Mark Delaney

Beep! Beep! Beep!

 Half-awake, my left hand fumbled along the rough surface of the nightstand, desperately trying to locate the source of the annoying sounds. Finally, the warmth of my hand came in contact with the cold hard metal of the alarm clock, and with a decisive whack, I stopped the insistent ringing. Sigh. Finally, some peace and quiet. I squinted at the clock, trying to make out the time. 3….3.30AM. Huh. That’s odd. Why did I set an alarm for 3.30AM?

 I got up to my feet and looked around me. Boring, grey concrete formed the four walls of the room. In one corner of the room, there was a work desk that barely had anything on it, just an old laptop and some papers. An odd, nauseating smell conquered the room – like the smell of forgotten leftovers in an office pantry’s fridge. The sorry excuse of a light hanging from the ceiling had been left on for some reason, blinking every so often. Did I forget to turn it off before I slept? Why was everything so unfamiliar?

 I sat back down on the bed – which was probably the most expensive thing I owned, considering how comfortable it looked compared to the rest of the items in the room. It was quite large as well, being a queen sized bed. All of a sudden, something on the bed caught my eye – something that I didn’t notice earlier due to my grogginess. There was something – or someone? – under the blankets.

 Tentatively, I reached out and pulled back the covers… To my horror, there was what appeared to be a human body. I say ‘appeared’, because it had already entered the stages of decomposition. I would rather not give you the details, but I threw up from the sight.

 After that, I sat down – on the ground this time, and far away from the puddle of vomit, obviously – and tried to gather my thoughts. The problem was – I couldn’t recall anything that led me to this moment. I had memories, but even those felt unfamiliar – as if they were yet to happen. I racked my brain, trying to find something, anything at all, to help me out of this dismal situation. I had no recollection of previous events; no alibi. Calling the police would lead to my imminent downfall.

 Think, think, think! What’s one thing I can remember? I hit my head against the hard walls, hoping to find the answer to my question through brute force. Despite the fact that my method was unorthodox, it worked wonders. My brain finally decided to do its job.

-

 In the memory, I was sitting with my back facing against the wall in a cold, busy room. People in uniform were walking to and fro, dangerously large amounts of paperwork in their arms. Next to me, there were several burly men which had tattoos covering both their entire arms. To my surprise, I was the one in handcuffs instead of them.

 On the flat-screen TV attached to the opposite corner of the room, a news channel was on.

“The notorious serial killer Mark Delaney has finally been caught after ten years of activity,” the reporter said as the picture of a man showed up on the screen. “Mark is a serial killer who hid under his victims’ beds for long periods of time, before attacking them in their sleep. Then, he would sleep next to the dead body of his victim, and leave hours before people realize the victim is missing, and police arrive. However, yesterday, police managed to arrive in time due to a noise complaint from neighbors, catching him red-handed in his act,” she continued, as a video of the crime scene started playing.

 It looked a lot like the room I was in – dark, boring, and desolate…with the exact same furniture, and the same useless, blinking light.

“Here, we have a special guest with us. This is Dr. Jas Ski, who is one of the worlds’ most renowned psychologist. Doctor, what could have caused Mark to slip up after a decade of experience in killing?” the reporter asked.

“Well, my professional opinion would be that Mark Delaney recently experienced something that triggered something in him, which in turn led to the downward spiral of his mental health, thus hindering his effectivity in killing,” the man replied.

“I heard that you’ve been looking into Mark Delaney’s case since last year. If you were to make a guess, why do you think he started killing in the first place?”

“His files state that he was a part of a tragedy from his childhood years. His father was abusive, and a week after Mark and his mother managed to escape from him, his mother died in her sleep of a heart disease. This all happened while young Mark was only five. Having no idea how to call for help, he is said to have laid with his mother in bed for several days before neighbors smelled the rotting flesh and came to his rescue. I believe that this traumatic event left an imprint on Mark, and that has affected his mental development growing up.”

“Thank you for your insight, Doctor. Mark Delaney is now under interrogation by the police and will be going to court on the 31^st October. Now, onto Susan for updates on sports,” the reporter on the news said, arranging her paperwork as she ended her report.

-

 What was that? Why do I know that? Why does the room from the news look like the room I was currently in? Was that man…me? Am I…Mark Delaney?

 As I slowly descended into insanity with the countless questions overflowing my mind, I couldn’t help but laugh hysterically.

 What was the point? If that was truly me, my life already ended here. There was no point in trying to figure out a way to escape. I could only give up and enjoy what was left of my crumbling life. I looked back at the body on the bed, warm and comforting, much like the carcass of my mother from my childhood years, and decided to lay next to someone for the last time in my life.