Chapter 1
The drive from the Royal Hotel to Walter McCormack’s home was short and relatively straight forward. Walter however, usually made it more challenging with the twelve, or so beers floating around in his blood stream.
Driving over the legal limit was something he’d grown accustomed to. It became his daily norm after his wife left him and he retired from work.
To numb the pain and the loneliness, Walter spent his afternoon and into the evenings, propping up the end of the Royal Hotel bar, where he knocked back schooner after schooner, until they kicked him out at closing, or he ran out of money.
Every night, he staggered from the bar to his car, fumbled with his keys, usually dropped them at least once, before finding the ignition.
Every night, he somehow managed to drive his car home, where he’d eventually pass out, only to rinse and repeat the next day.
Tonight, was no exception. As he slowly crawled and swerved his car along the back streets, the passenger side wheels of Walter’s car mounted the kerb, before he reacted late and swung the vehicle back onto the road.
‘Woops…’ he said, then giggled to himself.
His glazed, bloodshot eyes lifted to his rear vision mirror. No damage… He sighed his relief.
The vehicle’s left-hand indicator continued to flash from when he turned a corner about four streets back. The bright amber flashes repeated against the dark of night.
When he arrived home unscathed, his vehicle’s wheels hit the kerb with a jolting thud, after he misjudged the turn into his driveway. He left his vehicle parked on a forty-five-degree angle across his driveway, and stumbled out his car door.
Walter patted his pockets, as he staggered to his front door. He stopped on the front porch, while he dived a hand into every pocket, searching for something.
As if in a trance-like state, Walter stumbled back to his car, reached in through the driver’s door, which he’d forgotten to close, and dragged the keys out from the ignition.
When he returned to his front door, Walter dropped the keys twice before he eventually found the front door lock and opened the door.
He only made it as far as the lounge room. After he turned on the TV, he collapsed back into his arm chair and fell into his regular, alcohol-fuelled sleep, where he often remained until morning.
Up until now, tonight was a carbon copy of every night of Walter’s miserable later-life. But unbeknown to Walter, that was all about to change.
While Walter slept off his nightly bender, the silhouette of a darkened figure slowly slinked along the front path, from the driveway, towards the front door of Walter’s home.
The mysterious figure paused at the front porch when he found the front door wide open. He checked his surrounds were clear from prying eyes, adjusted his balaclava, then slowly entered Walter’s home.
The lounge light was on. Walter slouched on the chair in front of the TV, with his back to the intruder. A late-night movie played at an elevated volume.
The intruder slowly inched his way around to the front of the chair. As he did so, it became evident Walter was asleep.
The sneering intruder stood at Walter’s feet. He scoffed and shook a disgusted head at the vomit trail down Walter’s bearded chin, to his chest and the wet stain around Walter’s groin.
He made his way to the kitchen, returning a short time later with the largest knife from the knife block in Walter’s kitchen.
The intruder kicked Walter’s leg. No response. He kicked the same leg again, only this time harder.
‘Hey…Walter, you piece of shit. Wake up…’
Walter didn’t flinch.
He slapped Walter’s face repeatedly until Walter’s bleary eyes showed proof of life.
He held his head close to Walter, glaring at him until Walter realized someone was standing there.
Walter’s bloodshot eyes widened when his waking vision noticed someone in a black balaclava standing in front of him. The intruder ripped off his balaclava.
Walter’s eyes flared. ‘You…’ Walter blurted when he recognized the face staring back at him. He feebly tried to push himself away in his lounge chair. ‘Come back to finish me off this time, have you…?’
The intruder slowly moved around to stand behind Walter’s chair. Walter’s eyes followed. He peered up over a shoulder at the person standing behind. ‘What are you doing here…? What do you want…?’ Walter slurred. He tried to twist his upper body around to look up at the man behind him.
‘This is for what you did to me when I was just a kid…you fucking piece of shit…you ruined my life and now… you’re gunna pay.’
The intruder plunged the twenty-five centimetre blade into Walter’s chest, all the way to the hilt. While the light faded from Walter’s eyes, he continued his frantic attack.
Walter’s body bounced and jolted from the forceful thrusts. The first plunge of the large blade dissected Walter’s heart. He never felt anything that followed.
While Walter’s lifeblood gushed from his body in rivers, the intruder calmly ambled into the kitchen, grabbed a tea towel, then returned to Walter’s body.
He soaked the tea towel in Walter’s escaping blood, then used it to scrawl the message, “PEDOPHILE” in sixty-centimetre letters across the lounge room wall.
When he was finished, he stood back to admire his work. As a final act of disrespect before leaving, he scrunched up the blood-stained tea towel between his hands, then pitched it at Walter’s lifeless, blood-soaked body.
