Branches Book

BRANCHES

breath became hot and short, and his free hand curled into a sweaty fist that swung forward with every other step he took. The sweat on his forehead dripped down dripped into his eyes. However, Brewster only hastened his pace. He couldn’t lose him. Just a few feet behind him, Brewster leaped into the air and tackled Martin to the ground. Martin lay limp on the ground trembling. Brewster roughly handcuffed Martin’s hands behind his back, smiling in the process. He alone had captured the infamous serial killer. His moment of pride was then interrupted by the muffled words “please don’t kill me.” Brewster froze in surprise. This man was afraid of a respected and well- known detective, the enforcer of the law, killing him? Brewster concluded that this must be some desperate ploy to escape his doomed fate. “STOP TALKING!” he shrieked while proceeding to slam Martin’s face against the concrete ground. Martin didn’t listen. Instead, he cried out, “I won’t tell anyone you were there this morning. I swear. Not a soul.” Confused, Brewster looked down at his hands pressing Patterson’s face into the concrete. They were covered in scratches. Brewster’s face paled. He then examined his arms to find long scratches running up his arms. Brewster’s eyes widened, his blood ran cold. “No,” he whispered, the realization downing upon him. “I couldn’t have.” He was immobile, frozen in peril. He began to see it, and the smile that formed while he murdered her. He began to remember the thoughts that clung to his brain. The incessant desire to experience ultimate power. To be God for just a moment. To feel their last breath leaving their body. He looked down at his hands. The hands belonging to a murderer. More memories began to wash over him, a women’s mouth, rigid and open, filled with a raw scream of hysteria, agony, and disbelief. Brewster could hear their screams in his head. All of them, like shards of glass tearing through his sanity. Then, all of a sudden, the noise stopped and left the forceful blow of guilt behind. Brewster’s guilt seemed to expand inside his brain, filling his mind with violent images. His eyes, unable to see anything else, became heavy with shame. Brewster’s shoulders sagged and one by one he dragged his body, limb by limb, into a standing position. His body once energized with confidence now felt uninhabited. He trudged home.

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