Bleeding Expection by Ada Andrews | #TheWattys2023

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FOUR

STRATOS

It was around five in the morning when, sitting on a bench, I was marvelling at the Memorial of National Reconciliation in Klafthmonos Square ('Square of Cry'). My cigarette was glowing among my fingers. I hadn't smoked since I was in the last year of my university studies at Kapodistrian University, yet the gravity of the situation and the duty I took on made me feel I was carrying a weight. I had to fulfil my mission and take the lid off that psycho's criminal activities. A few miles away from here, the otherworldly lights of Omonoia Square glistened like fireflies, there were very few cars in the streets, and you could make out from a distance the prostitutes and drug dealers plying their illegal trade. That was a hangout familiar with the underworld. Were I in a different capacity, I would arrest and send them to prison, but my identity should not be revealed; at this point, criminals were supposed to be my allies. A car flitted towards Constitution Square. The window was rolled down, the radio playing 'Loneliness' ('Monaxia mou ola') by Pyx Lax at full blast. As the vehicle sped up, it left behind a puff of smoke, along with a reminder as to why I didn't go steady with any woman. My job wouldn't let me take any chances. Still, I couldn't get her gloomy eyes out of my head. Her strength revealed and inspired, while I was trapped inside her truth like a secret slave.

I looked right and left discreetly. The square was empty; you could only hear some sounds. Two trannies were walking towards the bus stop, one of them counting the night's proceeds; across the street, in Korai Square, the shops were locked up, for fear of being vandalised by anarchists; gigolos and hookers came to blows over payment; and the red lights looked like burning stars. Athens was so different by night; it had nothing to do with Socrates' city. It too was desecrated, just like he was when he was forced to drink the hemlock. I made sure nobody was watching me when I ran my hand underneath the bench. I grasped the memory stick with the necessary information. I stuck it in my pocket, flung the cigarette butt, and stood up. I had to go back home to piece together that puzzle from scratch.

I was seated on the kitchen island, sipping my third coffee. I had barely slept for three hours. I had been studying the archive till early in the morning. Then, I had breakfast with Elias and Aphrodite, as usual. There followed my laid-back chat with Daphne at the café. I returned home with the promise of a date in the air. I switched on the telly. Elias's footage was making the rounds. I was so pissed off, I banged my mug against the counter. The crime scene featured on the news. That guy was sick! He killed and slit the industrialist's throat in the living room, drugged his children, who were asleep, and left his poor wife last to play all his insane masochistic games on her. Disgusted, I switched off the television and hopped off the counter. I looked at my computer screen and all the printouts scattered across the floor like a map of an unexplored hidden treasure. I had to find him.

I took hold of my mobile off the table. Checking my recent calls, I dialled my buddy's number.

"Hello?" he answered on the spot.

"Get dressed and drop by. Now!" I ordered.

"Why? What happened again?" he asked curiously.

"Stratos, my boy, leave him alone. He has a life to care about," I heard Aphrodite's voice in my head.

"Tell Aphrodite she had enough of you this morning. How much longer?" I shouted, so that he would hear me. "Get moving. We'll start searching for the psycho! I made the phone calls I needed. Let's begin!"

"I'll be there in thirty minutes."

I put the confidential archives I was sent in several envelopes, changed clothes, and cleaned the table. I'd bury that psycho deep into the ground, no matter what! He wouldn't carry on with that sick game of his! I pressed my temples, bringing to mind every single scene of his crimes. It all began in Psychiko, at Meletopoulos School, in late 2017, on the anniversary of the December riots. Back then, the president and his wife were found killed in the schoolyard early in the morning. Eyewitnesses reported that they were murdered late, after midnight. The forensic results of corpse decomposition confirmed it. Their daughter had a nervous breakdown when she heard it. She was the first to see them when she got in the schoolyard. Back then, we all believed it was someone who lashed back in the wake of Alexis's murder, but it proved to be a storm that hasn't stopped until today. The doorbell rang, bringing me back to the present. I answered and saw my buddy carrying a crate.