Here We Are Again

Let us begin at the end.

Hutchinson sat restlessly in his chair, the news reporter sitting across from him. Before the reporter could ask a question Hutchinson spoke, "How many times does one have to kill to become a murderer?''

The reporter was taken aback obviously not expecting such a question. Warily she replied, “just once.”

“Just once,” said Hutchinson almost as if he was testing the words himself. “Well, I guess I am a murderer,” Hutchinson murmured.

“and why do you say that?”

Unshed tears framed Hutchinson’s eyes, unwilling to fall. Hutchinson turned towards the reporter and as if on cue, the tears hanging on for dear life fell softly onto his cheek. “Because I’ve killed myself and others so many times,” he said quietly.

*rewind to earlier that day*

Standing on a walkway cloaked, Leader Hutchinson watched people pass. Everyone dressed in black and their necks showing proudly a faint green light from within. The only true color in this world. The sky was always grey never changing, but today’s sky was darker than ever, as it was some type of warning. Life here was like a black and white movie. Even the sun hid in fear that its color would be taken away.

Hutchinson had fine lines creasing his feature, many grey strips of hair determined to take over. And that small crinkle in his eyes gave way to his age. It was time for a change. Hutchinson despised the Change with every fiber in his body. Even though he didn’t know the true year he knew it was time for a Change. The Change was a process that all leaders go through and no matter how much they fought the Change the process was always completed. With every Change, Hutchinson grew more and more tired with the weight of the guilt that threatened to crush him.

A flash of white pulled him from his thoughts. A man had approached him. If only people knew how dangerous he was they wouldn’t even glance his way Hutchinson thought. The man had blindingly white hair and he was young. He would be perfect for the changing Hutchinson thought. The man looked at him concerned, only then Hutchinson realized that he was still lost in thought. Shaking his head he focused on the man, “I’m sorry, I was lost in thought, how may I help you?” Hutchinson said forcing a smile on his face.

The man beamed at him cheerily “ Well I know you are Leader Hutchinson and I was wondering if you could help me with this.” The man points to his neck where usually there is a faint green light, but nothing was there. Hutchinson was less concerned about the light that had gone out and was more concerned that this ma was too trusting. Hutchinson had learned that trusting people too easily was a big mistake. Hutchinson directed his attention to the man, he couldn’t refuse him because he was a leader, and it was his job to lead.

Hutchinson grunted a “Follow me,” underneath his breath. The man followed him with a bounce in his step almost as if he was on a trampoline.

Hutchinson stopped suddenly aware that he never got the man’s name, “Your name?” he asked.

“The name's Erin,” The man replied with a smile.

Hutchinson and Erin continued down the path, as they wandered Erin chattered away, the problem momentarily forgotten by both. Hutchinson’s feet led him unknowingly to the last place he wanted to be. If Hutchinson had been paying attention he would have steered them in a different direction but he was distracted by Erin’s chatter. They had ended up in front of a wooden door, a door that was tainted with blood and bad memories. Before Hutchinson could stop Erin, he had opened the door and was bounding down the stairs. Hutchinson felt conflicted if he went after Erin there was no stopping what was coming next. In the short time, he had known him Hutchinson grew fond of Erin. With a wave of sorrow, Hutchinson followed slowly. At the end of the stairway stood Erin with shock written on his face, with traces of fear. Erin tried to run. Hutchinson caught him easily by the neck and dragged him to a table with straps effortlessly restraining Erin.

The invisible force that urged Hutchinson to complete the Changing was persistent. There was no fighting it because, in the end, the results would still be the same. Grabbing a knife from the top of a rack he slowly approached Erin. It wasn’t until Hutchinson felt the drops of tears roll down his face that he realized he was crying. In all of the years that he’s done this Hutchinson has never cried. The tears flowed like a river when Hutchinson put the knife against Erin’s neck. They flowed so strongly he could barely see clearly. Hutchinson pressed the knife harder into Erin’s skin and a trickle of blood followed. Erin seemed to be doing better than Hutchinson. Erin hadn’t moved when the knife was pressed against his neck. Hutchinson’s salt and pepper hair was slick with sweat as he stared into the eyes of his victim. Erin barely breathed as he stared right back. Forcing himself to look away Hutchinson pushed the knife deeper as Erin’s body grew stiffer. But Erin didn’t move. The only time he moved was when his lifeless body fell backward onto the bed.

Heaving heavily Hutchinson grabbed a port and plugged it into Erin’s blood-covered neck, he plugged the other end into his own neck. The green light in Hutchinson’s neck indicated every memory that someone made was record into the chip connected to the light. Hutchinson downloaded all of his memories, all of his sins onto Erin’s chip their memories became intertwined along with the memories of many more before him. It was the law that as a leader you must carry the burden of every victim’s memories with you. Every memory leading up to the day that you killed them. These memories carried feelings so strong it felt like the weight of the world was upon you. With all these memories that were not his, Hutchinson found himself missing memories that he never made himself, he finds himself missing people that he never met.

At that moment Hutchinson was glad that Erin’s light had gone out, It meant that the last couple of hours weren’t recorded. Hutchinson wanted to forget. He didn’t have time for remorse he had an interview in a short time. He bid his former body well as the rest of the process began.

When Hutchinson woke he strode to the mirror and looked at his new body. His hair was white and blinding, his physic was of a young man in his early 20s. And on his neck was a long scar, that looked freshly healed. When Hutchinson closed his eyes all he saw was blood. He rushed to the sink and scrubbed and scrubbed until his hands were sore and raw. But it did nothing to get rid of the blood that was painted on his hands. Pulling himself together Hutchinson got dressed in all white. Standing in front of the mirror again he looked at himself as he raised his arms,” Here we are again.”

Hutchinson sat restlessly in his chair, The news reporter sitting across from him. Before the reporter could ask a question Hutchinson spoke, "How many times does one have to kill to become a murderer?''

The reporter was taken aback obviously not expecting such a question. Warily she replied, “Just once.”

“Just once,” said Hutchinson almost as if he was testing the words himself. “Well, I guess I am a murderer,” Hutchinson murmured.

“And why do you say that?”

Unshed tears framed Hutchinson’s eyes, unwilling to fall. Hutchinson turned towards the reporter and as if on cue, the tears hanging on for dear life fell softly onto his cheek.

“Because I’ve killed myself and other so many times,” he said quietly. But anger took over his features as he stood slowly. “Things wouldn’t be this way if people weren’t so naive and carefree.” Hutchinson snapped. He looked at the reporter and whispered, “Ask what my problem is.” When the reporter didn’t say anything Hutchinson took out his gun his hands shaking. “Ask me what my problem is!” he bellowed.

“W-what is your p-problem?” the reporter managed to stutter.

“My problem is with people who are too trusting, people like you,” Hutchinson said as he pointed the gun at the reporter. The reporter’s face was etched in pain and shock as blood seeped from their shirt. Hutchinson looked at the lifeless body, a grim smile graced his lips, his hands trembling as he raised his arms. He stared into his victim’s eyes as he pressed the gun to his head, “Here we are again!”