Till Time Do Us Part

The clock ticked steadily, a patient rhythm that filled the small apartment. Tick. Tick. Tick. Each sound tightened his pulse, though his hands never trembled. Control was everything. He checked his wristwatch — 3:14 A.M. Almost time. He leaned against the back of the chair, watching the man bound and gagged before him. The ropes were neat, symmetrical, drawn tight around the wrists and ankles with practiced precision. The gag was firm enough to silence, loose enough to allow those pathetic whimpers to escape. He liked the whimpers. They reminded him of anticipation. When the minute hand struck twelve, he straightened. With slow, deliberate movements, he pulled a length of cord from his pocket. It was soft to the touch, pliant but unyielding, chosen carefully, like everything he used. He stepped behind the chair, looped the cord once, twice around the victim’s throat, then crossed it in front, pulling the ends back in a fluid motion. The body jerked violently. The chair rattled against the floorboards. He tightened the garrote with a steady strength, leaning close enough to hear the wheeze, the strangled attempt at a scream. His breath was calm, his heart steady, as the clock on the wall ticked mercilessly toward 3:15. The man’s struggles weakened. Fingers twitched, then slowed. The eyes bulged, searching, pleading and then dulled as the final second ticked in at exactly 3:15 A.M. He eased his grip, not out of mercy but by precision. Carefully, he lowered the slack cord, as if completing a ritual rather than discarding a tool. He straightened the man’s head, closed the eyelids with two measured touches, then drew a silver watch from his pocket. With a press of his thumb, the ticking stopped. He placed it on the nightstand beside the body, its frozen hands forever marking the moment of death. He lingered, savoring the silence. In the stillness, he heard another echo, the sound of his childhood basement, the endless ticking of a clock he could never escape. But here, now, time belonged to him. Bending low, he whispered, voice soft, reverent. "Till time do us part."  Then he slipped into the hallway, footsteps soundless, leaving behind only silence and the frozen face of time.