"What?" Is how I answer the phone several days later, in the middle of walking Fluffy around the block. Unfortunately, I've been quite busy as of late, which means the dog hasn't been getting a proper amount of attention. I've been trying to get better about that, but I just have so much on my mind. Constantly.
Decari obviously takes up most of it. That man stresses me out to no end, though it's not actually his fault. It's not like I can realistically blame him for being so attractive and likable all the time. He can't help the way he was born: perfect.
That doesn't mean that he doesn't drive me insane, though. Luckily, our interactions have been pretty tame as of late. In accordance with most friendships, I'd say. Nothing that crosses any boundaries or makes me feel weird, but that doesn't mean that his mere existence doesn't put me on edge. Our interactions are growing in frequency, what with him taking me to work now, on top of our elevator interactions.
Also, he's way too nice to me. It causes feelings of conflict I have never experienced before. We should not get along like we do, at all, since we are so different. Of course, he has no idea just how different, but still. It drives me crazy. At least we haven't gotten together outside of our normal interactions, not since the whole... mac and cheese incident. Still, it's a lot.
So, yeah, he takes up the majority of my waking thoughts at this point, and only part of it is from actual stress. However, I also think about the copycat quite a bit. What he's doing seriously pisses me off, and I'm nervous if he will do it again. Nobody deserves to be put through what he did to Iris.
He's gained quite a bit of media attention over that, as well. People are fucking pissed about what he did to her, as they should be, but that's not even the worst of it. Not only are they calling for his head on a stick, but they seem to want me to be the one to deliver it. As if they weren't treating me like a vigilante before, it's much worse now, and I've reached the point where I can't watch the news anymore.
I'm a fucking serial killer, what is not to get? I'm not here to deliver justice in my own way, or give the people what they want, or whatever the media likes to twist it into. Of course, when I eventually figure out who this copycat is, he better count his goddamn days. We will absolutely be having a talk. That's not because I'm Batman, though. It's because he pissed me off, and deserves to be treated like an animal.
The news stations don't care about this. Every street interview they hold with random citizens yields the same result: they want The Doctor to take care of it.
That's not even counting the fact that I haven't had the time to actually commit a murder in a while, and I'm getting antsy. Willow also hasn't been much help, using her technological prowess to try and find her necklace, though I have no idea how that could even work. So, she hasn't found me a victim, and I haven't had the time to take care of one anyway. I'm constantly restless, can hardly even focus enough on one thing to hold a conversation. It's just too much.
So, here I am, trying to give Fluffy the attention she needs while also maintaining some sort of normalcy. Now, Kristy has decided to call me, which only happens when some bullshit has occurred. I'm not in the mood for it today, but it's not like I have much of a choice.
"How soon can you get here?" The woman asks me, and I can't help the way my brows furrow together. Wow, she's calling me in early. It's only 2 PM, usually I go in at 7.
"Probably an hour. I'm walking my dog," I tell her, adding more time on top of that since I will have to take public transportation.
"Okay, well, just get here as soon as possible. I don't want to have to be here all night again."
Those words cause a sinking feeling in my gut, since I can only recall one recent instance where I had to work so late.
Iris.
"What do you mean?" I ask her warily, and Fluffy and I are already on our way back to my apartment. I'm not even sure when I turned around, when I made the decision to cut the walk short, but I'm sure Fluffy will understand. I have a bad feeling about this.
"It's the copycat." Kristy tells me, which is exactly as I feared. Something that strikes me as odd, however, is the fact that she doesn't sound nearly as excited as last time. Although, I'm pretty sure the only reason she had such a positive attitude over Iris was because it was drama. It was a story, she knew the public would eat it up. Now, it's just regular news.
That's just a guess, though. God knows what actually goes on in that woman's brain. "This time, he got the mayor's daughter, and... and it's really bad, Camilo. Just get down here."
Yeah, that is not fucking good. At all. For Kristy to be disturbed, you'd have to have done something really fucked up. Nothing fazes that woman, I can't remember a single time she sounded so put off. This must be big.
So, I hang up the phone, and waste no time. I get ready for work as fast as possible, and Fluffy is not happy with me. She puts up even more of a fight than usual when I leave—this time I have to throw two objects, instead of one—and by the time I'm stumbling out my door, my shirt is half unbuttoned and I'm still in the process of putting my shoes on.
I actually lose my balance, though not badly enough that I'm at risk of falling. This doesn't matter either way, since as soon as I begin to tip over, I feel someone grab my arm.
I jump, turning to find none other than Decari there, giving me a look of concern. I'm able to right myself with his help, standing up straight and buttoning up the rest of my shirt, though it doesn't actually matter since I always have an undershirt on anyway.
Lucia is also here, staring at me impassively. I decide to ignore her. For now.
"You okay?" Dex asks me, and I nod, fixing my collar and picking my bag up off the floor, which I hadn't even realized I'd dropped. I turn back to face him, trying to give him a reassuring look, although I probably look more disturbed than anything.
"Uh, yeah, just... called into work early." I notify him, trying to catch my breath. Dex nods in return, looking me up and down before turning back to his partner.
"I'll be there soon," Dex notifies her, and I watch her expression turn kind of sour. She glances at me once more, before just shaking her head and walking down the hallway. I can't help but frown, wondering what they were talking about before I came out here.
"Is she okay?"
I'm not only asking about her attitude today, but also the first time I met her. Dex probably knows that, and just gives me a swift nod. "Yeah, don't take it personally. She's just... suspicious of everyone. Also, the copycat got to Mayor Thomas' seventeen year old daughter. It's bad."
She's just... suspicious of everyone.
What on earth does that mean?
I probably should've known Dex was already aware of what happened, especially since he appears to be wearing his work clothes as well. He must've been called in early, which means we're both likely going to the morgue, so...
"Come on, let's head over there. I assume Kristy called you again?"
I nod. "Yeah. She said it's bad, too."
Dex purses his lips, and we begin to walk down the hall together. Once we've entered the elevator, he asks, "did she tell you why?"
I shake my head in the negative, and Dex purses his lips. He stays quiet as we walk through the lobby and out the front doors, crossing the parking lot, and the silence begins to weird me out. I feel as though something is really, really wrong.
Once we are finally in the car, and he has fully pulled out of the parking lot, Dex finally specifies.
"We think he did it when she was still alive."
The entire ride to the hospital is eerie, Dex clearly quite upset about the copycat's newest victim, as am I. Probably for different reasons, though. Dex is likely upset because a young girl suffered such a terrible fate. However, I'm mostly focused on the sheer lack of humanity in dissecting and experimenting on someone or something at any stage that's antemortem.
That's a cruelty even I'm not capable of.
The ride seems to take forever, and the entire walk and elevator ride down to the morgue is excruciating, as I'm just left with my thoughts. Dex has gone silent, is far too deep in thought to have any kind of conversation with me, so I'm left on my own. Only my mind to entertain me, which never goes well.
When we enter the morgue, it's silent. This is strange, since usually there is some bumbling noise as the employees do their jobs. However, this time, it's dead quiet. Dex and I make our ways to the body respectively, and when I finally catch sight of it, I freeze. Kristy reaches out and holds my hand shakily, and it takes a lot to stun this many people who are so accustomed to death.
The sight of Mayor Thomas' daughter explains it, though. She has been surgically operated on and taken apart in a deeply aggressive and inhumane way, it is disturbing. At first glance, she seems to have endured everything Iris did, and then some. I can't even imagine what the crime scene looked like, though I'm positive Dex must have been one of the first people on it. That would sure explain how disturbed he's looked since the second I saw him in the hallway.
Right off the bat I am able to understand the gravity of the situation, although most people probably can't. It was definitely done when she was still alive, but that's not even the worst of it. Whoever did this must have had some serious medical expertise—we may be looking at an actual doctor—with how long he was likely able to keep her alive for this.
It is very possible she had to watch almost every stage of seeing her own body ripped apart. Seeing her humanity taken from her.
Surprisingly, however, this isn't what really catches my attention. What truly disturbs me. This isn't what has me freezing in place, what has my lungs failing to take in air and my eyes widening.
The horror show in front of me isn't what makes me feel like my legs are going to give out. No, it's only one small attribute. One little thing, that makes the room feel like it's steadily growing smaller. One detail that makes my blood run cold.
Right there, around her neck—or, what's left of it—is an all too familiar necklace.
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