eyes aginst evil

Heh. I don't kow if anyone is left on this forum. Either way, its a good place to store my ideas so that i can rewrite them later. lol. Whatever. Here's a story about a cop that walks a line that any true person with a sense of justice feels.


Eyes Against Evil

He sits there, watching me. A puff, he breaths in the smoke and keeps it there for a while. Then he lets it out. Smoking is supposes to kill you. It's filled with so much shit, that it's called the slow death.

I've been here for two hours now. Slowly, a smile comes across his face; an evil smile that tells of the last seconds of number seven. His eyes tell me everything I need to know.

He says he's sick. He's been sick since he was a child. He drifted away from the sick fantasy we all have as child, and made them into a reality. He doesn't lie and say that the devil told him to do it or anything like that. He smiles and speaks calmly as if he's been waiting for me.

Seven victims. All female. All fitting the same profile: Young, whores and drug addicts. It's almost as if he wanted to remake the Ripper of England. I look into his face, and wonder if he went beyond the existence of a human, and into that of a beast. The frenzy probably caused him to devour his victims. Some were found with missing parts. His cold smile tells me that I'm not too far off.

He loves to rip them apart. He's a sick sense of humanity, the kind that makes anyone want to take my job. He made loved to his victims after he killed them. He's beyond human in my mind. I hate how calm he's sitting there, smoking his cig.

I tell him about the evidences. I show him the boxes full of evidences against him. He laughs like a madman. I know this is a close case, but the files of the dead run though my mind. Over and over again, like a dream that never goes away, the death and the murder of the women. I know that they were under society, but they were still human, even if all they had left were the flesh. No one deserves to die like that.

I begin to talk about god. The cross on his neck shines like the sun over the savior's dead body upon that fateful day on the cross. He smiles back at me. "Can I have another cig?" he asks. I reach for one and hand it to him. He lights it and takes a deep drag.

"Would Jesus even fuck a whore?" he says.

"Why did you fuck the whores then," I reply.

He laughs again. "When they're dead, Jesus will take them away. I merely rejoice in his work," he answers.

My fist clenches. If this was any other era, this sick bastard would be dead already. If this was a world with any justice, this bastard will be dying and I would be laughing pointing my gun on top his head. But this is a world of freedom, they say; a world where every beast have the rights of man.

"Say what you want. Whether you're sick or not, whether you did god's work or not, it doesn't change the fact that you killed seven women," I say.

I throw my gun upon the table. Then I say, "They say that those that distance themselves from God freeze in the devil's domain. Those that sin and cannot repent. There's one bullet in there. If you want to rot in jail till you die, laugh to the end. But remember this. Those that wait without repentance freeze without God's light."

I turn around with a smile on my face. I saw his fear. I could feel the days of the old. The break of the other officers outside trying to rush into the room catch my eye. It's too late.

Boom! Something warm hits the back of my body. Then I hear a body drop. The other officers rush in pass me, giving me a look. They see the smile on my face. This is justice. This is a world of man. I walk out of the room, and laugh. "Hell has a new soul."