I See Hell In Your Eyes

by: Scarlet-red

A/N: I'm not taking all the credit for this one. The ideas belong to my groupmates. I just pieced them together. :) This was our homework in English class, and the first ever short story I have written under so many conditions (e.g 3 types of composition and should contain the sentences given by my professor) :) Hope you'll like it. The lyrics placed are taken from Linkin Park's song, Papercut, from their debut album, Hybrid theory. I just love Linkin Park, so I couldn't resist placing it. :) Please don't forget to review:)

I know I've got a face in me
Points out all my mistakes to me.
You've got a face on the inside too,
Your paranoia's probably worse.
I don't know what set me off first
But I know what I can't stand
Everybody acts like the fact of the matter is
I can't add up to what you can, but

Everybody has a face that they hold inside,
A face that awakes when I close my eyes,
A face that watches every time they lie,
A face that laughs every time they fall

It's like I'm paranoid, lookin' over my back
It's like a whirlwind inside of my head,
It's like I can't stop what I'm hearing within,
It's like the face inside is right beneath my skin…

-Papercut, Linkin Park

The night’s getting late, and the policemen at the Bramford precinct couldn’t get anymore than bored. The usually rowdy district, with its late night bars and underground parties, has quieted down after the big shoot-out a few nights ago. The shoot-out led to the capture of numerous drug dealers, and seems like business’ laying low for the moment. Some of the rookie policemen, having nothing to do, decided to have a little chat with their Chief, Frederic Goodman.

“What is this? Camping?” Goodman asked half-sarcastically as he eyed the two men pulling up their chairs around his desk. “Get your marshmallows ladies, and we’ll start a campfire.” He added jokingly, his eyes twinkling.

Frederic Goodman is a tall, well-built man in his late fifties. His piercing blue eyes, his most striking feature, couldn’t be dulled by his graying hair. Aside from having a good amount of solved cases under his belt, he’s well-known for solving one of the most disturbing killing sprees the country has seen in the past decades.

“No sir,” Levin answered as he placed a coffee cup in the desk. “We’re just practicing,” he grinned. “The art of interrogation.” Justin Levin is one of the newest recruits in the station. Blonde, green eyed, and with soft features, most people mistake him for a teenager.

“Ah, I see…” Goodman spun around to face his subordinates. “And you Elliot?” he motioned at the other man.

“Same reason, sir!” he chirped eagerly. Jason Elliot, though new to the station, is a year senior to Levin. He attended additional training and got injured on the self-defense part. He was forced to let his ankle heal before he can start working.

“What about the Bloodthirst case is interrogation?” Goodman asked.

Levin scratched his head. “Actually sir, we just want to hear more about it.” He smiled widely.

“Your case is quite a legend at the academy.” Elliot butted in. Definitely trying to persuade the older man to tell his story.

Goodman opened his drawer and eyed a thick black filecase. He debated whether he should spoil the boys’ fun or just tell them what they want.

Silence.

He pulled out the filecase and dropped it in the table. “Better listen then, because I’m not going to repeat this.”

Elliot and Levin beamed like little children that just received their candies.

“Vainesville is a small town located at the sunniest part of the South. With a population of roughly two thousand, it is regarded as one of the most peaceful places in the area. It is well known for its liquor, and will become infamous for the Bloodthirst killing spree.”

Goodman pulled out an old black and white picture of the town marker and showed it to the two.

“The people at Vainesville worked diligently to make sure that their liquor will continue to be the best. With a population as small as that, the residents are all close-knit and seemed to get along with each other. The only crimes filed at the police station were the petty ones, like teenagers behaving badly and drunk men trespassing over their neighbor’s property.”

The younger policemen shifted to a more comfortable position in their seats. They have a feeling it’s going to be a long night.

“It was an ordinary morning when the town received the biggest shock. The wine dealers are arranging their liquor deliveries when an ear-piercing scream echoed through the streets. They rushed to where the sound came from and were in terrible shock at what they saw. In a corner lay a body, bathed in blood and so badly mutilated they thought it was the work of the devil.”

Goodman pulled out a picture and dropped it in front. Elliot picked it up. He paled a little, and Goodman is pretty sure he’s disgusted at what he saw. He gave the picture to Levin, and his reaction’s pretty much the same. The corpse in the picture was that of Gilbert Smith, a wine worker in his thirties. His limbs were torn apart and was sewn in different positions at his trunk. His mouth and eye sockets were also sewn shut. His internal organs were also removed.

“It wasn’t anything like the townsfolk has seen before. The women who rushed to the scene cried, vomited and called to all the gods they knew. The once peaceful town was shaken. The quiet police station suddenly buzzed to life. They need to catch whoever did this, before he strikes again.”

Goodman fished out more photographs from the case. He laid it down so the two can get a better look. Six more corpses, three of them are female. They’re all done like Gilbert’s, mutilated and then sewn back.

Elliot could feel his dinner make his way up his throat. Nothing in the Police Academy has prepared him for the brutality he’s witnessing right now. Though it happened in the past, he was disgusted and angered at the thought that a person could do this to his fellow human being.

“The townsfolk lived in fear and panic. Every week, more bodies are found. News about these killings reached nearby towns. They stopped ordering wine, and tourism rates also declined. Some of the residents also fled from the town, fearing that they might be next. Bloodthirst, as the police dubbed him, wasn’t only killing one person at a time. He’s killing everyone in the town by taking away their source of living.”

“How many people has he killed overall?” Levin couldn’t stop himself from asking. Anger was slowly bubbling inside him.

“We’ll get to that.” Goodman sipped from his coffee cup. He looked at the cup. It’s empty now. “Elliot, more coffee.” He gave him his cup. Elliot, scratching his head, took the cup reluctantly.

“Me too Elliot.” Levin tried to give him his cup.

“Get your own, Princess.” Elliot retorted with a smirk. He took the cup anyway. When he was halfway to the coffee stand, Levin added. “Don’t forget the Bagels!”

A lone middle finger rose up to meet him.

----------------------

Elliot placed a Bagel in front of Levin a few minutes later. He also placed one in front of the Chief. He smiled sheepishly. Goodman just shrugged and resumed his story.

“For a long time, the Vainesville Police were at a dead end. They couldn’t find any connection between the bodies. The only thing they have in common, it seemed, was that they were all done in the same morbid way. Other police stations sent help too. They even placed posters and gave away flyers, announcing that they’ll give a reward to anyone who can give information about Bloodthirst. The police did everything they can, but all their efforts were in vain.”

Goodman opened his drawer again and pulled out a cigarette pack. He got one stick and lit it up. He then offered the cigarettes to the two. Levin declined but Elliot got one. He tossed the lighter to him. Elliot tossed it back a minute later.

“The lead the police were waiting for finally came Mid-September. A woman phoned the station at the dead of night, claiming that a man attacked her while she’s on her way home. After securing her location, the police immediately dispatched some officers to fetch her and bring her to the station. An hour later, the officers came back, bringing with them the only key in solving the case.”

“Vanessa Simpsons…” Elliot mused. “The bartender-turned-town-hero.” He read the note written on the back of her photograph.

“She’s one lucky girl.” Levin added.

“Vanessa Simpsons is a petite young woman in her mid-twenties. A pretty redhead with sparkling green eyes, she’s quite popular among the guys. She works as a bartender for several bars during weekdays. According to the statement she gave to the police, she was on her way home when a man grabbed her from behind. He was trying to knock her out. She struggled hard, and elbowed the man in the stomach when she saw an opening. The grip on her loosened and she tried running away from him but he was quick to recover. He ran after her, and when he’s a short distance away, he tackled her to the ground. They fell and rolled on one of the vineyards. She rummaged through her handbag and pulled out the only thing that she thought could harm the killer. She screamed when he pulled at her hair. Her last resort was to hit him with the handheld mirror she got.”

Goodman flexed his neck and grunted. Late nights at the station are starting to wear him out. “Thank God I’m retiring in a few years,” he thought. He glanced at the people listening to him. “And these idiots are going to be my replacements,” he noted.

“Taken from her testimony too, the man suddenly acted violent towards the mirror. He threw the mirror aside and crushed it to a million pieces. He was shouting obscenities and kept repeating “I don’t want to die.” Seeing this as an opportunity, she fled from the scene and then called the police.”

“We haven’t heard that before.” Levin shifted again from his seat. “There, much better!” he sat more comfortably.

“That’s why we’re asking him, you dumbass.” Elliot retorted. Levin jabbed him at the side as a retort. A small smile escaped Goodman. Oh, how he missed the good old days at the Vainesville Police station…

“She was asked to describe the man. Tall, around 6”2, well-built, around 23-27 years old, brown haired…those were some of the descriptions she gave. When the artist finished the cartographic sketch, the man matched Daniel Harper’s profile, the manager at The Scarlet Winery, the biggest wine house in town.”

Goodman pulled out another photo from the file. He placed a profile sheet beside it. Elliot got the paper and scanned it. Levin took the picture and studied it.

“He looks decent to me.” Levin waved the picture a little. “Couldn’t believe this guy and Bloodthirst are the same person.”

“He did well in school, got decent jobs, and he got along with everyone…” Elliot seemed to agree with Levin. “HE couldn’t be the same person, not unless he’s got some sort of personality disorder.”

Goodman remembered having the same reaction when he found that out decades ago. It was even harder for him to accept it, because Daniel was his good friend back then.

“Daniel Harper moved as fast as lightning. He has left the town, even before the police announced that he’s on the wanted list. The following morning, the town was littered with posters that offered a huge reward to anyone who can pinpoint his location. The police also alerted their neighboring towns, thus, all the exits were heavily guarded. They’re locking down on Bloodthirst.”

The three policemen already downed a lot of coffee and ate some Bagels. Goodman is finishing his second cigarette stick and Elliot’s starting his second. Levin is studying the pictures presented earlier again.

Rain began to pour outside.

“ Two weeks, and still no Daniel Harper. His absence strengthened the case against him. The police searched the studio-type apartment he’s renting on the northern part of town. The only unusual thing they noticed is the absence of mirrors in his house. They even interviewed his workers, and found nothing negative about their answers. The result of the background check they requested at the main office hasn’t arrived yet.”

“He must’ve lived under a rock those days.” Levin commented.

“But it wasn’t in Vainesville where they caught him, right?” Elliot remembered what he read about the case back in the Academy.

Goodman flexed his neck again.

“A group of construction workers in Saila, the city nearest Vainesville, were having a drink one late afternoon. They were celebrating the new recreation center they just finished. It was a fine white building, 10-storeys high. The mayor’s son designed it himself. One of the workers saw a suspicious looking guy drinking at the darkest corner of the bar. Still sober, he dared to take a better look. He pretended to pass by the man’s table. The man seemed familiar. It took ten full minutes before the worker finally phoned the police.”

Goodman was interrupted when the phone on his desk rang. He picked up the receiver. The person on the other end hung up. He replaced the receiver. Another prank call. “Damn street punks…” he muttered under his breath.

“Harper saw the police coming. He bolted out of the bar and ran as quickly as he can. The local police chased him as he turned at every street. He reached the marketplace moments later. He must’ve panicked when he saw a lot of officers. He quickly entered the recreation center and wasted no time in making his way up to the top floor.”

“Must’ve been an athlete back in his college days...” Elliot traced Saila’s town map, starting from the bar to the marketplace.

“Lemme see!” Levin peeked at the map. He couldn’t agree more. It was a long distance. “Its adrenaline rush,” he guessed.

“A commotion began in the marketplace. The remaining people gathered below the recreation center. Harper was standing on top of the building, looking down at them. The firemen rushed to the scene and immediately placed safety nets. The police force, both from Saila and Vainesville, went up the building to persuade Harper to surrender. Hours later, the police got out of the building, bringing with them the infamous Bloodthirst."

“He definitely didn’t want to get caught.” Levin said.

“He’d rather die than pay for his crimes.” Elliot added.

“The Court Trial for Harper started early the next year.

A young woman stood in front. “Case no 1054, Vainesville Trial Court. Adrian Williams, aka Daniel Harper against the citizens of Vainesville.” She said in a strong voice. The other people in the court settled. After swearing an oath of honesty, the Judge declared the opening of Harper’s trial.

“Ms. Vanessa Simpsons, please proceed to the witness stand.” The court secretary announced. Vanessa, wearing an immaculate white suit, slowly stood up and went to the stand.

“Ms. Simpsons, kindly tell us what happened that night when the accused, Mr. Harper allegedly attacked you.” Steven Lorrins, Harper’s attorney, asked as he leaned on the stand.

“I’m on my way home when a man suddenly grabbed me from behind. I struggled hard, and when I saw an opening, I elbowed him in the stomach. His grip on me loosened” Vanessa’s voice was clear and unwavering.

“From that, were you able to get away from him?” Lorrins asked.

“Yes. I managed to get away, but he’s too fast. He caught up and tackled me to the ground. We fell. I tried to grab whatever I can to protect myself.”

“And was it a mirror that you got?”

“Yes. It was an antique mirror that my grandmother gave me. It was hard for me to sacrifice it, but I value my life more.” She said matter-of-factly.

“Then what happened?” Lorrins moved back and forth.

“He suddenly went nuts when he saw the mirror. He kept cussing and then broke the mirror. His attention was focused on destroying it. I used that moment to flee from him.” Vanessa coughed

“It was late night when you were walking home, am I correct?” Lorrins asked, his eyes gleamed.

“Yes sir.”

“Is the street you’re walking on well-lit?”

“No sir. It was quite dim.”

“Then, how can you be sure that it was this man,” he pointed at Harper, who’s sitting calmly on his chair. “who attacked you?”

The citizens gasped.

Vanessa looked uneasy. “It was dark, but when he grabbed me, I was able to take a good look. And I’m quite positive that it’s him.” She swallowed a small lump on her throat.

“Miss Simpsons-can I call you Vanessa instead?” Lorrins leaned closer to her. She nodded. “It was news in town that you’ve been in a brush with some of the men who’s trying to date you…”

“Lorrins…” the judge looked at him warningly.

“I’m not finished yet, your honor.” He looked smug. “The men were built roughly like my client here. It can be that they were the one trying to attack-or kidnap you.” He finished.

Vanessa’s eyes widened. “No, I’m sure it is him!” she stood up and pointed at Harper.

“Ms. Simpsons, calm down.” The judge said, She sat down.

“That’s all, your honor.” Lorrins took his seat. Vanessa was then escorted back to her seat. It was Harper’s turn to take the witness stand.

“Mr. Harper, where were you on that night?” It was Suzanne Andrews, Simpson’s attorney, to do the questioning.

“I was on a business trip.” Harper showed no trace of doubt.

“If that’s the case, then why didn’t you return to town after your trip?” she asked.

“I heard that the police are offering a prize for my head. Of course, I hid. I got scared.” He answered.

“Miss Simpson said that the man who attacked her was afraid of mirrors…” Andrews paced back and forth. “And according to the police, they found not a single mirror in your apartment…could it be that you’re afraid of them?”

Harper tensed.

“Objection your honor!” Lorrins shouted. “That question is too personal.”

“Objection overruled. Andrews, continue.” The judge motioned at Andrews.

“Thank you, your honor.”

“Have you met my client, Vanessa, before?”

“No. Today’s the first time I’ve seen her.” Harper straightened his jacket coolly.

“I see.” Andrews stopped in front of him. “I’m going to show you some pictures. Care to tell me if you’ve seen them before?” Andrews got a short brown envelope.

“Your honor!” Lorrins objected.

“Can I see the files first, Miss Andrews?” the judge held out his hand. She handed him the envelope reluctantly. The judge looked at the pictures and selected a few for Harper to identify.

“Do you know who these people are?” The judge asked as he handed the pictures to him. Harper took it. He looked at the pictures carefully.

“I believe Mr. Smith is a worker at the wine house…” Harper seemed thoughtful. He placed the other pictures down. “The others…I don’t remember meeting them.”

“Thank you, Mr. Harper. That’s all.” Andrews took the pictures and placed them back. She went back to her side of the court and talked with the other lawyers on the table.

The first trial went on for hours. The judge decided they’ll have another trial to further discuss the evidences and possible angles to the murders.

“I feel sorry for Harper’s lawyer, he’s forced to defend a ruthless criminal…” Levin said while taking a sip of his now cold coffee.

Elliot crossed his arms. “He’s paid to do that.” He smirked. “Remember what they said back then,” he looked at Levin.

“What?”

“The easiest way to go to hell is to become a lawyer.” He joked. Goodman laughed.

“A psychology exam is standard police operation before. Harper took it and the results after brought more light to the case. The police brought in the best psychiatric help from the city. They ran more exams on him. Their findings shed more light on the case, as it provided them with the possible motives. One psychiatric intern decided to pull a prank on Harper one day while the other doctors were busy. He placed a mirror in front of Harper’s cell. Harper became outraged, and he began to act like the man that allegedly tried to attack Vanessa Simpsons.

The next trial, aside from the testimonies from the victims’ relatives and Harper’s employees, his psychology exams were also presented at court. Lorrins, his attorney, laid out a plea of insanity as well. As expected, the court ended the session and declared that they’ll have another one the next month. They need to study what the results are saying thoroughly.

The following month, the Judge declared Daniel Harper as mentally insane, and was to be brought to the Hospital for the Criminally Insane for further treatment. Of course, the families of the victims wouldn’t accept it. They protested, and rallied outside the small court house. According to them, there was a miscarriage of justice.

“What drove him to insanity?” Levin was puzzled. “He came from a good family, a good school, and got a great job.”

Goodman shook his head.

“Daniel Harper was Adrian Williams in real life. He changed his name after he was adopted when he was 16 years old. He’s the son of Jacob and Sofia Williams. He had two siblings, Julie and Kyle. He was the eldest. Their family owned The White Dawn, now the Scarlet Winery.”

“Isn’t that where he works?” Elliot asked.

Goodman nodded.

“Adrian showed much promise. The school counselor said that aside from having high IQ, he’s got photographic memory as well. Things were looking good for him, when that accident happened. While playing Hide and seek, Kyle hid in a secluded corner of the vineyard. He fell into a deep pit and broke his leg. His siblings couldn’t find him. Ironically, it rained that night, and the workers couldn’t go out to find Kyle. The following morning, they were able to rescue him but poor Kyle was traumatized. He refused to talk. Their father blamed it all on Adrian.”

Elliot looked out the window. It stopped raining.

“Life became rough for Adrian. His father made a hasty decision, and the wine house went on a downward spiral. They were forced to sell the wine house months later to its competitor. His father became a drunkard. Aside from blaming him constantly for what happened to Kyle, his father began to beat them up too. Everyday, he’ll hear his mother and sister cry. Kyle remained as quiet as the day they found him. He’s all to blame for what happened to his family.”

“So, he snapped huh?” Elliot asked.

“Adrian was taken by an orphanage when he was 14 years old. Apparently, his father came home drunk one evening and murdered Sofia and the children. Jacob William) was sentenced to lifetime imprisonment. Adrian was adopted a year later, and then changed his name.”

“It runs in the family, huh?” Levin asked. He looked at the picture Goodman just brought out from the case. It was an old family picture, the edges burned.

“No,” Goodman said.

“While undergoing therapy in the Hospital for the Criminally Insane, a psychiatrist showed a mirror to Harper. He was outraged, and began to shout obscenities. Moments later, he trembled and kept repeating “I don’t want to die…”. They assumed it was caused by the bloody massacre he witnessed as a child, but then came the shocking confession.”

Elliot glanced at the clock. It was one in the morning. “Whew, time does fly.” He thought.

“I couldn’t take it anymore. Mommy’s always crying, and Julie’s always glaring at me. Kyle, Kyle, do you understand what’s happening? This is your fault Kyle, you shouldn’t have run to that place. Daddy’s drunk again, right mom? Is he going to beat you up again? Oh mom, you should’ve left him and went with that man you were seeing secretly. Oh Julie, stop being a bitch and just run away…”

That’s what he was babbling minutes later.

When the doctors asked him about it, he confessed that he was the one who killed his mother. He shut her up by hitting her with a frying pan and stabbing her in the heart. He pushed Julie down the stairs and stabbed her too. Little Kyle was strangled by Julie’s jumping rope, and stabbed as well. Harper glanced at the broken mirror and was terrified at what he saw. His eyes, they’re a killer’s. His dad came home drunk and immediately rushed to the dead bodies. The police came an hour later and took him to the precinct.”

“What a clever kid, framing his dad…” Levin didn’t know whether he’s amazed or not at what Harper did.

“How old was he at that time, fourteen?” Elliot asked. Goodman nodded.

“He’s got photographic memory right? He can’t forget his eyes…so he’s afraid of mirrors..” Levin added. “Eisoptrophobia…isn’t it?”

“Correct.”

“Jacob Williams had all the motive to kill his family. The neighbors said that he verbally and physically abused them. Of course, he denied the charges. He insisted that it was Harper who did the crime. Because he was drunk, his testimony was invalid. Due to lack of evidence and that his fingerprints were found on the weapon and on the bodies, Jacob Williams was found guilty and sentenced to lifetime imprisonment.”

“What about Harper’s confession?” Elliot asked.

“The court re-opened his father’s case. This time, he’s acquitted from the massacre of his family.” Goodman answered. “

“What happened to Harper after?” Levin asked.

“Harper continued to take therapy.” Goodman brought out photographs of different drawings. They were Harper’s. He kept drawing the mutilated bodies. Goodman pointed out an oddly shaped object in one of the drawings.

“What is that?” Elliot asked.

“After more therapy sessions, Harper revealed that he kept his victims’ internal organs in a wine barrel on one of their old warehouses.”

Elliot and Levin made a disgusted face.

“The police searched the said warehouse and found the rotting organs. In respect, they buried it in the town cemetery.” Goodman answered.

This time, it’s Levin who glanced at the clock. It read two-fifteen in the morning.

Elliot shifted from his seat. “What happened to his father? And Vanessa? And Harper?”

“No one knew where Jacob Williams went. Vanessa opened her own bar years later. I heard she’s passed away just recently.” Goodman added sadly. “Harper’s still in the Hospital.”

“Oh.” Was all Elliot can say.

Goodman gathered all the pictures he placed out. Levin handed him the papers and the maps as well. He replaced them at the file case carefully. He closed the file.

“Thank you sir!” Elliot and Levin said in unison. They stood up and did a salute. Goodman smiled.

“Go do your work, ladies!” he said jokingly. The two immediately brought their chairs back to their desks.

Frederic Goodman placed the file case back in his drawer. He sighed. He’s been through a lot. And in a few years, he’s going to retire, and this legendary case is finally going to rest too.