[Another body was discovered discarded in the river. The other twenty bodies that have been discovered all over the city were all killed in a similar manner, all of them had been tortured but not sexually assaulted. While law enforcement is putting a lot of effort into apprehending the long-running serial killer, they kindly encourage the public to never travel alone...]
The news faded into the background. The murders had been happening since four to five years ago and a total of fifty people were found all across with one limb or an organ missing and tortured to death.
It was a cause for panic when it was first announced, but it slowly faded into another normalcy society accepted. Rarely anyone was careful, they didn't know where the threat came from making it hard to prepare against it.
In a particular apartment, a man stood by the kitchen counter, a bloody knife in his hand. He was whistling a beautiful song — it looked like he was in his element.
He wore gloves as he chopped the unrecognisable meat on his kitchen board into pieces. The apron he wore used to be beige in colour, but now drenched crimson with blood.
He didn't pay much attention to the TV as there were reports like this at least twice every month — whether it was someone missing or someone murdered.
All of his attention was stolen by the meat in front of him, he was cutting it to be in small sizes and portioning some of it in bags into the freezer.
He had a chunk of it left still, which he put in a meat grinder to make sausages for work the following morning. He preferred making his own lunch rather than buying something at the nearby shops.
"Oh look at the time. I guess I'll fry these in the morning then." He said looking at his wristwatch, then scribbled something on a piece of paper.
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He woke up early that morning feeling aches all over his body. Like he'd went to the gym the night prior. He chuckled at the thought because he wasn't someone who was very fond of moving around a lot.
This happened to him sometimes. He would wake up feeling like he'd been doing something heavy the night before but with no recollections of ever exercising.
The apartment was a decent one. It was fully furnished with the window revealing a beautiful view to the city. The sun was starting to creep into his apartment — as it did every morning.
No birds could be heard underneath the noise of trains and cars of the city.
He walked into the kitchen, half asleep and saw the note and didn't question it.
He took the sausages and threw them in a frying pan and left the stove on low while he went for a quick shower to properly wake himself up.
Putting his lunch neatly in a box he threw his entire weight on the chair. It complained with a small creak. Since his lunch would be oily he started his day with cereal.
His mind took him somewhere else. This was another thing that was part of his routine, it was something completely out of his control. His imagination was a wild one because everything he saw in there was gruesome.
Like a switch had been flipped, his eyes shot wide open. Looking down at his soggy breakfast, he drank it quickly realising he'd be running late yet again.
"Shit, this always happens." He complained to himself, getting up as fast as his stubby legs allowed him to move.
Jonathan Swindler was an ordinary man. He worked a very ordinary job, but he wasn't poor by any means.
His was a comfortable life, if he had to put a word to it he was 'middle class.' His job was enough to pay for his necessities and leave enough disposable income to play around.
He was by no means an attractive man, he was short, fat and ugly. At least that's what every woman he approached would tell him.
Jonathan didn't blame them either, he never took care of his body, he didn't eat right, his hygiene was definitely questionable.
Every woman he'd been with was only after his money and he knew it. He didn't mind spending a few dollars to have fun with ladies of the night. That was his favourite pass time apart from drinking the nights away.
He was the most unremarkable person he'd ever known. Even during school days, he was that short, fat and quiet kid who everyone bullied for no reason.
You may have heard the notion that bullying should be endured by the weak and brainy because they'll be the ones hiring their bullies in the future — what they don't tell you is that not many make it through those tiny cracks.
Jonathan was no different.
He ran out of the door, using the lift to take him down. Sweat had already made his skin wet as he opened the door of his complex building.
He took solace in the fact that his work was a walking distance but it was a blow to the groin that he had to run there.
"Mum look, he's like a giant rat!" One kid yelled pointing at him as he passed them.
The mother looked embarrassed and grabbed her child by the arm, hoisting her away. But Jonathan never stopped, he'd been called worse, he was used to it.
He was the kind of guy that made babies cry when they saw his face. That's why he would die alone, as no woman would have someone like him. He never knew his family either, abandoned at birth and was raised in the foster system.
"Late again, Jonathan?" A red-headed woman scolded him.
"I'm so sorry ma'am, I'll be better the next day." His head was bowed down as he said.
The woman shook her head as she left him standing there. She never had the guts to properly scold Jonathan, she had this sinking feeling that something wasn't right with the man.
But he was very good at his job, and very good at doing everyone else's so he was somewhat of an asset to them. That's why she looked the other way at the blatant mistreatment by others.
Jonathan raised his eyes to watch the woman's hips as she walked away from him. His lips quivered into a smile.