MORPHEUS

The Visitor

"Still not giving me any clues are you?"

After four long months, I finally had the courage to visit you. I wiped the withered leaves on top of your grave. Wanting to cry but the tears don't come. Even though before I went here I imagined bawling ny eyes out seeing you. A mere slab of stone  separated us forever. In the end you're still the one who saves me. Though the reason behind your killings still remains as a mystery to me. You were always aloof and reserved but I thought you were just built that way. 

Timothy Marsh it read on your tombstone.

Gone too soon but will always be remembered.

A generic epitaph for an extraordinary man. The boy from my childhood and the man of the future I can no longer have. 

"We talk about everything and anything under the sun. Spending time from dusk 'til dawn. Though you were not able to tell me about the monsters that hide under your bed. The cob webs you'd stare for so long when you're thinking about something. Yet I saw them all the same. I was used to being close to you yet keeping a safe distance so you wouldn't notice. But I'm regretting it now. A lot of maybes and what ifs filled my head. But all of them are just phantoms now that you're gone."

Taking off my worn out denim jacket and flattened it in the newly trimmed bermuda grass. Giving it a soft mattress feel as I sit on it. Still wearing it even if my hands are a quarter pass the sleeves. I literally grown out of them. Obviously it would be shorter since it was a gift you gave me on my fourteenth birthday. It's been four years. 

I rummaged through my brown leather sling bag ang took out a can of beer and raising it against the fleeting sunlight. As if holding out a staring game is making any sense. Yet I still did for the heck of it. It's about to get dark soon.  

"This is in room temperature just the way you like it," I glanced on your way seeing you're sitting there as well, "Even though I always liked it chilled  I think it's growing on me," I scoffed bitterly as the mirage of you fades into the wind. "You're already six feet under but you're still haunting me."

I was able to finish all three cans of beer that I brought.  "I need to head out now Tim. Probably will bury myself in books as well. At least that way I can kill time faster and probably escape my reality without you for a couple of hours."  I shove all the cans in a black plastic then pick up my jacket. Making sure I don't leave something behind or else it would be a spooky destination to comeback to. 

Right on time after I stood up, lamp post begin to light up. It's yellow light sets the mood for the eerie feel of the cemetery. As I look at the nearest lamp moths flutter around it. One getting to close got burned and fell to the ground. I also imagine if there was someone bigger  than you. That someone hired you to become the fall guy.

"That is possible," I told myself and finally dragged my feet to start walking away for real this time. Then I encountered a man with a black hoodie and grey sweatpants. Probably going to have his evening jog.  It has become a trend these days. The irony of getting vitally feet in the place of the dead. "What an insult," I was meaning it for myself but just two meters away he stops to look past his right shoulder.

"Were you talking to me?"

I rolled my eyes, "what gives you that idea?"

He scoffs definitely belittling me. 

"If you've got something to say, use actual words not just sounds."

Then he just went ahead ignoring me and resumed his jog. While I was too damned to argue either. So instead of asking for a fight, I just slammed the pack of cans on the trash bin. The clanking sound echoed from metal to metal. 

"You just got lucky I am not in the mood tonight."

I hopped on my scooter that is parked near the gutter and pick up the helmet hanging from the left side mirror and wore it. Then  inserted the key at the ignition and twisting it. Flipping the electric engine button while squeezing the throttle with the breaks to rev up the engine. When all is set I drove away to the campus library.

***

The next day was just another mundane activity for me. As usual I dragged myself to every class I had. It was our elective class most of my classmates started leaving already. Though I didn't notice the teachers already switch since I fell asleep the whole period. Got so engrossed to reading last night, it was almost ten in the evening when I left the library. I even borrowed more books to read. Finished all of them at around two in the morning. Only slept four hours since I had the six o'clock class earlier. 

I was getting ready to leave as well when I get to listen to what the teacher was talking about. It was about you. The infamous case of an eighteen year old serial killer. I clenched my fists as I continued to listen even if I cursed every word that gets out of his mouth.

"This professor surely has his biases," I whispered to my seat mate who was about a foot away from me. 

She continues staring at the professor looking dreamy then replies, "he's not the professor but he's hot visitor," squealing without even looking at me.

I rolled my eyes and began arranging my things. Standing up  ready to leave then that annoying guy roughly in his early thirties called out to me. "What an insult is it to walk away during a discussion...don't you think Ms. Marsh?"

I bit my lower lip in frustration and glared at him at the same time. Realization washes over me. While I put my palms on my face and washed it with humiliation.

That's why his words and voice seemed familiar. 

I purposely slamming the book I've been holding for a while now, making sure he hears the loud thud. Then I sat down, this time dragging the chair to interrupt his discussion.

He clears his throat without averting his gaze at me. "For those who missed my introduction earlier because some of you slept through your previous class. My name is Lance Wayward. I work with the city's crime division as a detective. For the next four weeks I will briefly discuss with you about criminal instincts and it's impact to society. Benefitting your reference in mystery writing," he lengthily explains.

This time I raised my hand that earned weird glances from the remaining students in the room but I couln't care less.  "With all due respect Mr. Wayward can I step out of class?" The edge of his lip twinges proof that I made a relevant move scratching the surface of his turf. Though he instantly composes himself and gestures me to continue. "Because I don't like you and I won't learn unless we have a different instructor," I finished with a smug look on my face.

"Sure," he replies turning his staight face into a sinister smile, "your grades will not be affected rest assured because they are already staggeringly low to start with."

I became a laughing stock in front of everybody. He's going to rue the day he messed with me. I faked a laugh and scanned him from head to toe, saving my pride. "If I top your class would you quit your job as a sign of defeat?"

With that his right brow arched. I didn't allow him to intimidate me either so I crossed my arms also gaging his presence.

"Your move," both of us replied that made the tension rise in the air earning a gulp from the other students with the woman next to me included. 

"You're dismissed, see you next meeting," as if on cue the bell rings. 

I did not waste any second and walk towards the door. 

"Throw your garbage properly next time," he adds before I manage to pass the threshold. I didn't look back and head straight to the corridor and go right to the nearest rest room in the building.

Entering a cubicle and lock it right away before screaming my lungs out in utter annoyance.

"Of all the places, why here at school? Of all the people, why him?" 

Then pulled a handful of my hair and  I kicked the cubicle. After I vented out my anger I stayed still for another ten minutes and decided to go out and wash my face. Feeling the cold water soothed my skin that somehow calmed me only to be ignited again. When I walk out from the rest room I saw someone on my peripheral vision. As I faced to my left he confirmed my suspicion. He was leaning against the wall while crossing his arms and staring at me with contempt.

What's his deal?