“He’s back, the ‘Bathtub Killer’, this is definitely his M.O.”
It seemed that after the girl’s body was found, everywhere he went people seemed to be in agreement over that, they all insist that he has returned. The whole police department was already strategizing, pulling up old files, calling in the big guns. They were all over themselves trying to be prepared for who they assume is responsible.
One couldn’t help but wonder if they were enjoying the panic, after all it has been over fifteen years since a crime grave enough to reach these gruesome proportions was committed in town. So, even though they were all horrified, they were still relishing in the new gossip material spreading around. After all, heaven forbid, you wouldn’t want it to turn quiet and peaceful around now would you?
What worried Caleb the most was that none of them were terrified. How on earth can the news of a killer so callous and sadistic not cause fear to jostle up their spines? A murderer that killed his victims, bled them out and then placed them in a bathtub full of their own blood with a ‘tick’ right next to their body, as if said victims were just mundane activities he had to go through on his checklist. How can they brace this news with such a calm demeanor? Even thinking it was the old killer coming back to start up his pattern again, how can they not worry over the fact that he was never caught the first time around?
Maybe it was the fact that it was fifteen years ago and not many people remembered the incidents. Maybe they just forgot the nauseating visual that came with finding the victims. After all, not all of them saw the corpses, not all of them knew of the cops who drowned themselves in alcohol to forget the sight of those mutilated bodies. Or, are they just so ridiculously arrogant and self-assured that they are convinced he wouldn’t consider them as victims?
This made Caleb stop and think. That was exactly the problem. The killer had focused on alcoholics, prostitutes, homosexuals and drag queens the first time around. They painted him up as a hero, an unconventional idealist who was trying to make the town a better place for their children, cleaning up their streets from what they called ‘immoral’ or ‘unholy’.
They cared not for the methods he used, just that he got the job done. So what if he enjoyed it too much? So what if he played a little with his victims? So what if he painted the walls with their blood?
So what if their children walked in on him whilst he did that to their mothers?
Yes. Caleb’s mother had been one of the victims fifteen years ago. After his father’s death, his mother wasn’t able to cope and drank herself to sleep every night. Caleb was twelve at the time, but he understood why his mother drank so much. She missed his father just as much as he did. The rest of the town, on the other hand, did not. They called her an alcoholic, and looked at her in disgust when she passed them by. They sneered and looked away whenever she got close up to them, making her an easy and obvious target for the killer. Caleb often wondered if they did it on purpose, they had led him to her, practically begging him to get rid of this abomination. He took them up on it and did exactly that.
Caleb had never forgiven them for this. Even fifteen years away from town had not diminished his hatred towards them and his thirst for revenge.
You see, Caleb was convinced they should be terrified because what they didn’t know was, the ‘Bathtub Killer’ is never coming back; he was killed fourteen years ago on the hands of a very angry and calculating thirteen year old.
No, it wasn’t the Bathtub Killer this time around, it was just poor old Caleb who just got back home, Caleb whose revenge was by no means fulfilled, for he as well had a checklist, and it was about time this town became a living hell.
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