A BEGINNERS GUIDE TO FAKING YOUR DEATH ; Read Desc

Needed a Change of Pace.

Quick TW:
At the end of the chapter I describe a murder.

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My name's Lev Malinovski, I used to be a military man, but I no longer work for the freedom of the people - instead I work for the fear of the people, or at least I did before I packed up and left.

I've spent the past few days in an unfamiliar place, I'm escaping from who I was - or who I still am to most people. I killed for the government to earn my place in their ranks but as skilled as I am with a sniper, it gets tiring. The government killed my lover and son, in return I left.

I just get out of bed, peaking through the curtains before closing them once again so I can get the peace I've surprisingly craved for a while now. This woman has been keeping a close eye on me, I think she lives in the apartment above but she seems to have a problem with me. I overheard one of my neighbors speaking with her, her name is something Ichinose.. she's a police detective. Maybe she knows, although I doubt it - I left everything back in Russia, everything but the memories of my time there.

I know I've hurt people and they wont forgive me, but that's good. I don't want forgiveness, instead I want them to believe I was killed - wiping my record clean. My lover accepted that I wasn't the perfect man she fell in love with, somehow.

Enough rambling, I need to get on with my day. I just sigh, grabbing a packet of cigarettes and my lighter - lighting one and gently holding it between my teeth as I grab myself some bread, just taking a deep breath as I place it in the toaster - exhaling as I start to wait. There's a knock at the door but I choose to ignore it, nobody knows I'm home - nobody even knows my name. Actually, majority of people believe I'm dead, it was on the news last night, so why is there someone knocking on my door? Persistent knocking actually..

I just walk over, peeking through the keyhole before just sighing and opening my door despite the fact I look like an actual mess right now - just barely dressed and the faint smell of cigarettes as I put out the one I just lit a few seconds ago, I have to try and make a good impression after all.

"Hello..?"

"You must be the new person in the building, this apartment has been empty for ages."

This woman smiles at me, I notice a small box in her hands as she just slowly pushes it into mine. Its slightly warm, maybe its some cookies or something, I don't know.

"Oh, uhm, thank you."

"No problem Mr..?"

"Malinovski-"

"Mr. Malinovski, it's nice to meet you. I live in one of the apartments upstairs and just thought I'd say hi."

Ah so this is her, Detective Ichinose. At least I can put a face and voice to the name now, no wonder people here trust her - she seems nice. I just nod a little, my head still a little foggy considering I haven't had my morning coffee.

"I'll leave you be now, feel free to ask me if you need anything."

And with that she leaves me stood by my door, with a box of what I can assume is freshly baked cookies based off the temperature and smell. Thats nice of her, I guess. I just close the door, locking it again before making my way into the kitchen and placing the small box on the side as I start to pour myself a cup of coffee.

Detective Ichinose seems like a good person, a potential threat though since she's a detective. I doubt she'll find out, my job was classified, never on any records. The only thing on any records is my military service, any files about my position within the Russian government would've been burned.

A few hours later

I decide to try the cookies that Ichinose made, as I take one I notice a folded up note at the bottom of the box - taking it out and placing it on the side before closing the box of cookies.

'I know everything.
- 12.'

My heart drops, next thing you know I feel like I'm back there. Stood in my old apartments bedroom doorway after a long day of work. Blood dripping down the walls, it's not just blood by itself... It's not even the sight of the blood that makes me sick, it's the person whose blood it is.

My lover, the only person who I'd ever commited myself too laying there, half her face missing. All I could do was just hold her, blood coating my hands as I stared in disbelief - how.. how could someone do this.

I remember calling someone and then leaving the apartment, I left the call as an anonymous tip to the police. Zenovias apartment was just a few doors down and I had a key so I just let myself in. I showered for over an hour, scrubbing myself clean - my arms almost bleeding because I couldn't help but feel filthy.

It's that feeling again, even if the circumstances are not the same I can still feel the blood plastered to my skin - it's gross, I feel filthy. I can't even move, it's horrific.

I thought moving away would mean my problems wouldn't be problems anymore. clearly not.