A Dark Moon

​When I woke up the door as caved in and the room was a mess. Of course, last night’s memories had left my mind, I was someone else after all. When I looked around at the mess I saw my torn clothes, the puddles formed by the rain and there was the faint smell of copper in the air. Despite the chains and barricades my other self had broken free of the cage and I closed my eyes in misery. Even now, despite it being day, I could hear his voice whispering at me. He seemed happy.

​I never thought of my other self as ‘it’ instead of ‘he’, although the newspapers would beg to differ. There was something strangely human about this beast inside of me that I couldn’t help but consider it as another person. I did everything I could to stop him, but it seems that he is always a step ahead. For now, I was more concerned with the trail I left in the ground leading back to my cage. If someone discovered the result of my actions last night they would be able to track me down effortlessly. However, I was still alive and anonymous, so I took advantage of the time I had.

Fresh clothes and a smart jacket. I shaved and cleaned myself to the best of my ability, removing all evidence and leaving my cage to return to the city. If anything had happened it would help to be at the crime scene and see what the damage was. The last thing I needed to be was a suspect, I know that, but I had a sickening feeling that I should be there.

I climbed into my stowed away car and drove away from the venue and back into the city. There was always a deep sadness that surrounded the city and its people. Bad circumstance was one thing, but other than that there were worse people that didn’t make the situation any easier. As the years passed with this infliction I began to believe I was one of them. I drove for a time and soon stopped outside the TV shop watched the news which played on the screens. Luckily, there wasn’t a crowd surrounding them, which meant whatever I did wasn’t as bad as it had been before.

I waited for such a long time, but the politics and disaster that played across the screen had nothing to do with me. What did he do? If he felt as angry as last night I would suspect he would have done something terrible and...big. However, the news that played had nothing to do with him so I started the car and drove home. It wasn’t a long way up the city, but the traffic was always a pain. An hour later I was pulling onto my driveway and I saw the flash of police cars. I knew then what he did last night and gathered myself to keep driving in a straight line.

I parked the car by the side of the street, I pushed myself through the crowd and up to the nearest police officer. He saw my movement and marched in front of me and blocked me from crossed the tape.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to stay back,” he told me.

I told him it was my home and begged him to let me get inside, but that only made him insist that I stay back more, telling me to go give a statement to another officer. I did as he asked and confronted another officer and he asked me for proof of who I am as he began taking down what I said. I searched my pockets, but then realized my wallet and identification were with my torn clothes, buried. I explained that I lost my wallet, but in turn showed him the car keys I had and pressed the remote for my garage door,

The door lifted, revealing the corpse that hung by chains and the police around it taking photos and searching for evidence. I fell to my knees and wept as the office snatched the remote and closed the door to hide the corpse from view of the civilians who had gasped and screamed in horror. He was upset with me for doing that, but the grief in my eyes was clear and he knew the pain of widow was in them.

The officers let me cross the line and explained the situation as I wiped my eyes. My wife had been attacked by an animal, most likely a wild dog who was no doubt on the leash of a the killer who hanged her in the garage. I wept in response as they continued, telling me no evidence has been retrieved yet, only samples of the animals hair which I knew must have belonged to him. I asked them what happened to my daughter and they couldn’t tell me anything, saying there was no sign of anyone else.

At this, I became hopeful and charged into the house with the police making way. I made my way into my daughters room and approached the corner of the room where I had placed a basket over a loose floorboard. I removed the basket and lifted the board to reveal my sleeping daughter. I pulled my baby from the hiding spot and into my arms. I knew that if he ever would come to my home that I should find a better way to keep my family safe other than a few locks.

There was nothing I could have done for my wife without raising suspicion, but stowing my child away on the night was one way to ensure her safety.

The police asked me way I stowed my child away like that to which I found myself struggling to reply. Unable to tell the truth I told them I was paranoid that way. It was why I spent a fortune on the alarm which was destroyed, on the locks that were broken and the heavy doors that were shattered. My words were easy to see through, but there was no evidence against me.

I knew it wouldn’t be the last time I saw the police and I knew it wouldn’t be the last time the world saw him either.