This is the last part. As you all know, I started this by wanting to create a murderer, and took the opportunity during a creative writing assignment in this writing club I'm in. Then it took on a life of its own. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it, and as mean as it sounds, I hope it makes you cry haha. This book reminds of Romeo and Juliet, for Rodger and Dawn are simply not meant to be together, but in this story it's death that separates them.
Officer John Houston stormed up the hospital stairs, trying, and failing, to keep his emotions in check. He couldn't believe after all these years had passed he hadn't noticed a thing. Walking next to him was Buddy, an officer that John was often paired with. Buddy was a bit inexperienced, and often acted foolishly, but his heart was in the right place. He may not think, but because he didn't waste the energy using his brain Buddy hardly slept, and worked twice as hard.
John's teeth were gnarling together in pure rage. He should be happy-joyous even-but the betrayal was so bitter it overlapped everything else. Damn it! He cursed in his head. He couldn't believe he had been tricked so easily, and for so long. He never thought himself a fool, but right now he certainly looked like an ass. He had comforted that son of a bitch! Right after he had mercilessly slaughtered his own parents! He never even considered that the murderer had been so close to him. Hell, he even considered Rodger a friend. And Rodger had led him on, a fox in chicken's clothing, dancing around him and killing as he may.
But no more would he be made a fool by Rodger! When he had visited Rodger last, in his home, John's had a feeling in his gut, an instinct knowledge that Rodger was holding back, that he wasn't telling the truth, that there was something more to him than he appeared. But he just thought that he was being ridiculous. He had known Rodger for so long! There was no way he could be a murderer. A little disturbed from his parents' death, perhaps, but certainly not a murderer. Then the bodies were found, and the profile was created. After that, there was no smidge in John's mind that Rodger was the killer. And as soon as he had Rodger's DNA and fingerprints (they had lost those from his parents' investigation), Rodger would be his. John would have the pleasure of smacking a pair of handcuffs around Rodger's wrists and leading him where he belonged-a prison cell. Try as he may, he couldn't find an ounce of compassion for the killer he had known for so long. Rodger was too evil to deserve any sympathy.
John approached a desk, and smiled at the receptionist. "Excuse me." He implored. "But do you know where Dawn Harding's room is?" he had already checked Rodger's house to find it empty, and Dawn's apartment, in addition, was empty. In a frenzy, he called all the hospitals as well as a few other places in the hope that he would get lucky. And there she was, here. Hopefully the murdering bastard would be here with her.
"Room 101." She told him after looking it up.
John smiled as a thank you and strolled down the hospital's hallway. Poor girl. Dawn. She probably didn't even know her boyfriend was a murderer. They had to get her out of his clutches quickly, before he sought to end her life. Who knows the kinds of wicked games he had played with her in the meantime.
The door to Dawn's room was closed. John bit his lip. If Rodger really was here, it was possible that he could have spotted John. John motioned to Buddy, pulled out a revolver, and kicked open the door. He ran inside, gun raised, then froze. The gun fell to the tile floor, spinning. Buddy followed him, and was motionless as well as he surveyed the hospital room.
Two bodies were huddled together, swimming in blood. The stench of rust and salt hit him like a bullet, and John covered his nose. They were so covered with the red paint John had trouble deciphering who they were. But after a moment he distinguished Rodger's corpse. The other had to be his girlfriend.
A nurse walked in, then screamed and ran out. John followed her.
"Do you know what happened?" he asked.
She shook her head, tremors shaking her body, gagging. "I had no idea...they were even dead!"
"When was the last time you checked up on them?"
"Maybe fifteen minutes ago." She replied.
"And is the woman Dawn?"
She nodded. "I didn't get a good look, but I'm pretty sure."
He touched her shoulder as comfort and returned to the room. He scrutinized the two bodies. They seemed intertwined almost, like one large person with twice as many limbs and two heads. It was a death embrace, but also....a loving embrace. He wasn't sure why it seemed loving, but there was no other way to describe it. They seemed...like they died in love.
John touched the small beard that was beginning to grow on his face. It was possible. Certainly, this girl was different from the others, for he felt the need to kill himself afterwards. Something was different than the other murders, though John could only take a stab at what. He poked his head outside the door, and found the nurse that had walked in on the corpses.
"Excuse me." He said. "Do you know why Miss Harding was in the hospital?"
"She was admitted because she tried to kill herself." The nurse explained. "But she was kept here because she had cancer."
"Was it terminal?"
"Yes."
"Thank you." John returned once more to the crime scene.
"I found a gun!" Buddy sounded excitedly. "Look!" he waved it at him.
"Idiot!" John hissed. "Don't touch it! You just ruined the fingerprints!" Not that it mattered. Clearly Rodger was the killer. "Put it back where you found it. And show me where you found it."
Buddy placed the gun on a table next to the bed. John's eyes detected a piece of paper. He approached it, then picked it up, studying the words with a frown. It said:
Houston, I hope it's you that finds this. Because you deserve it.
-Rodger
Surely what Rodger hoped him to find was the gun. It was practically a confession, addressed specifically to him. Perhaps this was some sort of sign that he felt guilt or remorse, or that he at least owed the victims closure and John an answer? John glanced over at the bodies again. There really was something warm in their embrace. Dawn had cancer, and had tried to kill herself once. So she must have wanted to die, or was suffering from depression. Was it coincidence that someone that wanted to die found something that loved to kill?
There was no such thing as coincidence. John knew that now. So Dawn must have asked Rodger to kill her at some point. That seemed likely. Someone that wanted to die was desperate enough for relief to cease to care where that relief comes from. Even from the hands of a killer. But then why would Rodger kill himself after?
"Did anyone visit Dawn a lot before she passed?" John yelled to the nurse still gagging in the hall.
She nodded. "Yes. A man. I don't know who he was, but he almost never left her side."
"What did he look like?"
"Dark hair, pale, muscular, tall." She thought for a moment. "Kind of mysterious."
That was Rodger all right. John turned his attention back to the corpses. Rodger was with Dawn constantly while she was in the hospital. That didn't sound like someone that wanted to kill her. That sounded like someone that cared deeply about her. John remembered that look on Rodger's face when he mentioned his girlfriend, Dawn. He looked happy for a split second while they talked. Could it be possible? Could Rodger have loved her? Loved her enough to agree to kill her? Could this be what she wanted, not what he wanted?
It seemed too strange. And yet, somehow, it fit. It explained why they died hugging each other so tightly. John cocked his head, a sudden sadness drifting over him. They were in love. She wanted him to end her pain from the cancer. Rodger agreed, then killed himself because he couldn't live without her. John smiled, though it looked out of place. This was a display of love. Of true, pure love, love that was a bit twisted, yes, but still love.
"Do you think they're together?" he asked Buddy.
Buddy stared at him, confused. What he saw was a man that had slain his victim then, like a coward, killed himself. But, in reality, it was she who was the coward, he who was the slain victim. If it wasn't for her, he would probably still be alive.
Yet by this act, by this murder, strangely enough Rodger had proven himself as a compassionate human being. John felt himself hoping they were together. Somewhere. Hopefully death wasn't as cruel as life, and they could finally find peace. "These violent delights have violent ends," John muttered, quoting Romeo and Juliet. "and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, which, as they kiss, consume."
The End
A Love to Kill
2/11/2021: Hello! So it's been a while and I'm back. A lot has changed with me, but I do want to get back into writing again. I do have a problem though. I have the final version of this story completed. I tried to upload it to amazon but the way I formatted did not work. If anyone can fix it, I would VERY much appreciate it. Send me a message. Otherwise, I'm not really sure what to do with it. I might post the final version or I might add it to my Patreon. I don't know. Comment or message if you have any ideas. Thanks, and I hope you've enjoyed this.