Two Knives

It is only in movies that the weather mimics the mood of the protagonist, and the ongoing plot, but today it seemed to share the agony of the people of the city. It fell down in sheets, as if of metal, landing hard and with loud ‘pats’ on the ground. It showed no less force as it splashed onto Reyna’s umbrella, as if lashing out against all the injustice done to the families whose members had been victims of the unexplained series of murders over the past two weeks. The police claimed to have been trying their best, but it was clearly not good enough.

Reyna walked with a pace that was commendable given that what seemed to be turning into a storm had engulfed the streets. The rain drops descended like tears from God’s eyes, crying, mourning the losses, but they were not soft or delicate. They fell like shards, promising to avenge the deaths of the city’s own. The branches of the trees stretched out and twisted in the downpour, their leaves falling like the innocent victims fell on being shot.

“This has to end,” Reyna thought to herself. “It has gone too far. I thought the police would have caught him, or that it would be a one-off incident. It’s time for me to do this.” She walked against the strong wind that whipped her wet hair onto her face and her drenched coat off her shoulders. “This has to end, and I am going to end it.”

Terror had officially struck the city two weeks ago, when the anonymous murderer smote his first victim. After that, there had been eleven deaths. The only information they had about him – obtained from CCTV footage – was that he was a man supposedly in his mid-thirties, about six feet tall, with two tattoos – one on his neck, and one on his fore arm –  both knives. There was only one person she knew who had the same marks, inked on his skin when he was just fifteen. After he saw his mother take his father’s life, and then her own six days later, there was no going back to the normal ten-year-old that he was. From that day on, he became secretive and lost. She had always been worried for him, but she would never have fathomed this. After she graduated, they lost touch and in a small place in her heart, she was thankful. He scared her – but now, she was fearless.

Nothing burnt brighter than the fire she had in her to put an end to his worthless crimes, to rid people of his crazed mind and their increasing grief. It was a fire even the pouring rain could not put out.

Battling the doing of the weather Gods, she finally reached the doorstep. She tried the door, it was open. She pushed it and as it came to rest against the wall, she looked up and saw the barrel of a gun pointed straight at her chest.

In response, she raised her own hand, where the weapon lay loaded. “Hello, brother.”

The sound of a gunshot rang through the air.