Stairway to Darkness

I felt good today, better than I had in a long time. My meds sat in silent accusation on my kitchen table, untouched now for days. But, I felt good.

Grabbing my badge, I clipped it to my belt as I slipped my Glock 17 into the waist band of my jeans. I should have thought it odd, it’s weight, or lack thereof but hindsight’s 20/20. One last glance toward my kitchen table before slamming my front door shut. I didn't have time to think about it or stew on it. We had a new case. I wasted no time climbing behind the wheel of my black SUV and accelerated as fast as the roads would allow to get me back to Quantico. The drive felt fresh, new even… Strange no other cars were fighting to make their way to start the day, but I was so focused on getting the two miles down the road, the thought floated and never even processed.

Scanning my credentials through the front gate was as repetitive as brushing teeth, just like walking through the main bullpen area. The conference room sat squarely in the middle, sporting one long table and a coffee cart off to the side. I walked in the room to find the team seated. Five people including me and my partner, Special Agent Lucas Rogers. At the top, our Special Agent in Charge, Raina Fields. Gorgeous. No nonsense. With both admiring yet intimidating personalities at the same time, which was just a fancy way to say she was scary. Jose Ruiz, our tech genius and Krystal Lett, our lab rat. Gangs all here.

"Five murders. Different genders. Different Races. Different backgrounds." Raina passed around the crime scene photos, which were posed all differently, but specific to each victim. "We can't find one common denominator linking our victims. Not one," she said her voice becoming frustrated.

"They’re all posed specifically." My brows creased. “Has their social media been checked?” I asked.

"First thing on the list." Jose responded on a sigh.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Krystal checking her nails looking bored. Things started getting weird.

“They were all killed differently, serial killers tend to have the same MO.” I said carefully.

“Yep.” My long time partner agreed. “Shot, stabbed, strangled, poisoned, drowning.”

“That is his MO, isn’t it?” I pondered. “Killing people in different ways?”

Rogers chewed his gum. “I suppose you’re right.”

Again, I scanned the room, it was if they were letting me do all the theorizing. Their behavior seemed off. I was about to say something when Raina stepped in.

“Alright, follow that lead, find out if we get any leads in VICAP, perhaps there are more victims out there on this guy we have no idea about. Jose, check into social media and start preparing victimology, Krystal, if there are any forensics, follow it… You guys know the drill.”

Everyone, let out a dull “Yes, ma’am”

I nodded, my brows crinkling. I grabbed up the crime scene photo’s, oblivious to the word ‘creative commons’ printed in almost transparent fine print in the top right hand corner, the naked eye would never have seen it without a magnifying glass. I went to my desk, Rogers walking close. He sat in his chair, shoulders hunched. I plopped the files on my desk, only to find a little black book sitting there, ominously overshadowing everything else. For some reason as soon as my eyes locked onto it, I knew something bad followed. My stomach churned. Rogers didn’t move again. I sat down and opened it up… That little black book of mine. Now, nothing makes sense. My hand writing, my words, my world… all the delusions of a Paranoid Schizophrenic. In another life I could have been a good Fed, I reckon. Just not this one. This one, I only get to pretend, and all these people have to play along because my family pay an obscene amount of money to indulge this new ‘therapy’. I’m having an 'episode'? Which means I've gone off my meds and I'm really not feeling good… All these dates? So many times I go off my meds, play out my delusions until I read my little black book. I can feel the weight of their stares but avoid looking at anyone. I don’t want anyone’s pity. I flip through the many times we’ve played this game. Too many.

I guess I'm supposed to add a new entry now with todays date. I'm supposed to go home, start my meds again. Yeah, I suppose I can do that. It all feels so real in my head. But, I guess it's not, is it?