The Arbiter

when monsters are born

“Finch! Finch!! Finch!!!” Lucy’s voice filled the office, sharp but hollow in my ears.

I was sitting at my desk, staring at nothing. The phone still rested in my hand, cold and heavy, like it carried death itself.

Lucy hurried in. “Alister… are you hearing me?” Her voice softened when she saw my face.

I blinked, trying to steady my breath. My coat was half-off, my hands trembling as I dropped the receiver.

“You look pale… like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said, moving closer, her worry clear in her eyes.

“I’m fine,” I muttered, forcing the words out. “Just… too much blood today.”

Lucy shook her head. “No. This isn’t about surgery. Something happened. Tell me.”

I rubbed my face, leaning back in the chair. The weight in my chest was crushing. “Not now, Lucy,” I whispered. “Not now.”

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the sound of the clock ticking on the wall.

But deep inside, I knew it already—nothing about my life would ever be the same after that call.

“I refuse to believe it,” I muttered to myself, shaking my head as I stumbled out of my chair. The walls of my office suddenly felt too small, the air too heavy.

“Finch! Finch!! Finch!!!” Lucy’s voice echoed behind me, urgent and hollow, but I couldn’t stop.

I pushed through the door, my steps frantic. “It can’t be true… it can’t,” I whispered, almost pleading with myself, as though the words alone could bend reality.

Lucy hurried after me, her heels striking the floor. “Alister, stop! What’s going on? Talk to me!”

I didn’t answer. My chest was tight, every breath shallow, as I rushed through the hospital corridor. Nurses and patients turned their heads, but their faces blurred into nothing.

“Not Kate… not Julia,” I rasped, my voice cracking as I shoved open the exit doors. My legs moved on instinct, carrying me faster than thought.

“Finch!” Lucy called again, her voice breaking this time, but I was already running—running toward the parking lot, toward my car, toward the only people who mattered.

“No… no, I won’t believe it,” I told myself as I yanked open the car door. “They’re fine. They have to be fine.”

But somewhere, deep in my gut, I knew—denial was the only thread keeping me from shattering.

I slammed my foot on the gas, the engine roaring as I sped off, the same words echoing in my head—it isn’t true… it can’t be true. Then, without warning, a smile tugged at my lips. I didn’t even know why. Maybe it was madness, maybe denial. Or maybe it was just my mind’s desperate way of refusing to believe the nightmare I had just heard.

I weaved recklessly through traffic, every horn and screech fading into the background. From a distance, I saw it—the flashing lights, the barricade of yellow tape fluttering in the wind. My chest tightened. Beyond the crowd and officers stood a burnt-out vehicle, its twisted frame still hissing smoke. My hands clenched the wheel as the truth pressed down on me like a vice. Had something really happened to Kate and Julia?

I slammed the brakes, tires screeching against the asphalt, and bolted from the car. A crowd had already gathered, murmuring, their faces pale with morbid curiosity. My eyes locked on the scene—two black body bags laid side by side. My heart stopped.

I pushed forward, but a pair of officers blocked my path, arms outstretched.

“Sir, you can’t go in—”

“Let me in!” I roared, my voice cracking with desperation. I fought against their grip, every muscle in my body trembling as my eyes strained toward the bags. “Please… let me in!”

“She’s my wife! That’s my daughter!” I shouted, my voice breaking, tears burning down my face. My chest heaved as I struggled against the officer’s grip.

Another officer approached, his expression heavy with pity. “Are you Dr. Finch? I called you earlier,” he asked quietly.

I nodded, barely able to breathe, my heart tearing itself apart inside me.

“Let him through,” the officer instructed.

The crowd fell silent, their eyes fixed on me—not with malice, but with that hollow stare people give when they’re grateful it isn’t them. Their pity felt like knives.

I ran forward, stumbling toward the two black body bags, and the weight of it all crushed me to the ground. My knees hit the pavement hard, but I didn’t feel the pain. This was real. My world had ended.

“No… no, God, please, no…” My voice cracked as I dragged myself to the bags. My trembling hands reached for the zipper of the first one, but a medic rushed forward, catching my wrist.

“I’m sorry—you don’t want to do that,” a soft, familiar voice said. I looked up through blurred tears. It was Susan, a blonde nurse from St. Andrews. Her eyes were already red, sympathy etched across her face.

“I want to see them!” I roared, my voice raw, breaking under the weight of grief.

She swallowed hard, her hand still gently holding mine. “Are you sure, Doctor?” Her tone carried genuine fear for me, as if she knew what the truth would do to me.

“I want to see them!” I cried again, louder this time, my throat burning, my chest heaving.

Susan hesitated, then slowly nodded. “Okay… but prepare yourself.”

With trembling hands, I pulled down the zipper. The sight that met me shattered whatever strength I had left.

“Oh God…” My voice broke into a whisper, before collapsing into a scream. “No! No, no, no, no!”

Kate. My Kate. Burned so badly she was barely recognizable. My chest caved in, and the sound that tore out of me was not human—it was the howl of a man watching his soul being ripped apart. I crumpled forward, sobbing into the pavement like a child, powerless to stop the flood of anguish.

I couldn’t summon the strength to touch Julia’s bag. My hands shook violently, frozen in midair. Susan crouched beside me, her voice gentle but urgent.

“Hey… you don’t have to do this again,” she whispered, her eyes wet, pleading with me not to put myself through more torment.

Her words barely reached me. Instead, memories came rushing in—the warmth of Kate’s lips that morning, her voice telling me to eat, Julia’s laughter as she bounced around in excitement for her first ballet class. The images were so vivid, so alive, that they crushed me even deeper.

My chest tightened, and then suddenly… I laughed. It burst out of me uncontrollably, sharp and broken, echoing like madness in the heavy silence.

Susan flinched, startled. “Finch…?” she said carefully, her voice edged with fear, as if afraid I might shatter completely in front of her.

I clutched my head, rocking back and forth, laughing through the tears that streamed down my face. “It’s funny, Susan… it’s so damn funny… this morning they were right here. Right here!” My laughter cracked into a sob, my voice rising, torn between grief and hysteria.

The onlookers shifted uncomfortably, whispering, some averting their eyes. To them, I must have looked like a man unraveling, and maybe I was.

I just sank to the floor beside their bodies, my legs giving way under the crushing weight in my chest. My hands trembled as I clutched my head, the sounds of the crowd and sirens fading into a hollow silence.

Lucy’s words echoed in my mind like a cruel prophecy: “Your principles are going to make you enemies, Alister. But some men don’t forgive righteousness. They punish it.”

Tears streamed down my face as I whispered, my voice cracking, “It’s all my fault… I should have changed the damn report.” My fists slammed against the ground. “Why didn’t I just bend? Why didn’t I protect them?”

The thought twisted inside me like a knife. I knew the Bakers. I knew what they were capable of. I thought if they wanted revenge, they’d ruin my career, tarnish my name… sabotage me at the hospital. My throat burned as I choked on the words. “But Kate… Julia…”

I lifted my eyes toward the covered bodies and broke into a sob. “I never… I never thought they’d go after you. Not you.”

The memories of that morning flashed cruelly—Kate’s warm smile, Julia’s laughter, her tiny feet dancing around the kitchen as she hummed about ballet. And now… nothing.

I clawed at my hair, my voice ragged. “If only I could turn back time. If only I could’ve taken your place. God… please… take me instead.”

Susan crouched beside me, tears glistening in her own eyes, but I could barely register her presence. The world felt like it had ended, and I was the only one left alive inside its ruins.

“Finch… we have to take them to the morgue,” Susan said softly, her voice shaking, as if she herself was afraid of breaking me further.

I let the tears flow freely, no longer able to hold them back. My chest heaved as I rose slowly to my feet, every muscle in my body heavy with grief. The air around me felt suffocating, yet I stood. Everyone’s eyes followed me—nurses, police officers, strangers—they all stared as though I were a ghost among the living.

I moved through the crowd weakly, almost in a trance, like I was possessed. My lips curled into a smile I didn’t recognize. It wasn’t joy. It wasn’t sanity. It was something darker, something born of pain too heavy to bear.

From afar, I caught sight of Lucy pushing through the people, her face pale with worry. She must have heard, she must have known why I bolted from the hospital.

But I didn’t wait for her. I turned away, refusing to look back at the ambulance as my wife and daughter were wheeled inside. My heart screamed to see them one last time, but my body couldn’t. I couldn’t.

And in that moment, I felt it—something crawling inside me, clawing its way to the surface. The part of me that had died with them was gone, replaced by something else. My monster was born, and I could feel its breath rising with mine.

I clenched my fists, whispering to myself, “They’ll pay. Every last one of them will pay.”