The unknown

It was the unknowing that haunted him in daylight and returned with a vengeance in the darkness of his dreams. He tried with all his might to cloak these terrors, yet it remained a hopeless desire. Despite the trepidation that permeated him, he was an involuntary participant each night to these horrific visions—bearing witness to the memory that devastated him from a year ago. 

Even after the many days blurred into weeks then months, Carlos was obstinate in unravelling the gruesome murder of his late wife. 

Carlos had become a shell of his former self, too tormented in unveiling the monster responsible for poor Jessabelle’s death. A flicker had ignited within him that night, one he hadn’t felt since his initial years as a young police technician on his very first case. It was a flicker that urged him to uncover this evil, regardless of how often he was reprimanded by his superiors for his immediate connection to this unsolved investigation.

Even after his hard-earned years moving up the ranks in the police force to Chief of Police, his power within the industry was fruitless. He had expended all possible funds during his exploration. Primary witnesses who denied ever seeing anyone wander into his home, also denying ever hearing Jessabelle's bellowing cries as she was bludgeoned to death. Surveillance had also revealed nothing of the perpetrator entering or exiting the house. And, regardless of the numerous crime scene investigators that dusted the scene, no fingerprints besides that of husband and wife could be discerned. 

Though this initially devastated Carlos, instituting a sense of stupor and anguish within him for months, he could finally overlook this to determine a critical clue.

Whoever had killed his beloved Jessabelle was skilled at what they did, experienced in ensuring no evidence would lead to them. This person…this monster, must’ve entered through the rickety fence from their backyard. It was the only possibility since all other avenues had been expended.

It was the same fence that Jessabelle had insisted should be fixed over the years for fear their dog, Sadie might escape. In hindsight, it was true what she had said. The fence had become weathered and gaped over time, easily large enough for someone to crawl under and into their backyard.

If only he had listened to his wife’s desires which soon became complaints. But no, he defended his actions for his untimely delay of the task up until her death.

Each night after work, he’d have a drink to numb the horrors he saw throughout the day. It hadn’t always been like this though. It began with one drink after the announcement of his first promotion. Then another after each felon he arrested was rightfully sentenced. He didn’t know when he had first begun to make simple excuses to wet his lips with the liquor, whether it was in celebration or to cease the fears that paralysed him. Soon a singular glass of scotch became cheap booze after his unwavering habit saw to his and Jessabelle’s funds slowly dwindling after months, then years of constant drinking.

It was because of that, that he hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol since he found her that night. He remembered stumbling from the first floor of their house to the second, each step ensuring a throbbing ache emitted from his pounding head after drinking himself into oblivion once again.

Calling her name in a raspy grumble to bring him pain medication, he continued his ascent up towards their bedroom. He remembered being stunned that she hadn’t answered his command. Yes, she had become tiresome of his drinking habits, but not enough to not tend to him, surely.

Suspicion began to make itself clear when blood dotted their once plush carpets crimson. Tripping over his feet, he hadn’t realised how the blood already painted his hands a deep red, and how his knuckles and legs ached as they kissed the carpeted floor in a frenzy as he rushed towards their bedroom. 

He remembered the smell at first. The stench of metal which he later realised was blood that had painted the hall a rusty red, dripping down the white walls as icing would to a cake. The glass encasing the happy memory from Carlos and Jessabelle’s wedding day was left splintered near their bedside table, like many of their belongings scattered throughout the room.

Carlos was shocked out of his continuous reverie when the phone rang, its shrill tone causing his heart to pound through his ears. On shaky legs, he walked towards the phone, hovering over it as the dull gold of his wedding band reflected off the light. 

“Carlos speaking.” His tone was gruff as he spoke as if it had been too long since he last interacted with another.

The line was quiet for several seconds, irking him. However, the silence was soon preferred over the news the nervous lady informed him of regarding his dog.

It wasn't until she had asked her question, did he refocus. “Sir, would you be able to come down now? Sadie is out of surgery.”

He let the news sit with him for a few moments, his mouth feeling dry and his stomach weaving into knots. 

“Sir?” she prompted when the moments dwindled into what Carlos could only assume was minutes.

Clearing his throat of heavy feelings, he replied. “Sorry, yes. I'll be down shortly.” He ended the call, unbothered by whether the vet technician was about to speak. Almost mechanically, he collected his keys in one hand and pocketed his phone, and soon the soft thud of the door saw to him confined in his vehicle.

This couldn’t be happening to him. Surely the world wouldn’t be so cruel as to allow Sadie to die on the day that marked Jessabelle’s first anniversary in the afterlife. Shaking his head as if to compel the impending events to alter, he tightened his grip on the steering wheel while jolting back as his foot forcefully connected with the gas pedal.

He veered into the parking lot of the vet clinic, peering out through his window at the darkening sky and the smell of an impending storm. He hoped this didn’t indicate the harrowing events that might occur.

The soft chime of the bell as he opened the door notified the vet technician behind the counter of his presence. An easy smile lifted on her face as she greeted him and took his details. When informing her in so few words that he was here for Sadie, she wasn’t quick enough to conceal how her eyes dimmed.

Perhaps to any other, they wouldn’t have noticed. However, when his career was based on observing how someone’s expression could either exonerate or convict them, it was a sure sign that today would most likely break what had taken him so long to rebuild—his sanity.

As he entered the small sterile room that the technician urged him towards, he saw the familiar brown and white tufts of fur laying against the metal bench. Sadie looked peaceful, and he was thankful that the anaesthesia dampened the pain she no doubt felt daily.

He knew it was cruel to let her live like this in pain. Even to walk short distances had Sadie limping and softly whimpering. Yet he couldn’t part ways with the only living reminder of Jessabelle. It was this dog after all that had seen to him and his wife meeting in the park all those years ago, as the once pup came barreling into him along the walkway.

“I’ll leave you to say your final goodbyes to Sadie.” The woman, which he presumed was the one from the phone touched his shoulder with sad eyes, as if remorseful for burdening him with this news. 

With a soft thud of the door, quietness enveloped the room. He rubbed behind Sadie’s ears as he knew she liked it all too well and sat down in the chair beside her. She appeared exhausted, her tired brown eyes no longer lively as they once were when she was a pup. Her fur that was glossy and soft had become matted and dull with age. Even lifting her head to gaze at her owner proved to be a challenge for her since moments after, she allowed the coolness of the bench to become her sanctuary once more. 

“Hey Sadie. How you feeling, my girl?” It was a silly question to ask, but he wanted some normalcy in what would perhaps be their last conversation. It was typical for him to engage in one-sided exchanges over the last year, trying to fill the void that encased the halls after Jessabelle’s absence ensured loneliness within him.

Each night, after seeing to his holster discarded on the bench and guzzling water in place of the cheap liquor he would ordinarily consume, he would greet his dog. And soon it became a consistent practice in his dull life that he wasn’t willing to give up just yet.

After untold minutes, a soft knock on the door brought Carlos from his stupor. Lifting his head from next to Sadie’s, he hadn’t realised tears brimmed his eyes until his vision began to blur. With his large hand, he wiped his face aggressively in an attempt to rid himself of this heartbreak and the last hellish year. 

“Would you like to be in the room when we administer the medicine?” The vet technician tilted her head to the side softly, observing how Carlos' hand continued to scratch behind Sadie’s ear as he regarded his dog with all the adoration in the world.

He felt nauseous at the thought of being here when it was time. Why would he want to relive this memory for the remainder of his years? Though he knew he should be here, after all, she was one of few things that anchored him to this reality.

As the vet technician explained the process that was to ensue, he nodded his head in understanding, even though most of the words she spoke blurred past him. He was too fixated on remembering Sadie’s features, down to her white paws that he and Jessabelle commonly remarked looked like socks. 

As the dogs rising chest slowed, Carlos clung to her as if his sheer will would prevent her eternal slumber. Yet it was to no avail. Within moments, her tired eyes closed and her heart thumped no longer. 

As the little light from the sun gave way to darkness, Carlos drove home unconsciously. He didn’t remember getting into his banged-up car. Nor entering his house and walking towards the kitchen. It wasn’t until he poured two fingers worth of scotch that he realised his actions and where they had led him.

He scolded himself for not throwing out the casing of liquor in his challenge to abstain from alcohol. However, at the time, whether it be denial or stupidity, he thought keeping the amber liquid would remind him of why he made this promise a year ago.

He scoffed at his obvious idiocy. Tears burning at the back of his eyes, he waged war within himself. He reasoned that he shouldn’t drink since it was the cause of his poor Jessabelle's death. He knew of their straining marriage due to his alcoholism, how he preferred the company of booze over his wife’s incessant pleas to rebuild their relationship to what it was. He also knew that if he hadn’t have drunk himself into oblivion that night that he would never have found her beaten and bruised upstairs. He could’ve very well have prevented her death.

It was fruitless to refuse what he so willingly desired though. Harm had already been inflicted. There was little else he was clinging to besides tarnished memories and broken promises. Everything he had loved had perished, so what did it matter that he drank. It wasn’t as if any could witness the depths of his despair, none that’d care anyhow.

This past year he had isolated himself from those around him. Those who had looked up to him in the police force now barely recognised him, and him them. So, what would it matter if he had this one drink…

The familiar burning scorched the back of his throat as he shot back the scotch, and a shiver wracked his body as if welcoming the warmth that would soon invade his veins.

Yet his body craved more. So, one glass was soon replaced by the bottle until the room around him began to spin and the edges of his vision blurred. He remembered the familiarity of his drunken state and why he had welcomed drinking all those years ago.

Drunk, he wouldn’t remember that Jessabelle had begun to detest him. Drunk, he didn’t miss her as much. Drunk, he ignored Sadie’s sad eyes that looked at him for one final time. 

His attempt at climbing the stairs to the second floor halted as he blinked to rid himself of what he could only presume was a hallucination. It couldn’t be, could it? 

Trying to stumble closer, he saw the silhouette of a man shrouded in darkness, near his bedroom door. Carlos’ fists were clenched tight and from the moon offering little light through the arched window, he could discern a small smile upon the shadow’s face. With beady black eyes, the man continued to stare at Carlos, unwavering. 

He stared at the person that he could only assume was the monster that killed his beloved wife. And the monster stared right back, unblinking and cold. Carlos had heard about killers returning to the scene of the crime days after it occurred, or sometimes even after years. Would this man be mindless enough to return on Jessabelle’s anniversary?

Scolding himself for having no tangible weapon, he crept towards the man, worried he would flee at any given moment. 

“One question is all I ask.” Carlos’ bottom lip trembled and he had to rub his eyes to ensure that this was no mere dream, but in fact reality, after all, he had drunk himself senseless. “Why? Why my poor Jessabelle? My poor wife.” 

The man’s nostrils flared as if angered by the question, yet he didn’t reply. 

Carlos stared at the monster who had destroyed his life, destroyed the memories that could’ve been but weren't due to her untimely death. Unable to help it, his fists clenched and he slightly rolled back his shoulder. He was stunned to see how responsive his movements were to the murderer standing in front of him as if he too were readying himself for a cataclysmic battle. 

The monster’s eyes stared through to Carlos’, unremitting to yield or look away as a small smile danced upon his unshaven face. 

In a raging blur, Carlos swung into the air, and pain like no other splintered through his clenched fist as he collided with the opposing man. Moments before attacking anew, he peered up towards the man that had destroyed his life.

An audible gasp left Carlos’ mouth as he saw the broken reflection of himself standing before him. Shards of glass were all that remained from the mirror as blood trailed down the jagged surface and his knuckles.

His reflection smiled as if taunting him to assemble the clues sprinkled in front of him. It was proving to be a challenge however in his drunken state. 

His heart was running rampant and blood surged through his ears so loud he had to place his hands over his head to soothe the uproar. As he closed his eyes to relieve some of the chaos harrowing him, blurred pictures formed in his mind. 

As if witnessing it for the first time, Carlos watched the events that unfolded within his subconscious from that terrible night one year ago.

Unsurprising, he had come home drunk, stumbling through the door he attempted to find Jessabelle. Failing to locate her in the kitchen nor the washroom, he followed the sweet scent of her lavender fragrance towards the second floor. 

Frantic noises were heard from their bedroom and what he saw caused a blind rage to fester within him. Empty suitcases were perched on the bed as if someone were about to fill them. Fearful blue eyes widened upon seeing her husband, the husband she thought would be home in more hours to come. Oh, how she was sadly mistaken. 

Carlos began to remember an argument that held more rage than any they had had before and the fiery rage within him wasn’t exhausting even after untold minutes of trying to reason with Jessabelle. Refusing to listen to him any longer, she was about to charge through the doorway until he caught her milky upper arm.

She looked to him first in surprise as his large hand continued to encase her. Those stark eyes soon shifted towards fear as she realised he wasn’t about to let her go as his fingers began to restrict her in a tighter hold. As she tried to pull away from her husband, it only angered him more until he shoved her senseless into a wall. 

“Carlos, you’re drunk. Please, we can talk about this tomorrow.” 

As he continued to saunter towards her in his drunken state, he refused to acknowledge her pleas. 

“Please Carlos.” His fist began to clench, uncaring of how he was the cause for this fearful look across his beautiful wife’s face. “Carlos! This is why I’m leaving you. Look at what you have become!” 

With that, white noise surrounded him until he only remembered liquid pooling around his fists and splattering across his face as he began to throttle his sweet Jessabelle.

Carlos was shocked into the present once more, upheaving what little was in his stomach. The stench of scotch lingered on the dull white carpet in front of him.

His eyes reluctantly returned to the fractured mirror; eyes he hadn’t realised were those he hunted for the last year. A face he hadn’t known was more familiar to him than what he formerly conceived. Those hands which cherished, also the same to destroy.

He looked into the eyes of his killer. And his reflection stared back, a small smile on his lips as if it were their secret to keep. For when he was sober, would he remember that he was his wife’s investigator and executioner?