Brian drove the truck to the pharmacy. On the passenger seat, Arthur sat quietly after his first kill. The only thing he could think about was the cold metal in his hand tearing up the warm skin. The dark, thick crimson blood poured out, revealing the pink internals of the girl. How her heart was still beating and how Brian plucked it out.
The heart was kept in a glass jar in the glove box. It made no sense something that was once alive, was inside a living, moving human was now closed in a glass jar and was kept in a pathetic place like a truck's glove box.
Brian took the truck behind the pharmacy. Arthur got down first, as Brian parked the car among the barrels. He took out the heart jar and handed it to Arthur. Arthur looked at the heart closely – the big pipes and small veins that went Crisscross the muscle lump, as Brian hid the truck with barrels and then covered it with a plastic sheet.
The sun was rising from the horizon, the highway outside the pharmacy was being painted in orange light. Brian welcomed Arthur from the back door. It was a storeroom, which Brian also used as his home. It was all neatly organized boxes on metal shelves and then there was a bed, a table and a chair.
There was no accommodation or even a sitting chair for a second person. Arthur assumed Brian never had any guests. And he was the first person to ever enter this room. Brian gestures to Arthur to take the chair, while he got his revolving chair from the pharmacy.
"I think, I'm going to keep the pharmacy closed today, we will celebrate your first kill," said Brian excitedly.
"Won't it arouse suspicion, if the cops came to know your store was closed next morning after the murder," said Arthur. "I like the way you think, the cops never even get close to me, but okay if you say so, I'll open the store in a few hours but we will celebrate in the night," said Brian. Brian observed Arthur was sleepy, his eyelids dropping low.
"You can sleep in my bed if you want, I'm used to staying awake for a couple of days and night," boosted Brian. Arthur looked at the single bed with a white sheet, no other colour no design, not even a blue line. "No," Arthur said a little too strongly. He didn't want to sleep in another man's bed and of course, not in the bed of a serial killer.
Even though he had killed a girl a few hours back. Arthur didn't put himself in the Brian category. Arthur was killed because he wanted to learn. It was just like students cutting frogs in the biology labs. Purely for educational purposes and even if he wasn't there, Brian would still kill those girls. Nothing will be different; his presence was inconsequential for others but himself, he could bring his life back on the tracks.
He still didn't know why Brian killed but he was too tired right now to delve into the minds of a serial killer with a glass jar consisting of a heart in his hand. "I'll go back to the motel," said Arthur. "Your car is still at the motel; how will you go?" reasoned Brian like he wanted Arthur to stay.
Arthur looked out of a tiny ventilation space; morning light seeped through the grills. "I'll get a bus, it's almost morning," said Arthur and then rose from his chair.
Brian revolved in his chair, "Alright, then I'll see you tonight." This was an invitation, from someone who had maybe never received or had sent an invitation. But Arthur understood. "Sure," said Arthur and then walked out of the back door.
Arthur tried hard not to fall asleep on the bus. The cool air was relaxing his tired body. Arthur just wanted to reach the motel fall on his bed. Arthur didn't like calling the motel bed, his bed. "This is temporary, I'll go back to my family soon," he said. He missed how Daniel kept juggling the ball in the hall. How Nadia always asked Daniel to not make noise or go to the park. Daddy is writing, she used to tell Daniel in a hushed tone.
"I'll be a better husband and father when I return home," Arthur whispered. He got down at the gravel road. The bus only took him so far. He walked the gravel road. The sun was almost up. Arthur started to sweat a bit. The owner waved at him from a distance. Arthur waved back.
"Morning walk? Asked the owner when Arthur reached the audible range. "Yes!" lied Arthur. Arthur took an ice tea from the vending machine and went to his room. Arthur removed his boots, gulped the ice tea and went to sleep.
It was late evening when Arthur woke up, the sun was down and the stars had started to shine. Arthur took a shower. Thanks to Brian's protective gear, Arthur had no bloodstains to clean. Arthur liked Brian's efficiency. He made a mental note to include this as a trait for the villain in his book.
Arthur wanted to start writing as soon as possible. The murder had a real impact on him. It's fine to see documentaries of operations and violent movies on-screen but take opening a real alive person, to see that person through while they screamed and spilt blood at the same time. That was something very different. Almost like peeking into a person's soul. If people had souls.
He turned off the shower and came out. Dried himself and wore a t-shirt and some loose trousers. Tonight, he didn't have to chase anyone, tonight was about knowing Brian a little more closely. To understand him better.
Arthur spotted the copy of his first novel by the lamp. He took the book and hold it close. This book, these pages and the ink on them had saved his life last night. And the book he is going to write next will make this life worth living.
He put the book back at the owner's counter and left in the car to meet Brian, his serial killer host.