Skin

Chapter One.

" You're Welcome." he had mouthed to her.

She had smiled at him, brushing a blonde curl behind her ear. Her blue eyes sparkled mischievously, and she bit at the end of her pencil. Smiling, Bill returned his attention to the board. He could still feel her gaze on him, but when he had looked back, she was staring straight ahead.

Smiling, he had done the same.

***

" You know, Bill, We know you dealt with a similar experience-"

The lights are off in the rest of the warehouse, and the weak lighting from the single overhead light casts shadows against Bill's face. He listens silently, his hands in his trenchcoat pockets.

'' Yes.''

The short, stout man opens his mouth, ready to say something else to convince him further, but he stops short in surprise. " W-What?"

" I'll do it." He says quickly, glancing around the dark, abandoned warehouse. A rat scurries across his foot, and he moves his foot behind him. Those words had left an almost sour taste in his mouth, but it had to be done. Otherwise, they would have never left him alone.

" O-Of course! I knew you'd do it." the man recovers himself quickly, adjusting his hat on his bald head.

' Of course, you did,' the Stoney voice in Bill's head replies. But he says nothing as the man pulls a notepad out from the inside of his coat pocket, scribbling something on it. He tears it off quickly, the sound deafening in the empty space. He holds it out, triumphantly. An address is scribbled on it, and he can see how nervous the man truly was in his presence. The pencil had dug rather deeply into the paper, and he could feel the marks of the letters with his fingers through the thin paper. He tucks it inside his coat delicately, not taking his eyes off of the shorter, but older man.

His eyes flitter around nervously. " Now, Billy-"

" My names Bill."

She was the only one who could call him Billy.

" Bill." He continues on, hurriedly. Embarrassed. " We understand your case hasn't been solved- but maybe with you working on this one, it may give you some ideas."

"Ideas for what?"

Sara's case had been plain and simple. She had been brutally murdered in her home, one night just a few hours after seeing him. Everything had been normal. He showed up, he gave her flowers. They talked about class, he helped her with her work. They had then made love in her little room, underneath the flowered bedspread she had had since she was thirteen. Underneath the LED lights and her medals with her Awards of Achievements, she had won over the years.

He had left almost an hour or so later, before shortly being called in for questioning. And now, as the man in the funny hat looks at him, cautiously, like how pray may look towards a potential predator, he feels the anger returning. Throughout this meet, he had tried to keep him cool. He had kept his face mutual and his voice cold.

Of course, you knew.

He was a detective now. They felt if he worked on the latest case they had that was eerily similar to his own, he could help them catch Sara's killer. They obviously felt they were doing him a favor- expecting him to jump up for joy.

But, they were wrong.

They don't know. The voice in his head said.

'Shut up,' he thought. The man is saying something, but he can't hear him. The voice has taken over.

They don't know what you went through after she died.

It's true- they didn't. He had lied his way to good standards through the weeks following Sara's death.

You're pathetic.

He was better now. After he got sent away, he had come back ready to move on.

At least, that's what he wanted people to think.

You still hide it from them. Do you think they haven't seen the tests? The well-being checkup records? You were almost never somber, and you smoked like a chimney. It's no wonder they can't see it in your face how much of an effect that's taken on you. Even after all these years, you still take drugs so you don't dream.

The man is looking at him, and he nods. " Yes," he says, not even knowing if it was the right answer. The man smiles, satisfied. " Good, I'll see you tomorrow at nine, then."

Great. He had just agreed to another appointment.

But, he forces a smile and nods. " Sounds good."

With that, the man seems to relax. Bill's shoulders hurt. He's been so tense this whole time- no wonder why the guy looked ready to bolt. If he knew what Bill did- that would explain why he looked like he was ready to run at a moment's notice.

He probably had 911 on speed dial right now, waiting to need to push that button.

Bill holds his hand out stiffly, and the man looks at it, surprised. It is literally a few inches away from his nose. Slowly, he raises his hand. He grasps it firmly for a few moments, eyes uncertain.

Break his hand.

Bills muscles in his hand twitch, his hand tightens briefly over the mans. The man's eyes widen, bulging out of his head. He grins down at the man. Then, he drops his hand to his side, sticking it in his pocket. The man's eyes are wide, and he mutters something hurriedly, before straightening his hat and scurrying away into the darkness. A door closes, echoing around him.

Smiling, hands in his pockets, Bill takes the blade out. He flicks it open, smiling. The dim light reflects off the blade as he tilts it, admiring the blade. The sound of a mouse scurrying over boxes cuts through the fog in his brain.

He looks around, cautiously, before flicking the blade closed, and placing it inside his coat.