Small towns have a way of being, anyone that's ever lived in one could tell you that. A delicate balance and hierarchy. Certain tranquility that rocks a community when disturbed.

Nick's return had been one of those things just as many of his previous milestones had been. This time was different, however, he was alone and withdrawn. He learned to keep his head down the second time around, learned that a smile is a weapon in the hands of someone who knew how to wield it. This wasn't something he had noticed a decade ago

It became increasingly apparent as the days unfolded, no mother and child to act as a buffer between him and this world. He was quiet, some even described him as cold. He could see why the description he'd hear the tail end of circulated. He fit the description to a T. It made sense. He had the means and the past. It just.. fit.

He could admit, he hadn't made it easy on them or himself by shutting himself away in that house day in and day out, but the thing was, he hadn't been the one to invite the neighbors, make the plans. For years he had been content in having his plans made for him. Sarah used to say, it's what made them such a good team. She was one of few who could see beyond the exterior and on occasion, she could bring it out of him.

As of late, new whispers had echoed as a new string of murders ran through the town. Gruesome, violent, unnecessary. It seemed to be the vein that ran through the town. Evidence would suggest the killings weren't sexual in nature, neither was anything of value taken, except for their life.

Nick had caught glimpses of the corpses, limbs poking out of body bags. Blood, scratch marks. On occasion, he'd get some more information by overhearing the gossip at his new place of work. The imagination captured a worse image than his memory collection of that very same scene. The worse of it was the pool of blood. It brought back memories of when he was the one covered in a splotchy layer of red and Sarah before. It just brought up questions, those he elected to ignore.

He had the urge to wash his hands.

The citizens seemed to look at him for some semblance of an answer, anything to ease the fear that each new find brought on with no traction from the police force. Some even said that given his experience with these traumatic experiences he should have some kind of insight into this madman. Sometimes he wondered if it could even be labeled as such given that he remembers so little of the actual acts, his only experience was the aftermaths. The image is vivid but it's open for interpretation.

So when the news dropped, he only sighed, all links to the sanctity of life starting to fade with each passed name etched in black in the newspaper. That was, however, until he recognized the name. It hadn't been that he had known her in any sense of the word but her presence had been familiar.

Every morning, same time she'd walk her cat as he left for work. This had puzzled Nick as a concept. An interesting walking companion complete with harness and the black cat didn't seem to mind it until he wanted to catch a butterfly, followed by a pathetic meow when he was kept back by the cord.

Nick had briefly reconsidered owning a pet after a few days of seeing the pair. Something to love, something to take care of amidst the emptiness in his home but the thought died as soon as it came, by the time he got into his car his mind was already on another subject.

But now she was gone, along with the cat and the routine when he walked out the door. When he walked out the door on this day, he felt the void the routine had established. He briefly wondered if the cat would be alright.

Not long until news spread, the same path followed as the previous death, except the whispers would grow with each addition. To many, these were just numbers, topics of discussion while those who had been affected hid away and dealt as best they could. Nick has a slightly altered perception, knowing her but not really knowing. Whispers along sidewalks like everyone knew a secret he didn't, though he chalked that up to people not wanting to seem like they're trivializing a tragedy. It now has gotten to a point where people had gotten more fearful and wary as the police force battled to avoid a panic. 

An overheard discussion with his morning coffee from a man he'd maybe spoken to thrice since his, shall we say, reawakening. Three years and people were still wary of him, rumors about what he does alone in that house. At least, that was the case before the murders started. Consistently once a month with a few days difference, at least, that's what he hears. He hadn't really done the calculations himself. 

Rumour has it her organs had been dug out, they would've assumed an extremely unlikely animal attack had it not been that this was the sixth. They were growing in aggression it would seem. The claw marks at the scene were a surprise, perhaps it had been an animal this time. It could've been the case if it wasn't for the trail of blood alluding to the fact that the body was moved. Three blocks from where he lived, if he had the street layout right. 

Nick felt uneasy, twitching in his wrist as he listened like he was supposed to be doing something he forgot about. The brain had a way with creation, a way with imagination that surpassed most other entities. It definitely had a way of filling in the gaps with equal, if not excessive, realism. Nick felt something bubbling at the back of his throat, anger at the loss of life perhaps, or sadness, worry, perhaps a little something less in touch with reality. 

Maybe it was too much like his past was haunting him. Too much blood and chaos that brought him back to the moment he last saw Sarah and Teddy. Brought back the splattered walls and red-stained hands as he was left alone until the sirens came. Maybe it was the voices, the whispering voices that never seem to go away. 

Wordcount: 1650