“Mr. Cliff.” Emilia started, “I hope you realize that your silence does not count for time. You must communicate with me.”  She stated impatiently.


    I sat sullenly, in my usual seat and stared into my hands aimlessly. My lips were dry and my glasses had fallen to the brink of my nose.  The room was quiet, besides the humming of the air conditioner in the corner. Dust floated about, and I finally shifted in my seat.


    Emilia watched me with observant eyes, waiting for anything in my mood that would budge. “How about we start with a simple thing. How has your week gone?” Her hands folded in her lap and she mimicked my expression.


    “It was normal. Woke up, went to work, dealt with the usual rumor, went home, finished work and went to bed. The next day I repeated everything.” I replied.


    Emilia slouched feeling defeated. “Mr. Cliff, is there anything on your mind?”


    I shook my head.


    Annoyed with my silent response, Emilia started to tap her nail against her skin. She then shifted and tapped it on her chair handle. “It has been three hours. I have other patients. Please, there has to be something we can talk about. Did you learn anything new over the past few days?”


    An image appeared in my mind and I straightened my back. “Actually, yes.” My eyes stayed glued to my wrinkled hands and I traced my view over a blue vein popping from my leathery skin.


    Relief washed over her face and she quickly grabbed her pen and pad. “Perfect! Let’s hear it then.”


    “I learned about a rumor involving you.” I coyly said, letting my chin raise in mischievousness.


    “A rumor?” Emilia asked. Her attention bounced between her blank page and my face.


    I nodded then continued, “I heard you were involved with dirty cops. So I did a little digging and found out that since your husband was a cop himself you became well acquainted with some men on the force.”


    “Well that’s not a rumor, Mr. Cliff, that''s the basic fact.” Her voice was light and her kind words dipped in unease. “Of course I would come to know those men, it would be odd if I didn’t. All the christmas parties, retirement parties, basic get togethers. The men on the force are like family to me.” Emilia said defensively.


    “Emilia, the rumor is that those men helped you with something.” I dropped my head to the side and smiled thinly.


    The woman sitting before me sat up slowly and eyed me curiously. She set down the pen and bit her lip. An act that made me believe I was on to something. She pulled the recording device out. Something about it had become so normal I forgot it existed.


    “Where is your husband?” I asked letting the air between us become even more tense than it was originally.


    “No offense Mr. Cliff, but I do not feel comfortable sharing more about my life than I already have.”


    “So then why pressure me on mine?” I snapped. We both sat in silence taking in the underlying uncomfortableness. A sigh emitted from Emilia’s lips.


    “How about we skip the small talk for today and jump into something that has been on my mind. As you may know, there is a large population that thinks the NYPD are simply pinning you for cases that clearly don’t have any connection to you. Two cases in particular jump out when brought into such arguments.”


    I leaned to my left letting my elbow rest on the arm of the couch and listened to her talk.


    “A young boy named Cole passed away one night from an overdose. You weren’t anywhere near that area nor had any reason to be near that area. Another was the death of Laura Copper.  She was brutally murdered by an axe. All the evidence is pinned toward her ex-boyfriend who, unfortunately, was too drunk to remember anything from that night. In the report he claims that they had a fight about their relationship but then blacked out. When he awoke she was dead and the murder weapon in his hands. He called the police and turned himself in, but couldn’t think of committing the vile act.”


    “Drinking can make the best men turn rotten.” I said, shaking my head slowly. The scene replayed in my mind. That night was a waste but I sure as hell enjoyed myself. “What do you think happened that night Emilia?” I asked purely out of curiosity.


    It was no hidden fact that Emilia was sharp on picking up on things. I was almost eager to see if she could find those fine lines of connection.


    “I’m not quite sure what to believe. Though I will say, I spoke with Damien myself. He was so shaken up about this crime. His reaction was indifferent to other previous cases like this one. He also brought up something that wasn’t in the file. Something involving another man.” She paused as she recalled the conversation. “Laura was a ‘lady of the night’, a common day stripper with the name Sapphire. She supposedly was working that night. The other women she was with said she picked up an older gentleman. One with blackboots and round glasses.” Emilia spoke slowly trying to cause a reaction in me.


    “How interesting.” I said, not giving much attention to it. I was monotone with my response and knew, that with the obvious facts, the police wouldn’t look much further into the case unless a real witness or confession was brought up.


    “My thought is. Though it doesn’t happen often, she took the man to her home and knowing that the ex was there, he killed her, then framed the boyfriend.”


    “A wonderful hypothesis.” I enthused, picking at my nails. “But you have other questions that need answers. Such as, Why kill her in the first place? The boyfriend had motive, a reason to lash out. Plus, you can’t be quite sure that they went back to her place. Who was the man she was with?”


    “How do you know he had a motive?” Emilia asked beginning to write something down.


    “You mentioned earlier that he was her Ex-boyfriend.” I replied emphasising the Ex. “I assumed that he was upset about something. After all they had a fight moments before her death.”


    “Right.” Emilia said, dropping her bottom lip. “Well I am no investigator and I unfortunately only have photos of the crime scene. Therefore, I cannot make full claims on what happened that night.” She said partly retracting her previous assumptions.


    “Indeed. It is simply a thought.” I said bringing, once again, silence between us.


    Emilia began the next conversation by asking, “How is Ms. Wadsworth?”


    My own maids and mothers nurse’s name intrigued me and I was once again interested in what this conversation could give for information.


    “She’s doing well.” I responded.


    “That’s good to hear, could you tell me how you two met? I am curious about what the circumstances were.”


    I itched my chin and blinked a few times trying to focus on the memories I needed.


    “She and I met under pure coincidence. She was on her way to work when we ran into each other. We got to talking and she told me about her living situation and life issues.”


    “Where was she living previously?” Emilia asked.


    “With her family. As you may know, Ms. Wadsworth is Hispanic. Her entire family lives under one roof, and she was one of the few in the family to get out, and actually maintain a decent job.” I said. “When we met, I ran into her while. It was in the area she used to live. She was originally very quiet but after I bought her some coffee to apologize, she opened up about wanting different work, so I offered her a job. Within a few minutes we were set and there was really nothing to it.”


    “What were you apologizing for?”


    I became silent with thought and questioned on what I should explain.


    “A… person we both knew in a way, passed away. She and I collided and her bag was ruined so to make up for it I treated her to coffee.”


    “I see. Well I’m glad you were kind to her. She seems like such a sweet young lady.”


    “That’s because she is. Ms. Wadsworth and I are quite informative on eachother.” I explained.


    “That explains why the police always question her whenever you get taken in for investigations. She’s always your alibi or able to confirm your where-abouts.” Emilia said writing things down occasionally.


    I hummed letting the room be filled with the echo of my soft voice as it mixed with the air conditioner. With this silence, Emilia began writing more and I was overwhelmed with the thoughts and memories of before.


    Ms. Wadsworth was leaving her home while having, I believe, her mother yell at her. Poor Ms. Wadsworth dropped her keys while fumbling out onto the street. I was a ways away from her and paid no attention to the words that were being tossed around or the woman herself.


    After picking up her keys she hastily took off and turned into a small street. I happened to be going the same way so I traveled a respectful distance behind her not wanting to alarm her in any way.


    She made another turn and didn’t pay any attention to where she was going. Her nose was stuck looking through her bag and she walked right into a tall blackman who wore a navy colored sweatshirt and black sweats. The man was visibly upset and began cursing at her.


    I, still not paying very much attention to what was happening ahead, continued traveling toward the two. My hands were in my pockets and my eyes were stuck on the ground and I counted my steps.


    Ms. Wadsworth clutched her back and became timid, taking small steps backwards from the abusive man. Confusion gripped her features and she was having trouble getting around the tall man.


    As I drew closer I heard the man saying some fairly harsh things to the woman, which gave me a disgusted taste in my mouth. He then reached for her bag shoving her out of his way and bolted down the alley toward me.


    Ms. Wadsworth fell to the ground screaming, as the man left her on the ground. The entire action was ridiculous and I made the split decision that this man was a useless piece to society. Any person who purposely harms others for their own good is a criminal. A delinquent that deserves to be shut up in jail.


    Just as the man passed, I slid my foot out tripping him mid-run and watched as the man tumbled over himself. I heard as his face hit the pavement and hios skull crack as it dug into the pavement. Seconds passed and I wrinkled my nose in repulsion.


    The small hispanic woman ran up to me, after regaining herself, and started to snatch up her bag and the things that had fallen out of it. We both made brief eye contact then looked to the man lying on the ground.


    “Why isn’t he moving?” She asked. I knelt down to the man''s side and laced my fingers on his neck looking for a pulse. Nothing.


    “Help me lay him on this wall.” I said roughly. She did as told and we both stepped back looking at our work. The tall man was now sitting, hunched over and a trickle of blood flowed from just beyond his scalp.


    “I won’t tell if you don’t.” I said, looking carefully at the woman''s face. A bird chirped from the top of one of the buildings and a car passed by on the road. My eyes were looking for any indication of what she might do. Scream? Run?


    “Ok.” She said, making one slow nod. “I need a new job. You buy me a drink and give me a new job?” Her eyes were now on me and I admit, I was shocked at her reaction.


    “Ok.” I agreed. The rest of that day we spent our time learning about each other. Her english was broken but she gave off the vibe of not caring for other people. She was shy, quiet and only truly cared about earning money. A trustworthy person I allowed into my life.


    Putting together a plan, I bought the apartment next to mine, made a deal stating that she helps clean my apartment while taking care of my mother, while keeping her mouth shut about anything she may see or hear. The woman agreed and smiled reaching out her hand. “Melony Wadsworth. Thank you sir.”


    “Mr. Cliff. Why did you ask me about a watch repair place?” Emilia started, trying once more at a topic.


    “Ah yes, my watch broke yesterday at two fifteen. I was trying to find a place that could repair it.”


    “I see, well I don’t know of any good watch repair place but there is one downtown.” She informed.


    “I’ll look into it. Thank you.” I said nodding and rubbing my wrist. It was a little odd not having the feeling of leather wrapped around it but nothing I couldn’t not get used to.


    “To my recollection of reading your reports. You used to have a dog no?” Emilia asked.


    “Why yes.” I answered, “A tall rottweiler. A strong dog he was. Sadly though I had to put him down because a runner shoved his hand down his throat.” I scoffed.


    “That man went to the hospital didn’t he?”


    I clicked my tongue showing my dislike. “His wound became infected.”


    Emilia nodded then added into the conversation hoping it would lead to somewhere. “After you put your dog down you moved. Right around the time Ms. Wadsworth did.”


    “Does that strike you as, out of the ordinary?” I sighed figuring where this was headed.


    “Slightly, I mean, the odds of you two knowing the same man, then her leaving her job and suddenly working for you while also moving into the apartment complex and the apartment right besides yours that you just purchased on the same day? I feel as though there is something you are keeping from coming up. Something like a secret. Something big and dark enough to keep silent.” If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    “I think you are reading far too much into this.” I said waving a hand at the conversation. I wanted to change the subject because the boredom I received from this one was uncomfortably unsettling. “What Ms. Wadsworth and I know, is nothing of importance.” I hissed.


    “Pardon my intrusion.”  Emilia bowed.


    Time continued and Emilia gave up on learning anything. “I feel a little disheartened because this conversation was a little all over and not very informative. Next time I’ll be sure to have a case that we can discuss. Enjoy your week.” She rolled herself to the window and lit up a cigarette. I took my stand and left the room thinking back to the topics we discussed.


    She still wasn’t telling me everything about her husband. Ms. Wadsworth and I’s arrangement needed to be discussed and the topic of my dog being put down had ruined my appetite.


    Stepping out from the cool building I was hit by a wall of humidity. I bounced down the stairs and started home.


    My walk back was usual and short. I exited the elevator entering my hallway.


    Pulling out my keys I noticed a young figure standing in front of my door. Stepping up to him I unlocked my door and looked at the kid. It was Chloe Walker''s child. “Want to come in?” I asked quietly.


    Without giving any sign or notice he entered the apartment willingly.


    “Good afternoon, Mr. Cliff.” Ms. Wadsworth called from inside.


    I followed the boy and started up some tea. “Want anything to drink kid?” I asked, giving him a side look. He shook his head and wandered the small apartment space smiling at the nurse. She was just finishing up her cleaning duties but smiled back at him.


    The boy looked at the woman on the couch then sat beside her on the floor leaning his back against the stiffness of the furniture.


    I gestured my head to the kitchen after getting the attention of the nurse and she quickly walked over with a rag still in her hand.


    “How did today go?” I asked in a hushed tone. “The police give you any issues?”


    “No sir. Police didn’t come in at all, they just stood outside your door.”


    “Good, and the boy?” I asked motioning to the kid sitting in my living space.


    “I sorry Mr. Cliff. I don’t know.”


    “No worries. How about…” I stopped and nodded to my room.


    She smiled then looked down, folding the rag in her hands.  She was hiding her real emotions and the boy behind her watched us with a keen expression.


    “Doing well, fed and cleaned. Just as you would like.”  She answered.


    “Good, please watch the tea for me.”  I ordered. I slipped from the kitchen and stepped up to the boy who was sitting on the floor. His eyes were taking in my body and I was impressed at his examination. “What''s your name kid?”


    A moment of pure silence passed until he reached in through the top of his shirt and pulled out a long chain with two dangling chips. I bent down and took hold of the dogtags in my right hand.


    Reading the metal through my glasses, I found that his name was  Clance Jay Walker. Under his name was a phone number and under that were the simple words ‘I am autistic’.


    I bent down letting my old, creaking knees hit the floor and I repositioned myself so I was able to sit on the ground comfortably.


    “Nice to meet you kid, I’m Mr. Cliff. Your mom know you’re here?” The boy nodded and itched his arm. “Did you need something?” The boy shook his head and then started looking around the room.


    Behind me I heard the pitch of the water and I smiled at the kid. “Tea?” His eyes met mine but I never received a response. Deciding for him I stood from the floor and looked to Ms. Wadsworth. “Go ahead and pour three cups. I guess we have a guest for tonight.”


    “Yes sir.” She called from the kitchen bustling around and doing her duties.


    My pant cuff was suddenly tugged on and I looked down to see Clance using me to stand. I assisted the boy momentarily, and after the action he began to wander the room again. I watched him thinking of autistic characteristics.


    Those with Autism are likely to pick up on things most don’t. Their view on the world can be drastically different than that of a ‘normal’ person. But with how quiet he was I wasn’t too worried about him saying anything. Afterall, he didn’t seem to speak much with his own parents.


    “Tea is ready sir.”


    I twisted on my heels and watched Ms. Wadsworth set out all three cups to sit beside each other at the bar connected to the counter of the kitchen. I grabbed my bag and opened it on the counter, finding some papers, then sat down on a stool and began reading.


    Ms. Wadsworth stood across from me and sipped her tea silently.


    The boy, however, reached for my door and I took in Ms. Wadsworth''s worried look.


    “Come here Clance and drink your tea. Nothing in that room that you need to know about.”


    Clance obeyed and left the door closed. He trudged over and sat beside me, taking his tea. He was a little confused by the smell of it but slowly gave it a try. Ms. Wadsworth chuckled as he gave a distasteful look but then continued to drink it.


    “Ms. Wadsworth, this is Clance Walker. He and his mother just moved in down the hall in an apartment close to ours. We will treat them with respect.” I said, not looking up from the paper in my hand.


    “Yes sir,” She responded politely giving the boy another smile.


    “Now, let''s talk about what''s been on your mind.”  I kept my tone light but my face was dark and heartless. I set down the papers and stared into her brown eyes.


    An audible gulp sounded from her throat and she quivered when talking. “What about?”


    “Ever since I brought in the thing, we know not to talk about in front of other people. You have been very…” I stopped to look down into my cup swirling around the liquid inside. “Distant.”


    As if electricity ran through her limbs she jumped slightly at my words. “I do not mean to come across that way. Mr. Cliff has been very generous and kind to me. I respect the things you do. I protect the things I know. The thing is just…” Her voice trailed off as she looked to the door of my bedroom.  “I feel sorry for it.” She finished. The pity in her voice was something I couldn’t understand.


    “It’s just a human being.” I said picking up my papers again.


    The boy having forced himself to finish the tea sniffed and laid his head on his arms and he sat watching my face.


    “Don’t worry. I’ll let it go eventually. I have a plan after all.” I added.


    “Yes sir.” She said growing quiet.


    I looked to Clance and patted his head. “The things we hear here must not be told elsewhere. Can you keep a secret?”


    The boy popped his head up and nodded. “Good. Now run along and go home. I’m sure your mother will be back shortly.”


    The boy slid from his stool and automatically followed my orders. After the door clicked I started drinking my tea and grading papers again.


    Ms. Wadsworth stood silently drinking her own tea, watching me with hesitance. My mother from behind, groaned and the tv clicked on. The static faded into a commercial which filled the room but I blocked the noise using my inner voice.


    After about five pages, Ms. Wadsworth spoke. “Mr. Cliff? sir,”


    “What is it darling?” I asked not lifting my eyes from the words on the pages.


    “My family would like to see me sometime soon. What should I say to them? They have many questions.”


    I sighed, taking in her words. I set the papers on the counter and cocked my head frowning at her. “I suppose next week Saturday would work. Things should be slow around that time and it will mark a one year on the last murder I commited.”


    The woman nodded once and looked into her half empty cup. “What should I say to them? About you?”


    “Tell them the truth. I am a teacher at a local college. I have you working for me and that I like tea.”


    “What do I say about working for you? What about how we met?”  She continued.


    “Simply say, I pay more and the hours are better, we met randomly on your way to work.”


    She was unsteady about a few things but still absorbed my answers. “They heard about the killing Mr. Cliff. The one man we....on my way to work. They know I was around that area. How do I explain to them why you hired me? How do I tell them I am not paying for my apartment?”


    I took down the last bit of my tea and slid the cup to her. She grabbed it preparing another cup of tea for me while also taking care of the empty cup beside me.


    “Ms. Wadsworth. You lie to the police every week for me. You have learned to bounce around the truth and withhold information about certain things. You kept the fact that I have a living man in my closet and you lie to people saying that you are my alibi on nights and days that murders are committed. Why are you having an issue with lying to your family?”


    “Mr. Cliff, it is because they are my family that I have a hard time. They are my blood, my roots.” She turned, still sinking in the tea bag. “Don’t you have family that you tell everything to?”


    I was silent for a minute, letting my mind wrap around her innocence.


    “Trust is something you force on people. I forced it onto you when I killed that man. I forced it onto you by taking you into my life. I bought you an apartment beside mine, I gave you a job when you left yours. I trust you because you help me. My family didn’t do shit for me. My father gave up, My mother is a roach and my brother.” I stopped hearing my own words fall from my mouth. It had been a long time since I had even thought about my brother.


    “I do not trust.” I finished quietly, “No one but you. Family is nothing to me. In society we must fend for ourselves or the world will eat us alive.”


    I stood, letting my stool skid across the floor. The sound it produced caused her to cringe and wrinkle her nose. I grabbed the cup of tea from her and the papers from the counter, then fled to my room for silence.


    I set everything in my hands down onto my desk, then turned to my closet. Opening the doors I looked down on the man trapped inside the dog crate I had no use for.


    I looked at him.


    His eyes swollen from tears. His mouth and cheeks are scared from being burned by the gag. His hands and feet bound up in zip ties and his blonde hair all ruffled up after being cleaned.


    “Just a little longer. Soon you will have a chance to escape. Just a little longer.”  I sang to him.


    His muffled screams started to grow and I slid closed my closet door. Walking to my desk I  clicked on my small fan. The humming of its blades disguised the screams into mere background noise.


    I began grading again, forcing my mind to not think about my brother.


    “What a disgusting creature. An abomination. A pest.”


    My tongue spewed out insults like poison and my eyes grew heavy as I became distracted from work.


    I wondered where he was. I wondered what he was doing. I wondered if he ever thought about me. Was he even still alive? Aware that I was alive? Would he be impressed by my work or disgusted? Would he even care to listen?


    I shook my head and slammed my hands down onto my desk. The feeling of confusion is something I rarely felt. But each time I did, I burned with annoyance.


    Closing my eyes I took in my room’s atmosphere.


    Empty. Become empty. Nothing cluttered. Nothing cramped.


    My chest lifted slightly with each inhale. It would fall with each exhale. I focused on my skin. Its tingling sensation. I focused on my systems. The way they worked inside my body without me needing to think about it. I focused on the darkness around me. Its blackness shutting out those painful memories.


    Painful? Is that the right word? Slowly, I became dead to the world.


    My heart slowed and my blood was all I heard.  The way it flowed through my veins. The sound it produced as it rounded and twisted through my body. What a curious sound it was. Unwillingly, I fell asleep at my desk being sucked in by the feeling of darkness and cold.


    What a wonderful thought to fall asleep to. To be consumed by darkness...


    A tapping began and I opened my eyes to nothing.


    “Hello?” I called softly. My voice echoed soothingly into the abyss. “Ah, a dream.”


    I looked around waiting for something to appear.


    “Mr. Cliff.” Said a familiar voice. I peered to my right and saw the set up of the room I was accustomed to seeing once a week.


    “Emilia.” I walked to the space and looked into her face. It was slightly distorted but overall the furniture and air was correct.


    “Do you fear death?” She asked. I sat on the couch and crossed my legs while my arms stretched across the back of the cushions.


    “No.” I answered. Emilias'' head tilted into a strange position but her voice was heard again. “Why?”


    A journal appeared beside me and on the cover was the name Simon Harris/ Cliff


    “Do you know what this is Emilia?” I ignored her question and recalled a memory.  She was silent and gave no response.


    “This is my brother''s diary. I read this and memorized every word. His thought process was fascinating to me. The things he comprehended at such a young age. Listen to what he wrote.


    You know how some people fear death?


    How they fear the unknown?


    I don’t


    In fact I accept it.


    it''s a part of life. Everybody dies, everything that lives must come to an end


    How it will end, is up to fate.


    It’s up to the paths people choose to take in their journeys.


    I am not afraid of these things.


    Instead I am afraid of life.


    Waking up in the morning and the knowing that, something in some way, will go wrong


    How everything that happens to us is not anyone’s fault, but our own.


    The words we speak can be used against us


    The things we say and make public can cause the world to shut us out and leave us in complete darkness


    And in these moments, we have no one to blame but ourselves.


    We run from truth.


    We hide behind masks for a reason.


    To stay hidden and avoid something we hate to encounter.


    Because pain is real


    And pain is in our daily lives.


    We can’t run away from living.


    We can’t shut the world out expecting it''ll do the same.


    When we hide, the demons and monsters come find us. And when we open ourselves up, the demons and monsters leave us to be at our most vulnerable.


    There’s never a perfect medium.


    No one to blame


    No one to hate.


    No one there to truly care.


    Our lives are based on our mistakes.


    The fewer you make at the beginning, the bigger they are when you do make them later in life.


    But the more you make to start off, the wiser you are yet, the more judgment you will receive.


    Life is unfair.


    Life is hard


    I am not afraid of death because it''s something I can accept after a moment.


    But I am terrified of life because I know anything that happens is a result of my own failure.


    I am afraid of living


    I am afraid of reality.


    I am afraid of what I know will happen, and there’s nothing I can do but go through it and suffer alone.


    ...


    Why do I think like this?


    Because my mind is trying to escape the one thing no can.


    When we do escape there''s no turning back and our choice could be the biggest mistake in our lives.


    Choosing death and the unknown over life.


    To leave our mistakes behind and run from the world in which we think cares too little or too much.


    So many people do it.


    The choice to commit suicide.


    To give up on themselves and leave forever.


    Therefore life, Is the biggest fear of every living species on earth


    This is a fact I am forced to accept.


    That I am afraid to live.


    “Isn’t this interesting? A child wrote this. My own brother.” I said.


    As I looked up, Emilia was nowhere to be seen and the couch on which I sat had transformed into a wooden chair.


    I looked down again, not minding the stillness of the dream.


    “Dear brother, I wonder what it’s like to have a soul as emotional as yours. We were born together, but taken apart on the same day. Do you regret anything? Do you wish you could be as heartless as I?” My lips became hard and my feet grew heavy. I was stuck looking through his diary. Flipping through endless pages of grief and sorrow.


    “What a thought to think about.”