Death Uncertain

The cataclysmic event that took place in the local police station a month ago still hasn't been resolved.

It was not just about figuring out what happened but also about the repairs. There was also the question of why? For someone who had been there that night and survived, people would assume I had the answer. In reality my mind held more questions than the leeching detectives and the FBI agents hanging around.

Broken glass still littering the sidewalks, the yellow tape circling the place and the traces of blood one could observe even from quite a distance. If they were trying to hide it, they weren't doing a well enough job.

Perhaps they had trouble getting all the bodies out. There were a lot of them, perhaps the whole of the staff had been wiped out completely.

But that was not the case since I am here. Thankfully and woefully, I wasn't the only one.

At this point I am scared to admit that I wanted someone to be alive just so they could plead me not guilty in the court. Because even the stupidest of stupid would know that the initial blame would fall on my head.

Taking a huge sigh in the cold December air I crossed the road and ducked through the tape.

"Hey you can't be here!?" Carson yelled from somewhere. "Oh, it's you." The dissatisfaction on his face and words was slightly unnerving.

He sat on one of the cleaner desks and chewed on a sandwich. The spilled cup of coffee was there as usual. Perhaps he does it intentionally since cleaning up is my job.

"The broom's in the back closet, wash it before using it, " he stood up and stretched. His portruding belly almost making me gag. "I heard the people are finally getting on cleaning the interrogation room."

With a pat on my back, whose intention was to probably wipe the crumbs off his hand, officer Carson, the only person to survive the incident with me, left the building with a smile on his face.

That man had disgusted me from the start.

Trying not to touch anything, I took my jacket off and made way to the back closet. As I opened it I couldn't help but gag for real.

Carson was right, they were cleaning the interrogation room and the state of the cleaning supplies were awful. The smell was downright inhumane.

Looking through the drawers for some gloves, since touching that monstrosity with my bare hands seemed like a disgusting alternative.

I turned the sink on and the sound filled the silence.

As some of the frozen red liquid flowed down the drain. I couldn't help but think about that night. Lately that was all that I seemed to be doing.

Officer Drake had brought in a suspicious looking man in an ebony trench coat. I was organizing case files on the side and only got a glimpse of him.

He seemed fairly old with a white beard and equally white hair. The officer showed no mercy even with the man's age.

It was hard getting used to police life.

Many moments passed before the officer arrived at my desk in a slightly shaken appearance.

"I have a favor to ask of you, rookie, " he said it like a demand and in these situations people like us have no choice.

The interrogation room had a strong metal door with a small grated window to peek in and a hatch at the bottom to slide in food. Set beside it was a small chair.

"Sit here and do not move till I come back," he ordered with the stricken face he gives to everyone, "is that clear, rookie?"

"Yes, sir," I nodded diligently. What could go wrong at this job I had thought.

Oh, what a naive fool I was a month ago.

I scrolled through my phone paying more attention to the countless popup ads instead of the actual site when a small, hoarse voice sounded through.

"Water," it said.

I stopped and couldn't dare move an inch or speak.

"Water," it croaked again.

The shred of humanity in me wanted to give him a cup of water. The cooler was right beside me, but if this was something that should not be done than the job I had gotten with so much effort would go down the drain.

"Water."

This time I couldn't help it. I slid the cup filled of water down through the hatch. Not daring to look through the window.

It sounded as if he gulped it down in one go. He slid the paper cup back through.

I filled it up and pushed it through again. The result was the same.

I thought about doing it for the third time but officer Drake's voice scared me to my core. Throwing the cup away I sat in my position like nothing happened.

He dismissed me with a cold shoulder and I went back to rearranging paper. It was close to five in the evening and I thought it would be a normal day as always. That was till the screaming kicked in.

Horrifying heart wrenching screams.

"What's going on?" Someone asked but no one answered.

Heavy footsteps came closer and closer to the office. The door tore off it's hinges and as a frightened reflex I hid under my desk. Hugging my knees as I heard cut, slashes, wet thuds and screams all mixed together. There was some gunshots but they were silenced quickly.

A heavy scent hung around the room. My heart wanted to fly out my chest with the way it was beating.

I was terrified and the face that peeked over my desk staring directly at me, nearly had me going into a fit.

I breathed heavily and was frozen in place wide eyed watching the wrinkled and blood covered face of the man staring at me upside down.

I thought I was surely going to die but all he did was give a smile and retreat. I wasn't able to move till the FBI arrived. For me it was pure horror. Something that had traumatized me and will haunt me for life.

With a shake of the head I can back to present. I wiped away the coffee clean and was on my way to put the broom back when I glanced out the broken glass.

He stood there, between the crowd of passersby. Still and not completely but blending in.

The broom fell on the floor with a crash. It was a miracle how I was still standing.

Instead of the trench coat he now wore a hood but it was slightly swept back. As if to show his smile. As if he knew that it was imprinted on my mind.

My heart beat through my chest as he raised his finger and pointed at me. He murmured something, then vanished into thin air. No smoke no trace.

I was not crazy. Maybe I was.

Silent tears streamed down my face as I fell to the floor.

That was not a hallucination, was it?

Why did he spare me? Because of the water? Not possible, but who was I to know. In the moment, or perhaps the rest of my life, the new found paranoia in me as well as the terror of that man will remain, even if he seeks me out or not.