Rain lashed down outside The Old Justice where Gilly stood. He was soaked to the bone. His old suit clinging wet to his skin. All about he saw people running through the storm with umbrellas and briefcases. People with something to do, or perhaps somewhere to go, or even perhaps someone to go home to.

That’s when he noticed him. A man standing there across the street.

The man with the orca hat.

His eyes were nailed on Gilly beneath the shadow of those fins. Each of them watching, waiting.

Gilly took one look… then he turned.

He was done caring about the figments of his own, rattled imagination. Nothing much mattered now. Everything he had in the world was already gone.

Daisy… was gone.

And yet even as Gilly walked his slow way home that curiously strange man watched – didn’t follow, but simply, just, watched.

***

In the time following Daisy’s trial Gilly said nothing. For a while he tried to move as normal. He went to work as normal, stayed behind as normal, and even left as normal. Even The Watcher couldn’t disturb him. Instead, Gilly would just sit there staring at the figure as it recessed into the darkness of the factory floor – those yellow-stain eyes, those yellow-stain teeth.

Alone he’d walk home as normal. In the apartment he’d sit as normal. On the tv everything was normal too, at least according to the news.

‘Normality again as this year marks the twentieth anniversary of Seldom’s role as mayor. Here in Paradise Rise Seldom finds himself once again on track for a consecutive term, especially since there are no opposing candidates who have signed up in the election against him.’

Gilly looked down to where Daisy’s backpack lay untouched against the couch, the news presenter’s words seeming to buzz and drone against his ears.

Normal they said. Normal, normal, normal.

Except minus Daisy.

Outside Gilly watched as a woman was dragged screaming around the corner by two, young men. He watched her go without blinking, her wails puncturing the night until finally they fell dead and silent beneath the cold, harsh air. It was only then that he realised he was holding something. Something scrunched there tight between his hands.

Daisy’s drawing.

He didn’t bother turning off the tv. Instead, he simply stood, turned, and left by the apartment door.

He didn’t bother to close it.

He took the fire escape to the roof then, each step slow and measured. Each step ringing as his feet hit the metallic steps of the old, rusted staircase.

Upon the roof of the four-storey building the night was chill. Above, the moon hid her face, the stars long covered and hidden from sight.

There would be no need for stars this night.

As he stepped toward the ledge he didn’t look down. He didn’t need to. He could feel the roaring darkness of the alleyway beneath.

He wondered briefly if The Watcher was there, waiting in the shadows. He let the thought fall cold from his mind, right alongside one last sigh from his chest, his breath frosting clean in the chill, night air.

Then he leapt.