There is a moment, when you cut the femoral vein, where the body understands before the mind does. A brief widening of the eyes. A stutter of breath. Confusion turning into terror. It's almost intimate. I leaned close enough to hear it. Not the scream. The realization. Then I stepped back.
Timing matters. Blood loss is a patient thing if you let it be. The body weakens in stages. Knees first. Then balance. Then voice.
He tried to crawl.
Interesting.
I adjusted nothing. Interference ruins the story.
The balcony railing had already been cracked for years. I made sure of that detail weeks ago. Not by breaking it—no. Just by confirming it was weak enough to play its role. Everything must feel inevitable. When he finally slumped near the edge, when gravity became the final accomplice, I checked my watch. Precise.
By the time the call would reach dispatch, He would already be inside white walls again. Explaining. Pleading.
And somewhere between their doubt and his desperation—this man would become real.
---
There is a strange clarity that comes after. Cleanup is not panic. Cleanup is ritual. Gloves folded. Surfaces considered. Entry and exit rehearsed twice before leaving. I did not rush. Rushing is for amateurs. By the time uniforms crossed the threshold, I was somewhere else entirely—calm, composed, exactly where I needed to be.
When I arrived at the scene officially, the air still carried that faint metallic scent. No one else notices it properly. They wrinkle their noses. They call it unpleasant. To me, it smells like structure.
I let others step first. Let them speak first. Authority is stronger when it doesn't fight for space. He was already there.
Not the victim...Evan.
In a small, windowless room.
Hands flat against the metal table. Eyes hollow. Breath measured too carefully.
He had described it.
The floor.
The railing.
The time window.
Close enough to disturb them. Not close enough to convict anyone.
I entered without hurry.
Soft footsteps. Neutral expression. A voice trained to sound steady even in chaos.
He looked up when I spoke.
And there it was...Recognition without recognition. The faint flicker of relief when someone finally treats you as if you're not illusion.
I asked gentle questions. Encouraging ones.
He told me everything. Every detail I had planted. Every fear I had watered. Every piece I had allowed him to glimpse. His hands trembled while he spoke. I kept mine still, stopping them from caressing him.
Inside, something uncoiled slowly.
He believed again.
Not in himself. In the pattern. In the inevitability. In me...without knowing he was doing it.
When he faltered, I leaned slightly forward. Concerned. Attentive. Supportive. The performance felt effortless.
Across the hall, radios buzzed. Footsteps echoed. Procedures unfolded exactly as they should. Tape went up. Statements were logged. Timelines were discussed.
And I stood at the center of it all, unseen.
Two rooms.
In one, a body cooling.
In the other, a mind unraveling.
Both exactly where I placed them.
---
Later, when I walked into the apartment officially, I let my gaze move with professional curiosity. The cracked railing. The scuff near the floor. The angle of the body. I crouched. Measured. Photographed. Spoke calmly about trajectory and force. Beside me, a colleague observed, sharp and eager. He trusts easily. He believes in teamwork. He believes in me. I clapped him lightly on the shoulder when he began overthinking.
"Don't chase ghosts," I told him with a smile.
He smiled back. If only he knew.
---
But none of that compared to the look on Evan's face when he realized it had truly happened.
Not imagined...Not coincidence...Real...He had tried to stop it...He had run again...And still it unfolded exactly as he saw. Agony does something fascinating to the human face. It strips pride. Strips logic. Leaves only raw exposure. But this time, you didn't run away afterward. This time, you stayed.
Good.
Because I won't let you disappear again. Not when everything is finally aligned. Not when the story has become perfect.
You wanted them to believe you.
They will.
Just not the way you hoped.
And when the pattern tightens...when coincidence becomes evidence...when fear becomes accusation...I will be right beside you...yes you EVAN.
Steady. Calm. Trusted. Watching.
Always watching. And i'll make sure this time you'll watch me too!