Title: Law
Theme: Law
Pairing: None
Rating: M
36. Law
Walker was the law.
Ten years ago he wasn't. Ten years ago he took a silver coated blade and shined it every night with loving care, then wandered down to the basement to dance it over skin. Young, old, male, female, it really didn't matter. It wasn't the canvas that made the art, after all, but the painter.
He considered himself an artist. He tied his people up tight and he slid the knife up and down until blood leaked slow, down the chest to the feet to the floor to the drain, and if it ran quick enough he got to listen to the drain gurgle. When he got too concerned with the gurgle, with making it louder, he woukd take a break and curse himself, because that was what killers did. He was nothing of the sort.
He held that belief when they dragged him away. When the psychologist tried to set him straight, he nodded and agreed, right up until they bound him to the chair and he had to scream. He fought the lawman, spitting and shrieking and flipping off the people who came to watch him fry, his last words being a "fuck you!" that lacked any charm.
"Should have obeyed the law, Walker!" a man screamed from the other side of the glass.
The words were so loud they followed him into the afterlife.