘Hey honey! Did you have a big breakfast today?’

            ‘Shut up Dan. This one will probably make you gag as well. Why don’t you get inside instead of mocking me?’ She says right before starting throwing up again.

            I accept the invitation and make my way in.

            The scenario is definitely horrendous! I would dare saying macabre. Smells like death in here! There’s blood in every single wall, there’s slashes and open wounds, there’s corpses dripping blood from the stairs, corpses piling on top of others, corpses as far as my eyes can see. There’s corpses everywhere! It’s like a horrendous painting, almost like art in a very sick and despicable way.

I dare saying that each body was carefully left in a certain place to leave a careful designed scenario. Whoever did this wanted the attention!

            I walk past the victims looking for clues. Cause of death, they were shot dead. There’s also some sliced throats and wounds caused by some sharp instrument like a knife, but I would dare saying that those were induced post-mortem since I see no self-defence marks on the bodies.

Usually when someone is stabbed they are left with cuts in their wrists and hands from trying to defend themselves from the blade. It’s a natural human reaction.

Suddenly I find a foot print of blood that "moves" towards the staircase until its traces vanish… I assume this is the killer footprint. A bit careless he is. Probably new to this killing thing. It’s a sneaker size twelve, I recognise the brand. Very popular with the kids these days. My guess is that we have a teenager behind this. He must be big or at least very strong to be able to carry these corpses instead of simple dragging them around. Dragging would have left blood marks on the floor…

            I am assuming that none of these people was here when the mall closed. They couldn’t simple hide in here without being noticed. They all came together, while still alive. Meaning they all must share something.

            One thing I learnt about homicides is that the victims will always tell you more than the killer. Dead bodies talk, you just have to pay attention. For instance, all these people are teenagers. Probably all from the same school. Probably friends with the killer. But not friends-friends, friends don’t do this to each other, but acquainted… this was carefully planned by a very disturbed mind.

            I lean down and grab a wallet from the back pocket of a dead girl. I open the wallet and see her school identity:

“Joanne Smith, High School of Angels”

I signal one of the police officers at the door to come join me just to tell him:

‘Get our photographer, pathologist and the cleaning crew here. I already have all that I need.’

            I walk outside to meet Catarina.

            ‘Feeling better?’ I ask her.

            She tries to fool me pretending she is alright but her face talks louder than she realises. She is scary pale and her lips have long-lost all coloration.

            ‘What did you find?’ She asks me.

            ‘I dare saying, the killer is a kid probably from the same high school as the victims. Wears snickers, size twelve,  from the latest popular brand among kids these days, very expensive by the way, we are not talking about just a random kid, but a wealthy one, and he must be really strong or big, because those corpses where carefully laid down to recreate that horrendous scenario. I would dare saying he is an artist. A dark artist of some kind. Have their identities been gathered and families informed on the incident so far?’

            ‘Not yet. I couldn’t go pass the door.’

            ‘Well, I didn’t’ want to do this in this way, but we will have to interrogate the relatives while we give them the news. It’s important that we move fast.’

            ‘Why?’ she asks.

            ‘Because if daddy finds out daddy can always pay his son way out. And we don’t want that to happen before we catch him.’

            ‘Where should we start?’

            ‘Let’s talk to the parents of Joanne Smith to understand what happened yesterday and then let’s go to the High School of Angels and meet the friends that are still alive.’

            ‘How can you be so cold about this? Those are kids in there!’ She asks me, clearly strongly affected by what she saw in there.

            ‘No Catarina. Those are corpses. The kids are at school and at least one of them has the answer for what happened here. Let’s go, I will drive.’

            We get in the car and drive for forty-five minutes. Catarina doesn’t say a word throughout all the journey.

We arrive at the house of Joanne Smith. This is probably the only part of my job that I don’t appreciate. Bringing people bad news. Probably because I am not as empathic as some of my colleagues, like Catarina for example. She can relate to the tears and screams and sadness. For me it’s all a complete waste of time. I mean… the damage is done now what really matters is to solve the case, catch the guy who did it. Pay back! Avenge our victims. That’s the all reason why I get up from bed every day.

Therefore, I always let Catarina do the initial talking and she is good at it.

            I ring the bell.

            A lady in her mid-fifties, blond, thin with blue eyes in a classic blue dress with a flower pattern comes to the door. I can see the resemblances to the young girl I just saw in that miserable scenario at the mall.

            We both held our badges so that Mrs. Smith can see it.

            She opens the door with her eyes starting to tear up and I can see her hands starting to tremble. You can tell she suspects’ bad news are coming. She has probably been looking for her child all morning and night, judging by the black circles underneath her eyes…

            ‘Mrs. Smith?’ Asks Catarina.

            ‘Yes! Is this about Joanne? Where is she?’

            ‘Mrs. Smith, do you mind if we came in?’ Asks Catarina.

            ‘Sure, please come in.’

            We follow the lady until we reach the dining room. She signals us to sit at the chairs around the dining table. When we are all settled Catarina, my Latin co-worker starts doing her part, and she is damn good at it. If I ever have to receive bad news, please make sure to send me Catarina as the messenger.

            ‘Dear Mrs. Smith, I am afraid that we bring you some awful news.’

            ‘Oh my God! She holds on with both hands to a Jesus cross that she wears in the necklace around her neck bringing it closer to her heart. ‘What happened? It’s my daughter isn’t it? What happened?’

            Catarina proceeds, ‘Your daughter was found dead this morning, she and other teenagers from her school. A total of one hundred and twenty kids were murdered at the mall.’

            ‘Oh my God!’ She cries out load with tears rolling down her eyes.

            ‘Mrs. Smith, I know this is the worst possible thing a mother can hear, but I really need your cooperation in order to catch whoever did this. I promise you that understanding your pain and having the utmost respect for it, I won’t ask you more than three questions. Then I can call someone for you if you want me to. Is that alright?’ Asks Catarina being as compassionate as only she can be.

            The lady is completely devastated. She nods her head in agreement. It’s times like these that make me think “Why bother?” her lucidity is far gone, she is totally in shock, starting to grieve, she won’t be answering with the required clarity, any important detail will most likely be left behind.

            ‘Mrs. Smith, when was the last time you saw Joanne?’

            ‘She left home yesterday at six in the afternoon with a bunch of friends from School, apparently they had arranged to have dinner at the mall celebrating someone’s birthday.’ She reply’s leaving a name behind.

            ‘Do you remember the name of that person whose birthday was yesterday?’ I ask.

            ‘No… I didn’t pay enough attention, she’s a fifteen year old girl, she spends most of her free time at the mall with her friends. Or she used to…’ She cries.

            ‘Mrs. Smith, I know you are hurting, but this is crucial for us in order to catch whoever has done this and bring justice to you all and by doing so we will be preventing something like that to ever happen again.  Please try to remember if there was anyone at school that could dislike Joanne, or had a strange behaviour, maybe a violent behaviour, that Joanne could have mention to you?’ Says Catarina.

            ‘No. She was just a girl you know…’ And she cries more.

            I leave the house and light a cigarette by the porch.

While I smoke Catarina calls a family member of Mrs. Smith to come watch her during her misery. I don’t understand compassion very much these days… Maybe I need a drink. I take a sip at my whiskey, put it back inside my jacket and throw in another couple of pills.

            Finally Catarina leaves the house. ‘Let’s go!’ She says.

            We get in the car and she mentions:

            ‘You are awfully quiet!’

            ‘I am thinking…’ Then my phone rings.

            ‘Hello?’

            ‘Detective Williams?’

            ‘Yes that’s what people call me.’ I mumble.

            ‘Oh my God you are high again…’ I can hear Catarina saying.

            ‘Detective we got the results from the initial autopsies and so far all of them point out for gun shot as the cause of death followed by knife wounds inflicted post-mortem.’

            ‘Thank you.’ I hang up the phone and say:

            ‘I was right… the knife wounds were post-mortem.’

            ‘Yeah, now try to behave! We just arrived at the school, don’t let anyone realise you’re high… what did you take?’

            ‘Chill out, just a couple of Xanax.’

            ‘Geez... Dan! You are a detective behave as such. You are so bright! What exactly are you trying to cover up with that behaviour’?

            Funny question.., if she only knew!

            We leave the car parked and head inside the school. After talking to the principal we are allowed to talk to all students at the conference room.

            ‘Good Morning! My name is Detective Dan Williams and this is my colleague Inspector Catarina Rosa. How many of you heard about a birthday celebration at the mall yesterday?’

            They all raise their hands.

            ‘How’s so?’

Some of them say:

            ‘Handouts were given at the school corridors.’

            ‘Whose birthday was?’

            ‘Mary Jane!’ They all reply.

            ‘Where is Mary Jane?’

            The room goes silent. Catarina touches my shoulder and tells me ‘It’s one of the dead kids.’

            ‘Mary Jane is dead!’ I say while observing their behaviour.

All the kids seem to go into shock for a while. The room is as silent as it could possibly be. ‘Mary Jane, Joanne Smith and another hundred and eighteen of your mates died yesterday night at the mall. In fact they were killed, murdered, I want to know why the rest of you didn’t go.’

            We heard things like “my mum didn’t allow me” (Smart mum!), I didn’t like her”, “didn’t knew her”.

            ‘I know the mall lock was forced, I realised that this morning while I watched your dead friends on the floor. Did you know it was a break in?’

            Yes, they did… The silence is compromised by looks to each other’s.

            ‘Why couldn’t you get in there at regular hours?’

            ‘That was the purpose, to break in and have a hell of a party.’ Someone says.

            ‘How many of you wear Rob Jack shoes?’

            I see a few feet raising up showing me their shoes.

            ‘I look at them seeing who matches the idea I have created of this killer. There’s a kid calling my attention. He’s listening but drawing. He wears black clothes and Rob Jack shoes. The kind of rich kid pretending to rebel against something that he hasn’t quite figured out yet. I walk towards him and I grab his foot up.

            ‘Hey!’ He yells…

            ‘Size twelve. Can I see your sketches? He looks at me like he has no other option and hands me his notebook. His drawings are good. An artist, no doubt! There are drawings of monsters, blood, murders, but also cartoons, a girl, nature…’

            ‘Did you know someone who went to the mall yesterday?’

            ‘We all did.’ He replies.

            ‘Why didn’t’ you went there with them?’

            ‘He looks at me with disdain. ‘Why? Am I in some kind of trouble just because I wear Rob Jack shoes and didn’t went to a party that ended up being the death of all the guests? I don’t mix with “bimbos” that’s why.’ He says

            ‘Do you have any idea who could have done such a thing?’

            ‘How the fuck am I supposed to know? Isn’t that your job?’

            I smile. I like his short temper.

            ‘Ok, you may all go back to your classes.’ I say.

            I walk towards Catarina and the Principal and ask the principal:

            ‘There was a kid sitting at row six, seat fourteen, short, with glasses and a rather large shirt and trousers… very quiet. Who’s he?’

            ‘That would be Daniel Norton.’

            ‘Who’s Daniel Norton?’

            ‘Come into my office I can show you his file. He is our best student! Great grades, don’t mess around, very quiet, a bit of a loner but one of the most brilliant minds in here. You can’t possible think he has anything to do with what happened!’

            ‘Can you show me the file?’

            As we walk towards the principal office, Catarina asks me:

            ‘What are you doing? Shouldn’t we be arresting the gothic guy? We could have him for interrogation just for his behaviour alone?’

            ‘He’s not a gothic, he’s a metal fan, and he’s an artist, with a heart. Even he was baffled when hearing about the death of all those people he despised. But little Daniel Norton in other hand, have shown absolutely no reaction, thus, standing out from the crowd. There was absolutely no change of expression in his face and Mrs. Catarina the lack of empathy is the first signal of a psychopathic behaviour.’

            ‘Does that make, you, a psychopath?’

            I smile at her and we carry on walking.

            At the Principal office I go through Norton’s file. I pass it then to Catarina and write his address in a yellow paper I take from the principal desk.

            ‘You said he was a lonely boy?’ I ask the principal.

            ‘Definitely! As most genius, he is bright but lack the social skills. He rarely speaks and when he does you can’t barely hear him, then he hands in his essays and exams and baffle us all with his intellect.’

            ‘So he has no friends whatsoever?’

            ‘None that I am aware off… maybe in his neighbourhood! I don’t know. Here, I never saw him with anyone. Sits alone at the cafeteria. Spend most time at the library. A great kid just a bit reserved.’

            ‘I must assume that such behaviour led to some bullying at some point?’

            ‘Not that I am aware off. I think there might have been a couple of incidents but overall we have a bunch of great kids in here.’

            ‘Tell me about such incidents.’

            ‘Being called out “weirdo” at the competition this spring and being laughed at for speaking so low at the class. Nothing major.’

            ‘What time does he finish school today?’

            ‘Within thirty minutes.’

            ‘Thank you for your cooperation.’

            As me and Catarina walk back to the car I say:

            ‘Let’s go to the kid house and arrest him.’

            ‘What are you saying? You said it yourself, who did this had to be either a big person or a strong one, he’s like a ten-year old? He’s just the typical nerd. The other guy was six feet tall, I think you may be wrong in this one!’

            ‘Well, the other guy was a diversion, I suggest we go to Norton’s house and look for evidences.’

            I jump into the driver seat eager to prove my theory. This is the thrill of my job!

As we arrive at his house I see the kid walking down the road.

            ‘I tell you what Catarina. Go inside and ask to see his room, I bet you, you will find some disturbing art, some serious evidences and shoes size twelve.’

            ‘Ok.’ She accepts the challenge.

 I wait for her to get inside the house invited by the kid’s mum and I exit the car and walk to meet Daniel Norton on his way home.

            As soon as he sees me approaching he starts running away. I run trying to keep up with him, but there’s a sportive side to him that he is just showing off right now.

            After some five minutes of running I feel like I am about to cough my lounges out, luckily Catarina shows up driving the car. “Leave it with me!” She yells.

            She outruns the kid, stop the car sideways, window entirely open, and she points a gun at the kid forehead.

            The kid stops and raises both hands up in the air. I walk towards him and handcuff him struggling to articulate this sentence:

            ‘Daniel Norton, you are being taken under custody on the suspicion of murdering one hundred and twenty of your school mates yesterday night.’

            ‘It’s not true… I want a lawyer.’

            At the police station, both I and Catarina are at the interrogation room staring at the kid until his lawyer arrives.

            Finally the guy in suit arrives. As he sits he asks:

            ‘Can I know what is my client being accused off?’

            ‘Sure!’ I say. ‘He is accused of  breaking into the mall yesterday night with one hundred and twenty kids from school, murdering them all and then displaying them in the most horrific possible way. Here, have a look!’ I throw the photographs from the crime scene in front of him.

            I can see him getting serious affected by the cruelty of those images. His Adam’s apple is moving up and down as he swallows the gags he wishes he could expose.

            ‘Can I talk to your client now?’ I ask.

            ‘Yes.’ He manages to say.

            ‘Mr. Norton, here’s what I am thinking. People underestimated you and you know it. You were the brightest of them all and they judged you upon your lack of social interaction. They have mocked you, they went around without noticing you, and you never got invited to anything. You are not tall at all but you are strong as hell, twice winner of the wrestling school championship. I know you practice your weights at home every day and then you cover up your muscles with your nerdy large clothes. You probably do so, because you have been planning the murder of those people all along. There was a footprint at the crime scene, a Rob Jack shoe size twelve…. Like yours.’

            ‘That proves nothing!’ He says.

            ‘But the gun and the knife covered in blood that you’ve hidden in a box at the attic of your house do.  You see Daniel, you are bright, but I know you are a strange boy. Here’s what gave you away, your lack of emotion when I mentioned the death of so many of your friends. You were the only one who shown no emotion whatsoever. No sympathy, empathy, no nothing. Even the school hater shown a bit of respect for the dead. But not you. No Sir! Apart from the hater you were also the only one who didn’t raise your Rob Jack shoe up in the air so that I could see it.’

            ‘And when I went to your house, I found your bedroom walls covered with these.’ Catarina drops on top of the table several drawings featuring the crime scene.

            The lawyer starts vomiting on the floor.

            ‘They never invited me for anything, anything… not even this time. They were handing out flyers on the school corridors and no one gave me one, it was like they didn’t even see me. The entire school gets invited and I am treated like I am invisible. Do you have any idea of how that feels?’

            ‘So you saw this as your chance to put your plan at work. You sneaked in the mall well prepared and started shooting them all.’

            ‘Pretty much.’

            ‘And why go through all the trouble of disposing the bodies the way you did and then mutilating them like that?’

            ‘Because I want people to know me!’

            There are many ways in which you could have accomplished that Mr. Norton, but this one was not the right one kid. You are going to jail for the rest of your life and by the time you are twenty no one will remember you anymore. That’s only five years from now. You wanted to be someone but you just wasted your entirely life being forever a nobody.

The End