THE MAN BY THE HALLWAY

He grabbed her by the leg, just as she was about to burst out the apartment door.

Holy sh*t, is this how I die? She thought.

She struggled hard to slip past his grip, and once she had the chance, she kicked him so hard on his sturdy stallion, and made a run towards the rooftop, while he held his hands in between his legs, grunting in pain momentarily.

Now, she was faced with a bigger problem and he knew it.

She had two options, make that jump off the rooftop, and risk falling 25 feet below, if she doesn't make the jump to the next rooftop, or, accept her fate in the hands of this strange man. She chose the former. She might end up dead both ways, but she would rather die fighting.

And so she made the jump.

It was always a wide goose chase; all effort to uncover the three years psychopath, with fiveteen unsolved rape, murder, and kidnap by random cases proofed abortive, until she survived.

Mary finally woke up after a week under intensive care, and much to her surprise, she was alive. As soon as she woke, she was frantic about the man who put her in that state, but was relieved to see she was heavily surrounded by loved ones and security, and so she got to work. She was given the cardboard and pencil she requested, and thanks to a degree in fine arts, Mary drew every detail she remembered of him.

He is a 6.8 foot tall man, with a deep scar on his neck, a missing pinkie, and a prosthetic leg which he might have sustained from his previous attacks. She also identified he was a chubby man with long blonde hair, but we knew it would be easy for him to alter his looks, so we stuck to the tangibles.

He would have been lucky, if she didn't see him lurking about the hallway suspiciously, a few feet from her door, waiting for her to open it. Instead, she walked past her door, trying to stylishly alert her neighbors, but everyone was at the carnival. She increased her pace, he did the same, and then it hit her, this was her situation to handle, no one was coming to help her. She trembled as she tried to give her report, so we had to let her rest.

After full recovery, the detectives came in to have a word with Miss Mary. It was time to meet face to face with that psychopath.

Standing eye to eye with this man was very challenging for Miss Mary, but it was crucial to solving the case. Her analysis was the lead to tracking five rape cases, six more murders, and four kidnap reports.

Mr. Will, as he is originally called, is a jovial, slender, dark haired, innocent-looking man in his mid-forties, with a good paying white collar job, a wife, and two kids. He looked like he wouldn't hurt a fly, and he totally had no reason to prey on women, but of course, he was good looking, so he could get any woman, if he wanted to. I could see confused faces, as he stood before the jury, ready to face judgement at last.

She recounted every detail she had shared with us, and I was once again proud of her bravery.

“Those few seconds, flying in the air, was the longest countdown of my life. A gun pointed at me at the other end, a great possibility that I might fall, and a little glimpse of hope that I will make it to the other building. One foot on the rooftop, I almost heaved a sigh of relief, but that sigh quickly turned into a gasp of fear, as I slipped off the building. I saw the smile on his face, a guarantee that I would not survive that fall, and so I shut my eyes and accepted death.” A few drops of tears trailed her cheeks, as she re-lived that moment.

It was a miracle he survived, thankfully, the cluster of people at the carnival reduced her fall impact, as she landed on bodies. She was wheeled into the courtroom with fractured bones, but determination to have that man pay for his atrocities.

Her face tightened, trying to hold back more tears as she told her story. He wasn't remorseful, not even before his wife and neighbors there to witness. He would smile, smirk and scoff at her narration, you could tell he enjoyed every bit of his hunt chase.

Other witnesses pulled up, a few from his rape and attempted murder cases, and it was good to know that concrete evidences against him won the odds. His scar was a big one and obvious to everyone, but his victims, until Mary. His prosthetic leg was a strange discovery by his family who he lied to while on vacation, that he was involved in an accident, and had to stay back at a hospital for weeks, getting his legs worked on. His finger was chopped off by a surviving victim, but he wore a false silicone finger to replace the lost pinkie.

It was easy to not have Mr. Will under the radar due to his public show of kindness, and participation. He was the kind of neighbor to call an ambulance or police for help, to advise children, and be respectful to women. He also had no case of domestic violence towards his wife, he was the sweetest husband. Then why kill? One would ask. He chose them, handpicked them, all for fun. He enjoyed every rape cry, hummed at every death plead, and gave back to the society, money he made from his ransom.

“The defendant, Mr. Will Shady, is found guilty of five rape cases, four kidnaps, and ten murder incidents. He is hereby sentenced to white torture, for life, without the possibility of parole…”

His eyes widened, sockets almost falling off from shock. He thought he'd get a quick death, but the court gave him a befitting torture, fit for his personality. He would spend his years in a white cell, dressed in all white, confined, and surrounded by only the color white all through his miserable years. He wronged many women, for fun, and did not fear death, but now he would have to face a slow and solemn misery, every day, questioning his actions, his decisions, and even his identity, he certainly would be no better than a mad man.

He must have thought his friend-to-all card would keep him in the shadows, although it did sustain him long enough. As he staggered out of court, you could see it finally dawned on him that his game was over. He had his fun, and now, it was time to dance to the beat of the drum, and he would dance to it, dusk to dawn, till he could no longer hear the tune. Now, it's good riddance to bad rubbish.