An Error in Design

TRIGGER WARNING:

Physical violence

Gore

Mental health

Chapter 1: It felt right.

I walked around the charred wooden table. She sat, tied up on the other end. Her name was Sadie Hobbes.

I came to stand directly behind her. I slipped the damp rag out of her mouth. "Tell me something," I began.

She didn't turn back to look at me; she didn't gasp for air or curse. She was different. I didn't like that. "What?" She spat.

There it is—the defiance, the sheer craving for dominance that I knew all too well.

“What do you think is happening right now?” I asked her. “Do you know the reason I have taken you?”

That was when she turned to look at me. Her eyes were murderous—but I was the one with the upper hand. “I don’t know you,” she said.

“But, you do. Look a little more closely, Sadie. Notice how my nose is crooked. This jagged scar on my jaw…”

I saw the moment the realization hit her in the face. When the pieces in her grey eyes finally clicked together. “Knox,” she whispered.

“Correct. I’m offended, Hobbes. You didn’t recognize me.”

Hobbes and I were in a serious relationship in high school. She broke up with me because of my emotional unavailability. None of it was fair. I followed all the correct steps, but somehow, it still didn’t work.

It was the most humiliating moment of my life. After everything happened, she wouldn’t even meet my gaze; I was invisible to her. She spread rumors about me. I was used to people overlooking me, but now, their faces twisted in disgust as I walked by. I didn’t have much of a reputation to begin with. In the end, I didn’t have it in me to graduate.

Sadie turned away from me. She kept her gaze down on her lap. I circled the table and sat at the other end.

“What are you going to do?” She rasped.

I grinned widely. Something dark stirred in the bottom of my stomach. I leaned forward and took one of the knives. Her eyes widened. For the first time, she struggled against the binds—the zip-ties cutting through her flesh, the rope holding her back against the chair.

This would be fun. Sadie Hobbes deserved all the suffering she would soon get. She’d finally know what it felt like to be powerless in a situation you didn’t see coming.

I crawled over to her. She looked up at me, her eyes terrified. She was too proud to apologize, even now. Her begging for mercy would have made it so much more entertaining…

I hadn’t done this before. But it felt right.

I put the rag back into her mouth. Screaming was an inconvenience I did not want to be confronted with. I placed the flat edge of the knife to her cheek. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for an opening, an escape. A small bead of blood rolled down her face.

I pushed it in deeper.

Chapter 2: There was supposed to be something.

It was almost four am. The puddled streets would be empty, the road would be deserted. It was perfect. I slipped out of the shed’s window, leaving the body inside to hopefully be found. I walked the mile home in the pouring rain.

My apartment was small. It had one bedroom, a bathroom, no living room, and a stove. I kicked my shoes off and slumped onto my bed.

I lay there, recalling the expression on her face when her heart stopped beating.

Out of nowhere, something empty spread in my gut. I reached under my bed and grabbed a chocolate bar.

I had a TV on the wall in front of my bed. Stretching my long legs in front of me, I chomped on the chocolate, but didn’t turn the TV on. For once, I let myself be alone with my thoughts.

I never participated when I was younger. I watched from the sidelines and observed human behavior. People cry when they are sad, and they laugh when they find something funny. They scrunch their nose when they are disgusted, smell bad smells, or are disappointed.

I was never acknowledged or bullied. I was invisible. And I hated it more than anything. Sometimes, even my parents forgot about me. That was mostly because a person like Tanner is my older brother: golden boy, heir to our fortune. Pearly white smiles overshadow that little brother. He was probably adopted. People would whisper. At our mother’s funeral last year, he looked at me for the first time in a long while. I did not care to attend. He forced me. He hit me. That was when I ran away. The human mind was confusing. Somehow, even the most perfect child can end up hostile.

I didn’t take a lot of money with me. I wanted to build my own life. Away from this one. I bought this apartment—and did nothing else. With intuition like mine, you can get income from other outlets. People’s pockets, safes, wallets, purses. They all underestimated me. Now look where I’ve come. Farther than any of you thought I could.

I still keep tabs on them. None of them grieved my absence. They stayed silent on the press. No one asked questions, no one cared to ask where the missing member had gone. It bothered me more than it should have.

I opened the TV.

“Good morning, Los Angeles. My name is Toby Morales.”

Toby talked on about weather reports, sports winners, and music charts. I waited patiently for him to get to the news I wanted to hear.

“In more important matters, the body of a young woman, Sadie Hobbes, has been found at a shed leaning toward the west side of the city. Sources say her face was carved out by a knife. The killing weapon was left at the crime scene and is currently being checked for DNA traces.”

I wasn’t stupid enough to leave DNA traces on the knife. I had worn two layers of gloves before I even touched it. Toby, tell me who the suspects are.

“There are two prime suspects as of now. Thatcher Hobbes, the woman’s father, and Tanner Sterling, her boyfriend…."

Boyfriend.

The name mulled over and over in my head. I turned the TV off. I sank into my sheets. Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend.

I was not exactly hurt. But it felt weird somehow. This confused me more than anything. I should be angry, I should be sad. I should feel betrayed. All I felt was nothingness. A blunt void where my organs should have been.

Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend.

The word slowly began to lose its meaning the more I repeated it. It became just a sound rather than a concept. Something hollow.

I tried to recall what that word was supposed to mean. Attachment. Loyalty. Possession.

I pressed my palm flat on my chest, directly over my heart. It wasn’t beating as fast as it should have been. That was what I had observed from others. There was supposed to be something. Increasing pulse, shallow breathing, heat.

There was nothing.

Chapter 3: Thump… Thump… Thump…

Modus Operandi. Otherwise known as a killer’s MO. It is their method of killing. The signature that people recognize them by. Mine is quite clear. I find pleasure in seeing the bones beneath all the flesh and skin of my victims. It’s deliberate, it’s lingering. I keep my hand over their heart to feel the exact moment the beating stops. I had not killed anyone since Hobbes. I planned to.

This was solely to clear my brother’s name.

I memorized Tanner’s schedule, drugged him, and hoisted him into the trunk of my car. I drove him to that very same shed. This time, I put on a mask. I learned that a dramatic effect evokes more interesting reactions from the victims.

It was a dulled white, smooth, expressionless mask I made out of hardened papier-mache. I drilled slightly uneven eye holes—one just a fraction higher than the other, noticeable only if you stared at it long enough. The nose was just a faint ridge. The mouth was a jagged line. Slanted. While drilling, a thin crack appeared. It ran from just below the eye to the edge of the jaw. Not enough to break it, but enough to catch light at certain angles. It vaguely resembled the real scar I had.

This time, I took my time wearing my gloves. I wanted to savor it. I placed the knife in the middle of the table and tied Tanner up.

His handsome face looked tired for the very first time. His blond hair, mostly swooped to the side, now fell all over his sweaty face. His work clothes were dirty and creased. I sat on the edge of the table, directly in front of him.

I adjusted the mask slightly and stared at him through the uneven eye holes. He still hadn’t awoken. I leaned closer to make sure he was alive. My dose could not have been that strong. I pressed my fingers to his neck.

Thump. Thump. Thump…

I tilted his chin up to face me. His eyes didn’t open. It would be a while until he woke. I slipped off the table and went outside.

It was late, almost two a.m. I knew it was too risky to be out, especially after Sadie. But I didn’t know if I cared anymore. Something damp crept into my socks, and I looked down to see I was standing in a murky puddle. I stumbled back and crouched down to take my shoes off.

I saw my reflection in the puddle. I took the mask off. My hair was blond, but over the past few years, it had grown brown. My lips were dry, and my eyes were bloodshot. My neck and shoulders were tense, my jaw was set, and the scars beneath my shirt tingled.

Why, Knox? I heard my old self whispering in my brain. Why are you this way? I never wanted us to end up like this.

I stared at the water a little longer. My face blurred as the water rippled.

I am a human, that much I know. But something about me does not align with what humans are supposed to be. I watch them, I study them.

Their reactions, their fears, their patterns. I extract the parts of them that I lack. I channel it into myself.

Sometimes, I like to experiment with it.

I kill, not for revenge, but for control. I want everyone who underestimated me to know that I was not just that weird kid who lived beneath his family’s shadow. Now, everything that happens is on my terms, not theirs.

That is why, Knox. Don’t doubt me, or I will be forced to kill you, too.

The voice turned silent. I put the mask back on and treaded back to the room where Tanner began to shuffle. I sat on the table again, directly in front of him.

I didn’t move. Something about the stillness felt familiar. His eyes fluttered open. He met my gaze.

The expression on his face was something I wished I could frame. The moment he realized he got the same fate as his dear girlfriend, Sadie.

And it wasn’t even the best part yet.

“Who are you?” He exclaimed, “Why have you brought me here?”

“Always with the aggression.” I leaned forward until his nose nearly touched the hard paper. “You haven’t changed one bit.”

My brother studied my masked face. Of course, he didn’t recognize me.

“Tanner,” I felt the name roll on my tongue after so many years. I reached for the knife without reducing the distance between us. “How have you been holding up?”

His breath was shallow. His face turned white. “What do you mean?”

“Well, dear Hobbes died, what a tragedy. I assume you might be… grieving.”

His jaw tensed. Then, he tore his gaze away. I placed the flat edge of the knife on the area under his chin. He swallowed hard, his throat brushing against the knife.

I scooted closer. His body was between my legs. Should I take the mask off now? Not yet. The time will come. I replaced the knife with my hand, holding his jaw in place as I worked.

I made a thin line, tracing the knife deliberately across his hairline as the skin tore. His face twisted with pain, but he didn’t cry out. “Do you understand what’s happening?”

He raised his chin.

“Then why aren’t you reacting?” I wasn’t angry, but curious. “You are supposed to scream out in pain and fear.” I dug the knife deeper into his scalp.

Tanner winced, but still kept his eyes on the drilled holes in my mask. He examined the irises underneath. Familiarity swelled in his expression. “I’m not scared of you,” he said, shaking his head.

“Why? I have you at my mercy. You have no power here.”

He held my gaze a moment longer. “You—” he said quietly, his voice taking on a faint whimper. He squinted, hesitating. “You’re my little brother?”

I wasn’t angry about the fact that he found out. I was surprised. More at his calmness than anything. I removed the mask.

He studied my new face. “Why have you become this?”

You are just like the old Knox. You question my competence; you belittle me. I peeled off a sheet of skin from his face, and the blood stained my gloves. Tanner’s teeth were clenched, and his eyes were snapped shut. I killed him, I’ll kill you too.

Finally, when my knife touched his brow, he screamed.

— — —

My gloved hand lay flat on his sternum. I slightly unbuttoned his shirt. His chest was damp under my touch. His eyes were sunken and half-closed. His lips bled, his skull showed beneath the excess flesh on his forehead. His light hairline was bright red. The skin on his jawline was torn, pink, and burning.

I cocked my head to the side. Tanner looked up to meet my eyes through his unfocused ones. Even now, he was too proud to apologize. It isn’t selfish to want an apology for his existence.

I pressed the knife to his pulse point. Say something, brother. Give me a reason not to regret this.

“I… I don’t understand,” he croaked, “I wish I could explain myself—but I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Blood gushed from his jugular vein. It stained my gloved hands, and the sickly sweet smell hit me in the face. I leaned close and whispered into his ear.

“You didn’t have to do anything wrong, brother. You always had it coming.”

Thump… Thump… Thump…

Nothing.

I grinned widely. He met my eye for one last time before they froze, stuck in place. Gone. I leaned back and put my mask back on. I left the knife on the table. I hopped off, leaving one last glance at the dead heir.

This was done solely to clear my brother’s name.

Chapter 4: Inconsistency. Chaos.

I was always told—by the people who noticed me—that my intellect was far above that of an average student. But in the thrill of seeing Tanner Sterling dead, I let my guard down.

Of course, the cops would surveil this shed. It was a crime scene. This shouldn’t have happened. I knew better than to be so sloppy.

I had no knife; I wasn’t armed. My only weapon was my undisclosed identity. The cops in front held their guns up, aimed at me. The sheriff brought a megaphone to his mouth.

“Arms in the air!”

I raised them slowly, calculating the distance between each of them. There were eight officers in total. Six of them held their guns up, and the other two rushed into the shed. Two cops slowly approached me.

I should be afraid. For some reason, I didn’t. I felt strangely relaxed. My arms were brought behind my back. The handcuffs felt cold on my wrist. I lolled my masked head from side to side. I waited for the panic to come. It didn’t. It didn’t come when they removed the mask. It didn’t come when the cops shoved me into the back of their car. It didn’t come as the station came into view.

---

The cell was silent. Too silent. I sat on the edge of the narrow bed, my hands resting on my knees. I waited for something to settle inside me. Usually, my mind stayed quiet, and when it wasn’t, I knew how to quiet it down. But now it raged with the things I most feared.

Inconsistency. Chaos.

I tried to think clearly. It had always worked before. I raised my hand to feel the beating of my heart—in the same place I’d touched Sadie and Tanner. It was fast. I waited for it to slow, but it didn’t. A single uninvited thought surfaced beneath the uneven hammering.

Sadie Hobbes and Tanner Sterling.

I knew they were dead—I had done it. But now the idea sat differently.

My breath was shallow. Irregular. What if the old Knox wasn’t really dead?

I stood abruptly and began pacing the length of the cell. Three steps forward, three steps back. The space was too small. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t focus.

Why?

I sank to the floor and buried my head in my arms.

Why did you do it?

I didn’t give him an answer. I couldn’t. Not anymore. The walls were closing in. Even those ragged breaths didn’t seem to be coming anymore. Something wet and slippery spilled from my eyes.

I was confined with metal bars forever.

If this was how they really felt—trapped—

I understood why they screamed.

The End.