© 2024 Richard Taylor
Another episode or bedtime? How long is it? 48 minutes. So I could squeeze one in before midnight. For what that matters. No. Bed.
Safe. Warm and comfy. Away from the world. The outside world. It would be nice if I could just stay here. Away from all that...
There was a bright light behind my eyes. For a fraction of a second. Then a sharp headache for a moment and I felt sick. That was when everything changed. What year was it? Doesn't matter. It was a while ago. No. A long time.
A few weeks later I was attempting some DIY when a Stanley knife slipped and caught my hand. Except it didn't cut me. I was cutting through thick vinyl with it... so I knew it was sharp. I felt the blade touch my hand. But it didn't hurt. Didn't cut. Lucky.
After a month or two I started noticing odd things. My hair, which started going grey in my early 20s, was now getting darker. My back hurt less. And my knees. All small welcome changes, except why? How?
Six months later I started dying my hair grey because it was completely black and people were commenting on my decision to "hide the greys". Did I have a new girlfriend? What was her name? Was she a lot younger than me? Cheek.
I went to the doctor for a check-up. Pretending I was feeling unwell when, in reality, I felt better than I had for many years. Physically. Mentally I was scared. Was this a kind of short-term final flourish? Everything burning up the reserves before finally and suddenly stopping dead.
Two years after the change I bought a walking stick to force me into stooping a little. I looked and felt at my peak, early 30s. Everything was stabilised. I'd done some experimenting and found I was resistant to all kinds of injuries. I was superhuman. How will I use this power?
Hurting bad guys. As long as I'm sure they are bad guys.
Where are they? Under here maybe. So much junk piled up. I ought to clear this out. The rest of the cellar is quite tidy now. How come I never get to this part? Is that the box? No. Damn it.
This date rings a bell. Can't quite place it. Something from college days? Yes. Was it the day I went back? After the end. Tidying up all that mess. It got sorted, properly. All done. Nothing to see. Move along, please.
That professor who hated me. Why was that? What did I do? What did he do? Why was she involved too? It's all so foggy, now. There were reasons. Good reasons. It was a mess. It had to be sorted out. And I sorted it? Didn't I?
I killed him. I planned it. I went back and killed him. He's in the cellar. Under the floor. Under the junk. Hidden. No-one found him. No-one suspected me. Why? What was it about? Why did I kill him? Why did I do that?
What if he's found? How did I hide him? Best leave him where he is. Yes. Safe there. It's been a long time. No-one cares now. I can't even remember much of it myself. In the past. Done with. Forget it ever happened. Move on.
But why? That's the nagging doubt. Was it right? I must have been right. There must have been a good reason for it. I wouldn't. I couldn't. Could I? How could I? What did he do to me? What did he do to her? Does she know I killed him?
A brick. I hit him with a brick. So I could break it up and dispose of it, too. But how did I get him here? It's a long way. Did I have my car by then? The old Cavalier. The blue one? No, that was after. The rusty red one. Or was it the other way round? Where did I kill him? Did he come here?
I hit him. He fell. Hit him once. That was all it took. He was a weak man.
Bad guys. I can hurt them now. Badly. Kill them if I have to. Walk in and take them down. Nothing they can do. Fighting back wont save them. I can't be hurt. No-one I love is left. They can't find a Lois Lane or an Aunt May or kill my dog.
Where to start? Drug dealers? People traffickers? Gangs? I don't know much about them. Research needed. I have time. Lots of time. Find the worst of the worst and start with them. Kill them. In front of their cronies. Scare the crap out of the whole crew. Put them back on the straight and narrow. Let them know they are dead if they don't.
Collateral damage. Must avoid it. No innocents can be hurt. I have to stand for justice. Infallible. No-one wrongly punished. Mitigation? What if someone is being coerced? Research. I need to study the perps. Thoroughly. No mistakes. Study hard, deliberate, judge and execute the guilty. Yes. Only kill the bad guys.
But everyone makes mistakes. Who am I to judge? I will slip up eventually. Someone will die or be hurt that shouldn't. Need to face that. Can I live with it? Can I justify it? Could I continue knowing I was a flawed vigilante? Can I even start knowing that point will come? Surely there are some people so evil that the world is a better place without them? Can't I just take them out and stop?
I can always restart if a new evil emerges. But would I have created that evil by giving it space to grow? Better the devil you know? All things are interconnected. Who said that? Kill all the wolves and the deer destroy all the trees. Balance. Maybe we need the villains? The wolves.
Who am I to decide?
I went back and killed him. He's in the cellar. Under the floor? How did I do that? The whole floor used to flood regularly. Before the walls were sealed. The workmen. They didn't find anything. They dug up the floor. Why didn't they find him? Why did I let them dig there?
And what did he do? I can't remember. It must have been bad. But he wasn't a bad man. He was annoying. We disagreed. Argued, about something. This was college, you are supposed to argue about things. You don't kill professors for arguing. He wasn't even the teacher I clashed most with.
The prize. He won that prize for lifetime achievement. It was ridiculous. There were plenty of other people who deserved it more. My tutor for one. I remember talking about it with her at the 25 year reunion. She was a stoic. Said her time would come. But she died soon after. I went to the funeral. Wasn't that recently?
How was he still alive? He's under my cellar. He can't win a prize and give a twisted speech thanking all the people who should have actually won it. He's alive. He won. He did the speech. I remember.
I remember feeling dread in that cellar. Often. Not always. How will I deal with it when he's found? They are always found. Except he's alive. I didn't kill anyone. I didn't do anything. Or was there something else?
Every mistake I make becomes such a big deal. Over and over again. Why didn't I do this? Why did I do that? If only I'd said something like... Should have walked away. Should have stood firm.
But I can't have killed him. He's still alive.
Rain. Heavy rain. Why did I walk in this? Don't I have a perfectly good car? I have a completely waterproof coat too, at home. I'm soaked. Completely. Wet through. What am I going to say?
Come on. Please answer the door. There might still be a tiny patch of dry on me somewhere. Oh my word. She's wearing a bathrobe. Her hair is wet. Clinging to her face like auburn ribbons. Framing her smile. An awkward smile, though.
Don't we have an appointment today? Did I get the wrong time? Oh, cancelled. I'm sorry, I didn't check before I set off. I usually do. Sorry, I'll go. I can see you are getting ready to go out?
Well, yes I would like to come in for a minute. Maybe the rain will ease soon. It is rather cold. Caught me out, yes. What? You meant to cancel but forgot. No problem. No, I wont charge you. It's an easy mistake to make.
Your kitchen is nice. Sorry about the puddle on the floor.
Stop saying sorry, you idiot. This isn't the first time you've been alone with a beautiful woman wearing only a bathrobe while you are soaking wet. Yes, I suppose falling in the river is a bit different.
Tea? Yes, please. She has very nice legs. Don't stare.
Tumble dryer? Well, if it's no trouble. Oh, that's it there. Now? OK.
Does she realise that all my clothes are wet? Should I just put the top layer in? Oh, she can see, it's obvious. Yes, all wet. Do it. What's the worst that could happen?
She might laugh? She's smiling. Undoing the belt on the bathrobe. Slipping it off her shoulders. Letting it fall to the ground. That is a very beautiful woman. She's coming over.
A second before we touch, I feel the heat of her body.
Huh? Oh. Alarm. Get up.