Killer in the Rain-Chapter One- Trigger Events

Almost thirty years later and the older brother had broken his promise.  Andrew decided he was going for a walk in the rain.  He went to the door and put on his beige overcoat.

****
Andrew was walking down a six road to the high street.  His hands were in the deep pockets of his overcoat.  They were covered in brand new leather gloves.  In the middle of the road he just about saw a young woman, fresh out of university.  It looked like she was a volunteer for a charity.  He hated people like this; always so enthusiastic and full of life, people who had never known any hardship.

"'Scuse meh, sir?"

Andrew did not break his pace he also tried to ignore the horribly common voice the woman had.

"Sir, can I talk to ya?"

Andrew sighed and turned around.  "This had better be good." Andrew could see a bleached fringe under the hood and pretty blue eyes.  Her skin was covered in foundation and her eyelashes were weighed down with a ridiculous amount of mascara.

"Wouldja like ta adopt a Panda?"

Andrew started to turn around, answering her question.

The girl had to keep trying.  "Sir, everyday a piece of the Chinese rainforest-"

"I don't care." Andrew interrupted.

"Sir, Pandas are becoming extinct." Andrew wished she would stop talking and before he knew what was happening, his hands were around her throat, pushing her to the ground.

****

He watched the light fade out of her eyes.  He watched her soul descend into the dark abyss of hell.  Black spots were tarting to cloud her vision.  She tried to scream, but she had no breath left in her lungs.  She tried to force his hands away, but his grip was too strong.  She tried to kick out and catch him in the groin, but she had no energy in her legs.

<em>I'm only twenty three.  I'm too young to die.  Please don't kill me.  I'm too young to die</em>.  She pleaded in her mind.  Andrew did not share her thoughts.  He leant right in, so their noses were almost touching.  "Nobody is too young to die.  My life is going to hell.  When I arrive at least I'll have company." He watched her body go limp.  There were markings around her neck and many contusions had formed in her eyes.  He had killed her.

****

He had to dispose of the body and his gloves.  Burning seemed like the obvious option.  Luckily it was still raining and there were few people around.  He knew of an abandoned car park, which had been overcome by nature.  Through the cracks in the walls and ceilings, vines and plants grew.  Around the car park, there were trees the height of skyscrapers.  On the bottom level laid a deserted car, which had a quarter full tank of petrol left.  Autumn had just begun and the tree had started shedding their leaves, so there was enough foliage around to make a decent pyre.  He emptied the whole tank of petrol on the woman and his gloves.  He took a box of matches from his pocket and lit one. After a few seconds the whole pyre was alight.  Satisfied with what he had done, he turned around and walked casually away.

****

When Andrew got home, he was not surprised to see that social services had already taken his children.  The way things were going he guessed his house would be repossessed next. He had to sell it.  A fresh start.  That was what he needed.

****

One week had passed since the first murder.  Andrew was riding the train to central London, for a job interview.  In the seat next to him, he saw the young woman he had killed.  <em>This is impossible.  It has to be a ghost, but there she is as clear as day.  </em>He thought.  "What are you doing here? Go away.  Leave me alone." Andrew demanded.

"I'm only here, because some part of you brings me here." The young woman answered.

"Shut up.  I don't know you.  Leave me alone." An drew was starting to draw attention to himself, but he did not care.

"It's your conscience.  Give yourself up. You won't feel so guilty then."

"I didn't do anything wrong.  Leave me alone." Andrew almost shouted.

"I'm never gonna leave ya, Andrew.  You murdered meh.  That's gonna with you forever." Andrew stepped off the train and into the sprawling metropolis which was the city of London.

"Leave me alone.  It was your fault.  You kept annoying me." Andrew spoke over his right shoulder.

"That was my job.  I had to be persistent."

"I don't care, just LEAVE! ME! ALONE!"

"Are you alright, mate?" Asked a stranger who had genuine concern.

"Yes I am, not that it's any of your business." Andrew answered.

"Sorry, just wondering."

"Next time, if you're wondering something keep it in your head." Andrew shook his own head and turned away.  The young woman stood in front of him.  He stepped to the right to avoid her and kept walking.

"That man was trying to help you and you were so rude to him."

"Does it look like I care who I'm rude to? That man should have minded his own business and left me alone." Andrew was now attracting a large crowd of onlookers, wondering whether they should intervene or not.

"You're not real.  You're just my imagination, so leave me alone." Andrew pleaded.  He was close to breaking point,

"You killed meh.  I'm not gonna leave ya." The young woman said.  Andrew smiled malevolently.  He then turned around and followed the stranger, who had just talked to him.

****

Andrew had it figured out.  He was going to kill the stranger.  That would stop him from thinking of his first victim.  He followed his target into an auto junk yard.  Andrew started to feel a light patter of rain, but he ignored it; he stooped and picked up a piece of metal.  he sneaked up behind his target and swung the metal between the man's legs.  Th stranger crumpled.  Andrew pounded on him and made for his throat.  His target was quicker.  The stranger lashed out with his legs, slamming his foot into Andrew's crotch and then made a run for it.  Andrew was not finished that easily.  He used the metal to smash a car and he threw it at his target.  He then picked up the largest shard of glass he could find and threw it at his target.  The glass buried itself between the man's shoulders.  The stranger went down and stayed down.  Andrew did not have time to float.  He heard alarms going off and vicious barking.  He kept hold of the metal and ran for the gate.  A Rottweiler with its glistening teeth bared charged at him.  Andrew swung the metal and it smashed into the dog's head, making it crash straight into the ground.  A second dog charged at him and latched onto his leg.  Andrew let out an inhuman cry and turned the piece of metal vertically and then he sent it slamming home onto the dog's head.  Andrew turned around and ran through the gates.  He noticed a wheelie bin and threw the metal into it along with his gloves.  He gently lowered the lid and turned around.  murdered.

"You thought killing me, would stop you thinking of her," his second target pointed to the young woman, "you are a naive young man."

"Just piss off.  Go away; I've got to go to a job interview."

The young woman stepped in Andrew's way.  "Good luck gettin' it.  All you'll be thinkin' 'bout is us.  When you think of us,think of how we looked when we died."

****
The interviewer was looking intently at Andrew.  Andrew could have been described as a scrawny weasel, dwarfed in a massive overcoat.  He had wavy brown hair and eye shrouded in dark seriousness, like they had seen too much hardship.  Andrew had frown up in a bad estate and worked hard to get out of it.  His old neighbourhood was rough and Andrew had to learn to defend himself quickly to survive.  if he had never learnt how to fight then, he would be able to kill now.

"What makes you think you're right for this job?"

"I am very hard working, very cooperative and also quite efficient."

"Andrew could also be described as abusive and likely to kill people." The young woman whispered over his right shoulder.

"What was your reason for leaving your last job?"

"I was let go by my previous employers, but-"

"Why were you let go?" The interviewer cut Andrew off.

"I was having trouble at home, but I've sorted everything out now."

"At the expense of two innocent lies." Andrew's second target whispered over his left shoulder.

"Nobody is innocent. " Andrew murmured.  The interviewer frowned, but chose to ignore this.  Maybe the mutterings were just nerves.

"I certainly hope you <em>have</em> sorted everything out.  I would not want somebody of your record working in a respectable establishment like this.  This report says that you were abusive, rude and inefficient, in the last few weeks of your job."

"How did you get that report? That should be confidential."

"I assure you Andrew that, this file is most public and the means of how I acquired it is not your concern.  I think I have seen enough.  We will give you call, if anything comes up."

****

Two minutes later Andrew was on the street.  He turned to the ghosts of his victims.

"You ruined that for me."

"Poor naive Andrew, we're just your imagination.  You were the one who ruined that.  To be honest, we didn't actually do much.  It was all your fault." His second target said.

"Andrew, I think you should check the car park where you burnt my body.  I think you should check Jessica's body."

"Who?"

"That was the name of the woman you strangled.  You should check my body.  it's been a  week since you've killed me.  maybe somebody has discovered my body."

****

Andrew returned to the car park.  the bottom level was always the darkest, but it had never bothered him.  From the inside Andrew head the rain thundering down.  He took a torch out of his pocket and lit it.  Any cracks in the ceiling were filled with plants, which absorbed the majority of the rainfall, so Andrew had little fear of the fire being extinguished.  He shone the light on where the body of Jessica should have been.  Instead there was a pile of ash.

"Well done, Jessica congratulated him, "you have successfully ended what chance I could've had at a victorious life and you have thoroughly disposed of the evidence."

"Oh, shut it.  You wouldn't have done anything famous.  I saw you.  You were more concerned with your looks then you were with your brains."

"I could've done somethin', if I had the chance, but now we'll never know."

*Author's Notes*

This was the original beginning of the story.  Let me know if you prefer this over the prologue.

Killer in the Rain- Prologue

Rain.  Torrential, relentless rain.  The perfect cover for a murder.  Andrew Stone's life was going to hell.  He had just been fired.  His wife had recently disappeared off to America and, only, one week ago he had received a letter from social services stating that he was going to lose custody of his two children.  Apparently he was unfit to take care of them.  All of these events compiled the magazine of a gun.  Every bullet contained a different memory.  A trigger was pulled.  Blasted five holes into the darkness.

****

Running out of breath.  Panting in the darkness.  Endless noise.  The first sound the infant ever heard.  Electric lights were burning onto the baby's fragile skin. He had no idea what was going on.  Chaos surrounded him.  He had been ripped away from his sanctuary.  Pushed out of his warm, cosy haven.  Forced into the cruelty and harshness of the outside world.  Why? Was he not wanted any more? Was he going to be abandoned? The small child was too young to understand.  He just wanted to be in his mummy's arms.  A nurse took the crying baby, cleaned him up, and laid him down in a nearby incubator.  The infant was still crying his eyes out.  A train of snot chugged out of his tiny nose.  The walls of the small heated box on wheels did not block out the terrible noise of his mother wailing or the rain crashing down, outside.  "Nurse, take the child to the incubation care room." The nurse nodded and wheeled the infant out of the room and down the corridor.  Slowly moving away from the horrible sound of his mother's screams.  

****

"You're doing great Mrs Stone, but I'm afraid it isn't over yet.  You're going to have to start pushing again." Doctor Stokes blurted out.

"I can't do it." Mrs Stone moaned.

"Come on honey, you can do it.  Push, Holly.  I know you can do it," John Stone took his wife's hand and squeezed it, "I'm here for you, darling.  You can do it."

Holly Stone smiled, before gritting her teeth, as the baby prepared to breech her walls.  "Ok Mrs Stone.  This is where you have to start pushing." The baby's mother started breathing erratically.  In...in...out...in..out...out ...in.

"Remember to breathe Mrs Stone, you're almost there." A waterfall of sweat was pouring of Holly's forehead.  Doctor Stokes' facial expression turned from one of happiness to one of worry.  "Something's wrong." He muttered.

"What is it?"

"Never mind.  Keep pushing, Mrs Stone.  You're almost there." Doctor Stokes knew he could not worry the young mother.  Not at this stage of the delivery.  Holly roared in frustration, as she struggled to force the child out of her.  "Well done, Mrs Stone.  You did it.  Oh no! Something's gone wrong.  Run some scans, Nurse."

"What's happening?" John asked.

"We're not sure why, but your baby isn't breathing.  We're running some tests now.  He's going to be fine."

Holly began to quietly weep.  Her husband walked over to her.  "Don't worry, sweetheart.  Our son is going to be ok," John turned to the doctor, "is it too soon, to see our other son?"

"I'm afraid so.  Don't worry, you can see him soon.  I'm afraid; I'm going to have to leave you now."

****

Thirty anxious minutes later, Doctor Stokes returned.  "I'm so sorry.  I'm afraid your second son was stillborn.  There was nothing we could have done.  You have the hospital's condolences."

Holly broke down in an ocean of tears.  Her blonde hair quivered, as her whole body shook and shuddered, as every single drop of water cascaded from her sapphire coloured eyes.

"Are you sure, Doctor Stokes? Maybe there's a chance." John begged.  His brown eyes were screaming with emotion.

"There isn't.  It's too late."

"Doctor, you have to be able to do something." Holly pleaded.

"There isn't anything I can do.  I am very sorry for your loss."

John reluctantly nodded.  "Thank you for your help.  Can we see our other son now?"

"Of course you can.  I'll have him brought to you."

A few minutes later, the boy was wheeled back into the room.  Doctor Stokes picked up the infant and carefully handed him to his mother.  Holly smiled and grabbed him tightly.  John rested a hand on the child's forehead.

"Is it too early for a name yet?" The doctor asked.

"No it isn't.  We want to call him Andrew.  Andrew Stone."

****

An empty click.  John clicked his tongue.  It sounded like the hammer of a pistol hitting an unloaded barrel.  Holly was having contractions.  She would be fine, as long as she arrived at the hospital soon.  Traffic was murder.   John groaned, as he heard a blaring siren behind him.  An ambulance slowly crept through the mess of cars, as the sea of vehicles parted.  Holly sighed; she wished she was travelling in the speeding medical van, as it ran a red light.  She whimpered, as another wave of pain rippled throughout her slim figure.  Her husband began to angrily mutter under his breath, as he straightened the car up.  "Never this difficult last time.. we should be fine... why are we stuck here? Just calm down John...calm down...calm down." Neither adult paid any attention to the six year old, staring out the window in the back of the car.  Andrew Stone was used to being ignored by his parents.  They had almost left him at home, when Holly's water had broken  In their confused panic, they had forgotten about him.  Holly turned to her husband.  "Don't worry, John.  I promise, we will not lose another child."

Andrew instantly knew why his mother had said his.  The answer was simple.  His dead twin brother.  Andrew's parents blamed him for the incident, even though were was no way, it could have been his fault.  Holly and John had never abused him, but he was definitely neglected.  At a very early age, he was expected to take care of himself.  His parents were always working, which meant he barely saw them.  During holidays his mum and dad would unload him onto his grandmother, while they went travelling around the world.  It was almost, as if he were an inconvenient burden that weighed them down.  Andrew sometimes wondered if his parents wished that he was the one who had died and his brother survived.  It was certainly a cruel thought, but a possible one.  Maybe his brother would have been treated better.

****

The blaring horn of the car screamed into life and shattered Andrew's thoughts.  John was growing more and more impatient.  He put his foot down and started weaving in and out of traffic  He would pay the penalties later.  With a vicious snarl, John swerved his car into a parking spot.  He rushed Holly out and started walking towards the hospital entrance.  "Stay in the car, Andrew." John said, without turning around.  He knew this son would want to follow them.  "But I want to help.  I can keep mummy company."

John sighed and turned around.  "First of all Andrew, don't call your mother "mummy," you're too old for that.  Secondly, how are you going to help? Do you know anything about labour or pregnancy? Get in the car.  Now!"

"But, I want to-"

"Shut up Andrew.  Listen to your father.  Stay.  In.  The.  Car!"

The six year old sighed and reluctantly returned to the vehicle.  John smiled and locked the doors.  "Now that's a good boy."

****

The raindrops were slowly trickling down the car window.  During the time it took for Holly to be transferred to the delivery room, at least ten people walked past John's car, but nobody paid attention to the six year old, huddled in the corner.  Andrew Stone had been abandoned.  Deserted.  Neglected.  Ignored.  Alone.

****

Holly was close to going into labour.  She clutched her husband's hand and looked up at him. "Do you think you could check on Andrew?"

"We don't need to.  He's a big boy.  He'll be fine."

"He's only six.  He doesn't know how long we're going to be.  Hell, <em>we</em> don't even know how long this is going to take.  Check on him.  Bring him a warm snack or something.  It's colder than hell out there."

John sighed and turned around.  Reluctantly, he walked away from from his unborn child, to look after the son that survived.

****

Andrew looked up as the wiry figure of his father slowly came into view.  He was walking quickly to avoid the worst of the rain.  John opened the door and climbed into the driver's seat.  "I just came to see if you're alright."

"I'm ok.  How's mum?"

"She'll be fine.  I'd best be getting back to her."

"I'm sorry, for what I said before."

"You should be.  Take this."

The child held out a hand and gratefully accepted the toasted cheese and ham sandwich.  After Andrew stopped eating, the father and son remained in an awkward silence.  Both of them knew they should be talking, but neither one had anything to say to each other.  "I'd best be getting back to your mother."

"Can I come with you?"

"We've been through this.  It's going to be too cramped in the delivery room, with you there.  Stay in the car."

"Ok.  Was it my fault?

"What are you talking about?"

"Is it my fault that my brother died?"

John hesitated, but left the car and walked away in silence.

****

A stab in the darkness.  Andrew opened his eyes.  He realised it was his grandmother's prodding finger, that had woken him up.  Complications had arisen in Holly's delivery.  Although it was nothing serious, the labour was going to be delayed. This meant that John had to drive Andrew to Holly's mother's house.  Whilst waiting for his parents to come home, the six year old had fallen into a deep sleep.  Now his mum and dad had returned for him.  As if it were Christmas morning, Andrew ran down the stairs.  The three adults were in the living room, crowding around the baby.  After waiting patiently the six year old forced his way through the wall of adults.  Holly looked down at him.

"Andrew, meet your brother.  Samuel."

"Can I hold him?" The child asked.

"Don't be silly.  You'll drop the baby on his head.  He'll turn out like you." Holly's mother snapped.

"Don't be so harsh, Teresa.  Go on, Andrew.  Hold him." John encouraged.

"Why are you defending him?"

"Because, he's our son." Holly retorted.

"He's not the son you wanted." Teresa muttered.

"Mum! Why would you say something like that?"

Andrew looked up at the three adults and forced back tears.  He was not going to give them the satisfaction.

"Look, now he's crying." Teresa grumbled.

"Of course he's crying.  He's six years old and you've insulted him."

"You want to toughen him up. Otherwise, he'll be weak, when he's older."

"Stop saying these horrible things."

Andrew knew all of this yelling would wake the baby.  Quietly he carried Samuel up the stairs and into his bedroom.  "Don't worry, Sam.  I'll look after you.  If our parents neglect you, I'll be there.  I'll never leave you.  I promise."

****

Something crashed out of the box.  Something sharp.  A shard.  Sam picked up the toy, out of his cereal bowl, and gave it to his fourteen year old brother.  Even though Andrew was too old for toys, he still appreciated the gesture.  The older boy had thick wavy hair and a sharp nose, which protruded off of his face.  His eyes were dark and almost emotionless.  Samuel was eight years old and growing quickly.  Just like his brother, Sam was tall and skinny.  His brown eyes always sparkled with happiness.  Even though Andrew looked after his brother, there was never any need for it.  Teresa doted on the boy.  On Sam's birthdays or at Christmas, his grandmother gave him an obscene amount of money or bought him the latest gadgets, while feigning ignorance, when it came to Andrew.  Samuel recognised how unreasonable this was and always gave his older brother, a share of his presents.  Whether they were money or material possessions.  Holly and John were at work and the two boys had to go to school soon.  Andrew's problems with his parents, made him extremely antisocial and quite hostile.  As a result he was largely ignored at school.  Surprisingly, nobody ever picked on him.  He had proved on multiple occasions that he could defend himself.  The same could not be said for his brother, who was rarely bullied either.  However, when he was, he could not stick up for himself.  He just swallowed the insults.  The age difference between the two brothers meant they attended different schools. However this did not stop Andrew from protecting his little brother.

**** Author's Notes****

This is the prologue of my second and my best novella: Killer in the Rain.  Again this was something I wrote when I was 14/15 and it's about as dark as my writing ever gets.  This prologue was something I wrote retrospectively to help explain my protagonist's motivations.  As you go through the story, let me know whether you think the prologue works here or could be interspersed throughout the novella.