A few months had passed and I was still visiting Emilia. Our meetings were scattered but I still did my deed to show up once every week. She was doing her job by recording our meetings, I did mine by showing up.

“How long had it been since this started?” I asked, taking a seat on the couch, “Me coming to see you, that is.” I clarified.

Emilia, who was sitting in her usual spot, wrote down what was on her mind.

“Three months ago.” She replied not even glancing up. She seemed… Distracted.

“When did the first murder happen?” I asked, turning my gaze away from her frail body to the seat I was sitting upon.

“The murders were scattered throughout different times. Some happened within weeks of each other's, whereas some were separated by months. But the first ever murder we have begun suspecting you? A few years now. With the NYPD still trying to collect evidence your file and cases remain open and unsolved. Except those who fall under suicide.”

“I see.” I said letting my voice become quiet. I closed my eyes and thought back to all the faces. All the sounds and smells I had come across in these… experiences. What a delightful way to continue life.

A minute passed in silence.

I didn’t mind the silence but I would have much rather used this time to grade papers or re-evaluate tomorrow's lecture.

Another minute passed.

Emilia continued scribbling down something and she would occasionally stop and bring the pen to her lips. The clock chimed four times and I widened my eyes taking in the squared ceiling.

“Mr. Cliff?” Emilia started quietly as if speaking to a child.

“Yes?” I responded, bringing my head to take in her image once again.

“Two deaths occurred the same day you picked up your mother from the home she had currently been staying at. One was ruled as the basic ‘dying of old age’ and the other an ‘accident’. Why don’t you tell me what happened the day you went to pick up your mother?”

I drew away my gaze and began picking at my nails while biting on my inner cheek.

“That was quite a long time ago… About three years ago, no?”

Emilia nodded to my question and I took in a slow audible breath.

“I had just started my twenty-year celebration at the university when one of my colleagues told me I had a phone call.” I closed my eyes trying to remember the day.

It was raining outside and the roll of thunder could be heard a few miles away. The call was from the home my mother was at.

“The nurse on the line explained that due to upcoming circumstances I had to relocate my mother to a new home.” At the time I was slightly upset but it was nothing I didn’t see coming.

I thought about saying goodbye to my colleagues, but what was the use? They’ll all leave anyways and no one was speaking with me to begin with. Quickly walking to my lecture room I grabbed my bag, coat, and umbrella then left with efficiency from my own party.

People of all kinds swept passed me as if being carried by the flooding streets. Their dark umbrellas hiding their masks. Their coats hiding their identities.

It was as if the coming storm was trying to show the way everyone truly handled grief and pain. To hide it behind dark looming clouds and once in a while let uncontrollable anger like lightning lash out.

Though with every fight and argument, every mistake and regret, there’s repercussions. Rolling thunder reflects this and once the storm has passed you are left with racing thoughts and destruction.

Yes, the world and the people within it are all the same. We are all monsters thriving for something we can never have.

I took a cab to the Home, listening to the rain pelt against the metal machine for minutes, only for it fade slightly then to have the wind pick up carrying more rain.

Once there, I politely paid the man and walked into the Home. It smelled clean and the lights above were buzzing with electricity. I nodded at the woman behind the front desk and walked down the long hallways. I took my time however, and appreciated the sound of music coming from one of the rooms I passed by. A Cello piece. The low humming of the strings made me dive into past memories. The swaying of the notes was soothing. I’d never heard anything like it.

“The home was quiet.” I started abruptly. Emilia not being too shocked took out her notes and listened for me to continue.

“I passed by a multitude of rooms. Each slightly different from the other. Some had their lights on, others off. Some had their doors wide open, some only cracked.”

“When you arrived at your mother's door, how did you feel?”

I took a moment and flashed on the door. It was made of dark wood and had a bronze colored handle. The pattern on the door was intricate. The lines moving up and down some coming together to form a circle only to continue upwards in their normal straight lines.

“I do not know.” I answered honestly. I had the feeling of my stomach sinking deep and I was unwilling to open the door. But, brushing past the emotion I grasped the handle and stepped inside. The room was silent, motionless, empty. I crossed the bare room and stepped up to my mother who was asleep on the bed. I watched as her chest lifted slowly then fell back into place. I examined her small hands seeing her green veins sticking up from under her paper thin skin. My eyes followed a trail of creased skin, watching it end near her elbow and my eyes then followed another up to her shoulder. The roundness of her bone was odd and I moved my gaze to trace her sharp jaw. I squinted taking in her harsh features yet she seemed to look like an angel. Of course all Demons started out as angels.

Her eyes danced beneath her eyelids and I put my hand out watching it cast a shadow above her face. Her eyes opened and the look of disappointment crossed her features.Her blue iris’ soaking my figure in.

“Georgie?”

I bit my inner lip hating the sound she produced. “Mother.”

I shook my head snapping myself back to reality.

“Can we not discuss that day?” I asked. My voice had something to it. It sounded strange. A confused expression crossed my face and I lifted my hand up to my mouth covering it.

Emilia also noticed my sound and she smiled. But that smile wasn’t pleasant.

“Mr. Cliff. You sound… afraid.” She smirked.

I scowled and gave off a fiery look. “Ridiculous. How about you tell me more of those two who passed away coincidentally the same day I happened to be there.” I smiled and Emilia smiled even wider. “Well,” Emilia said, raising her hands. I listened as she clapped and within seconds shuffling footsteps could be heard entering through the door.

“The file Miss.” A female voice whispered.

“Thank you.” Emilia called and the footsteps made the walk out of the room closing the door efficiently.

Emilia opened the file flipping a few pages and sucked her teeth. “We have on file that of a Doctor S. Elmerse. Male, age eighty-four. Was well known at the facility for being a prankster of sorts. Always talking himself up and chatting with the nurses. He was a nuisance for not listening but had a clean head on his shoulders.”

Emilia scanned the contents further and held up a picture of the man for me. The photo was a headshot showing an elderly man with loose wrinkly skin. His crooked smile was fresh and his eyes were kind. Underneath a brown baseball cap was white strands with a slight hint of red to them.

“Do you recognize this man?” She asked, her eyes watching my face.

“Yes. I passed by him on my way out from my mother’s room the first time.”

“The first time?” Emilia repeated.

I nodded as my memory forced itself back into my view.

“Georgie?”

The tone was disgusting. My stomach sank and I grimaced at her sound. I took down a shallow gulp and quickly told her why I was there. “We’re moving you again. Call for a nurse to help you pack.” I then, hastily rushed from the room closing the door behind me. My mother’s eyes watched my hunched back.

I was unfamiliar with this feeling. But I knew I didn’t like it. Whenever I was close to her I wanted to be somewhere else. When she spoke I wanted to rip my ears from my head.

“I left my mother’s room so she could pack. I knew that if I stayed I’d just be an inconvenience. So I left the room and walked around for a bit.” I informed Emilia.

I recalled my slow steps as I passed by the room playing music and the sound made me stop again. I turned but froze as I caught a glimpse of my face.

Next to the room was a wide mirror. The edges were embroidered and the surface was sheen and clear. But I wasn’t admiring the object itself, instead I was examining my image looking back from inside the frame.

My face was slightly contorted and my hair a riled up mess. But my eyes. I placed my hand on the glass feeling its cool surface as I dived deeper into my gaze. My eyes were filled with an emotion I couldn’t name. I’d seen it before though.

My reflection was suddenly accompanied by another.

“Doctor S. Elmerse, Pleased to meet you sir.” He tipped his hat in a friendly mannerism and took his free hand to place on my shoulder. “What we looking at?” He began to search the reflection dramatically and I watched him giving a small smile.

An optimist I see.

“He greeted me on my walk and we chatted for a little bit. Nothing out of the ordinary. He was a gentleman in a different kind of way.” I said looking away from Emilia and putting my eyes on the new arrangement of flowers above the fireplace.

“What made him stop to talk to you?” Emilia asked, chewing slightly on the end of her pen.

“Don’t know. I guess he was the kind of man to start chatting randomly with strangers.” I replied with a flat smile.

As Emilia started scanning the file again thinking of another question I brought back the memory.

Elmerse was looking off inside the mirror waiting for me to give some kind of response.

“Nothing doctor, I was simply taking a double look at myself.”

Elmserse' smile broadened and his hand squeezed on my shoulder, then he released me from his grip. “Well, If I may say so, you look quite alright Mister?” His voice trailed off as he waited for me to answer again.

“Cliff,” I replied. “Ah, a Cliff eh? Say… Weren’t you in the papers some days ago?” His fluffy brows furrowed in amusement as he leaned forward examining me over once again.

“Wouldn’t know.” I shrugged, “I better get going, I assume you have somewhere to be too?”

“Why of course friend.” He said proudly while hiking up his pants by the suspenders. “Got a pretty little lady around the bend just waiting for me. Catch ya next time pal.” He clasped my hand firmly and I complied by giving him a quick shake. Then he spun and went around the corner.

After watching him leave I looked in the mirror to watch my smile fall into a straight line. My eyes seemed to glaze over and my heartbeat slowed.

I blinked a few times trying to make up my mind about what my next steps were going to be, unaware that I was being captivated by the slow swing of the string instrument.

The music from the room broke off at an odd place and I heard cluttering from inside. I stuffed my previous thoughts away to be locked inside the back of my mind for later.

“After your talk with Mr. Elmerse what did you do?” Emilia questioned.

I was silent for a little bit thinking back to the halls. One video camera at the far left corner watching any interaction that would have taken place. To see me walk into any room at any time. Therefore, this time, I had to reply truthfully.

“The music from a room I was by stopped and I went to investigate.” I said, feeling myself take on an air of mischief.

“And who or what did you find?” Emilia pressed.

The dark room surrounded me and I took in the smell of brass and chalk. To the right of the room was an abundance of brass instruments. Frenchorns, trombones, Baritone and a small silver trumpet. Each cleaned and shined. To the left of the room was woodwinds. A saxaphone which held itself on a stand, a clarinet lying parallel with a flute on a dresser and in the corner was a large cello.

“Hello?” I announced stepping in further.

“Hello!” spoke a small voice. Behind the cello sat a thin woman holding a bow. “I have a visitor?”

I chuckled amused. “I couldn’t help but overhear your playing. Your music is aweing to me.”

“Awe, aren’t you such a sweet cookie. Please sit, I don’t normally get visitors.” She cooed.

I adjusted myself and drew up a chair to sit across from her. She set down the large instrument and placed the bow lightly on her thighs. I could now examine the small old lady. She looked ghostly in the corner. Her eyes watching me carefully and her cheeks puffed outward slightly. I was interested to note that she wasn’t smiling.

“What about my music was aweing?” She asked in a childish manner.

“Your music is captivating. It makes me feel… something I don’t normally.” I answered.

She smiled and let out a little snort. “We must be alike. For it too, makes me feel when I normally cannot.”

“Mr. Cliff,” Emilia began, not appreciating my silence, “From the tapes we see you entered a ninety-three year old Carol Carpenter’s room. She was the oldest in her family with five children and thirteen grandchildren. What did you encounter inside?” Emilia huffed slightly and picked up her leg dragging it over the other. Then she crossed one of her arms under her chest, and with the other, she pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I can tell you are upset Emilia.” I said slowly only to have her glare at me through half lidded eyes.

“Just. speak.” She shot.

I smirked hearing her demand and allowed myself to explain the scene. “After entering her room I noticed she was sitting behind a large cello. She asked me to stay and chat since it was rare for her to have people pop by. I did and we had a small conversation. She was perfectly pleasant.”

Emilia blinked a few times and looked down at the file before her. “You say she was sitting behind her cello?”

“Yes kitten.” I said gravely, knowing that I was pushing my limits. Emilia cracked a finger and shlumped her shoulders. “When you left was she still sitting there or had she moved to her woodwind instruments?”

“Well, given that we only talked for about three minutes, she was still in her chair by the time I left.” I wetted my lips and chewed on my tongue lightly.

“What did you talk about?” Emilia asked. Her tone had changed to pure curiosity.

I tilted my head upwards taking in the ceiling once again.

I hummed for a second trying to recall our conversation.

“What’s the world outside like?” Carol asked. Her smile faded into a thin line. The action made me realize that she and I were very much alike.

“It hasn’t changed all that much. Good people, bad people, then those in between.”

The small lady scratched her hand momentarily before asking another question.

“You’re Mr. Cliff. The man from the papers. I have it on my bedside table. I love reading about the stories.”

“Stories?” I asked taking a stand and walking over to the small round table.

“Yes, the ones about death. They say you are their lead suspect in a few crimes. To think I have the one and only Mr. Gregory Cliff in my room.”

My eyes fell on the article. It was cut out and framed. “Seems like I have a fan.” I said picking it up. The title of the article was bolded and in spectral font.

‘Gregory Cliff,questioned and judged on the account for 17 murders. How is he getting away with this and who will be next?’

“Tell me,” Carol started. I set the frame down and turned to stand beside her. “I miss the look of terror... What’s it like again?”

I folded my hands and looked back to Emilia, “Just how the world has changed a little.”

Emilias lips pursed together and then fell into a small pout. “Where did you go after you left her room?”

“Thank you for seeing me, I really do enjoy the company. With the age I’m at who knows what’ll happen in the next few days.” Carol said, sniffling a little.

“What are you talking about, you are still so young.” I winked and left the room leaving her door wide open.

I walked down the hall heading back to my mother's room passing by a hispanic nurse and avoiding Dr. Elmerse.

“I was there for one reason and one reason only Emilia. To get my mother out of there. I was tired, hungry and still had things to do.” I said clicking my tongue.

Emilia began to smile. “Alright, no need to get uptight. We are almost done for today anyways.”

I looked at the tall clock and noticed I had only five minutes left.

“How was the walk out? Your mother is afraid of thunderstorms isn’t she? How did she handle exiting the building?”

A satisfied feeling washed over me instantly as I imagined myself walking through those carpeted halls again. My mother was sitting in a wheelchair with a black duffle bag wrapped around her neck. “Georgie, get me out of here.” she demanded.

I held my tongue as I grasped the handle to the chair. I started forward listening to the wind carry rain which pounded against the walls and roof. The crack of lightning and sound of thunder as it engulfed our very being. Its vibrations shaking the windows and flooding the empty halls.

My mother's nails dug into her bag and I smiled as I watched her.

I passed through crossing hallways, looking down both ways, examining the small hills of the floors and the oddity of the shaking pictures.

Another crack of lightning sounded but my mother refrained from making a sound. To my right as I passed a long hallway I saw Elmerse. He was looking out a large window. Within seconds thunder roared and the lights flickered before turning off completely. I stopped momentarily waiting for my eyes to get used to the darkness. My senses kicked in and I heard a small yelp come from where the Doctor had stood. The lights flashed on but the Doctor was nowhere to be seen.

I continued. I was watching the ceiling as the thin beams of lights shuttered. They clinked and buzzed. I passed by Carpenters room.

While slowly walking by I peered inside. Carol laid on the floor coughing. Her expression etching itself into my brain. Our eyes met and I smiled.

Ah… That’s where I’ve seen it before. That expression.

Her mouth was open as she coughed aimlessly into the floor. Her body shaking in uncontrollable movements. Her eyes wide with horror.

“The walk out wasn’t too odd. My mother was packed and we made our way to the front. I was keen on getting out quickly because I realized the more time I spent there the more money I’d have to pay. We left the building after I gave the front person my final billing information.”

“That's it?” Emilia asked in disbelief.

“That’s it.”

Emilia slapped the file in her hands and closed the manilia pages together.

She hummed before saying, “Unfortunately with the power going out, we lost video feed. Sometime during the storm, Doctor S. Elmerse was scared into fright and tumbled down some stairs into a restricted place. On his fall down, his head was cracked open and he bled out in a few hours. A nurse came across him when she was going down to do laundry. The same night, Carol Carpenter died by falling. Her rib had punctured her lung. She died in a few minutes. Both cases could have survived if attention was given right away, but unfortunately, no one was around. You, Mr. Cliff, were the last noted person they had talked to before their deaths.”

“How tragic.” I said chewing on my lower lip. Over the past few months those two words were the only thing I could give up to Emilia. And she would reply back saying, “How tragic indeed.” She wheeled herself toward the window and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. I took a stand and left the room.

“See you next week, Mr. Cliff.” Emilia called after me.

The walk home was usual. Every day was blending together. I was taking in the overwhelming smell of gas and smoke. Different perfumes and cologne mixing together as one to create a rancid scent. Step by step I followed my path home.

People bumping into me like normal and hearing the uncomfortable grunts. It was rare to hear an apologetic word but once in a while it sprouted up.

A few minutes passed and I walked into my apartment. Ms. Wadsworth was boiling some water on my gas stove.

“Welcome home Mr. Cliff.” She said bowing slightly.

“Thank you, how was everything today?” I asked, setting my things down on the counter.

“It went well. I took some of my extra time today and cleaned your fridge.” She smiled quickly and started packing her things.

“Really? Thank you,” I said walking by the stove and opening the fridge. Inside was a small assortment of things. A jar of pickles, a container of milk, a carton of eggs, two apples and three packets of hot sauce. That was it. Everything else was thrown away and stuffed into a black trash bag.

A thud was suddenly heard from the next room over. along with a muffled noise.

“How long has that been going on?” I asked, turning toward the nurse.

“Hm? Oh, only a little bit. I think that's about the third time. Noisy neighbors” She winked.

I smiled warmly. “It would seem so.” I watched as she put on her brown shoes and neatly stuffed the cash in her pocket.

“Goodbye, Mr. Cliff sir.” She said and rushed from the apartment.

As she left I listened as she bumped into someone in the hall. They exchanged a few words but I let my attention take hold of the pot with water on my stove. I could tell it had been there for about three minutes, meaning it would be at just the right temperature for my black tea. Before I poured in the water I set it on the back burner to grab some milk. I smiled as I fell into the smell of what I was creating in a simple cup.

The television crackled behind me as I poured the hot water. My tea bag was already settled at the bottom and instantly my nose was filled with the scent of bitter citrus and floral, a hint of earthiness and above it all the calming sensation I was suddenly overwhelmed with. I watched as the mixture in my cup became a dark auburn color.

Picking it up and headed to my room but was stopped when I noticed two shadows being casted from underneath my door.

My eyelids drooped but I continued into my room.

“Goodbye Ms. Briggs.” I said aloud.

From behind my door came a shuffling and a short thump as if someone had accidentally brushed their shoulder against my door in passing. There was no response but I was too caught up in my thoughts to be bothered.

Time went by quickly while I graded papers. One by one my students passed by. I looked to my clock taking in the time. Three thirty am.

I sighed, dragging myself from my desk. I walked past my closet and opened my bedroom door giving my mother a quick glance before turning off all the apartment lights. Then I shut my bedroom door, kicked my closet and crawled in bed.

What a long day it had been.

I thought back to Emilia and I’s conversation. To the moments I spoke or left her hanging. I thought back to the music of the cello. What was the tune like again? What about the piece was so captivating?

I then thought about the mirror. I closed my eyes and locked that memory away. I would never be like that again. Not even on the day I die.