#empricist

𝐋𝐀𝐖 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒  |  𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄:   ❛ i am haunted by these victims , they never really leave my mind . ❜  @empricist​

𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐔𝐓.   as holden leaves his office at night,  she is still at her desk and when he comes in the next morning,  she’s there with yesterday’s makeup around her eyes.  he’s joked before  ---  did you ever go home  ?  and in it,  hears the echo of all the times the question has been pointed at him.  how many nights did he spend alone in his office agonizing over cases  ?  how many times did he feel guilty for shutting his eyes to sleep  ---  praying he’d be able to solve the case in his sleep  ?  he doesn’t need camille to say it for him to know what’s going through her head.  

Algernon is not aware of the age of mankind,  but the enormity of our experience on Earth is something instinctively understood by him.   We couldn’t live and die in this dirt for so many centuries without saturating it with our blood,   our liquidized tissue that feeds the vines that embrace our tombs for generations to come;   buried?  The bodies of a million people he will never know the names to - some were without one - were all around them now,  fused with the green the wind flutters above,  filling the bellies of other beasts,  and filtering through their own lungs as they have this conversation.   

Death seeps into everything,  lays down a layer of its decay as a base for the steps of new life to imprint upon,   whoever thinks themself distant from the dead has closed their mind to the constant shedding of the world.

Algernon’s inert gaze embeds itself into Camille’s.  His attention is almost urgent,  like any moment he intends to confess something of unimaginable significance and yet loses the impulse too quick,  every time.

“The dead are buried in us.”

Does it scare her?   (Little Camille,   angels carved her from the softest pillowy marble found in heaven,   to look upon her if you be unworthy would be to shred your own soul on the ethereal and delicate features smiled upon by God.)   Or,  Algernon muses on,  does the promise of trapped bones beneath serve as a comfort to the girl who dreads to be left alone,  truly alone?

Another night-out put off because of some telephone call from some man - actually, Georgie doesn’t know that it was any particular person,  but she assumes it was a man,  it seems the kind of thing a man would be responsible for - and now Camille is going to disappear like the good girl she is,  on the scent of some clue she wouldn’t think of sharing with George.  More excited to work  (never an obligation but a privilege)  than she could ever even pretend to be about something that doesn’t involve the macabre.

“Mad?   Who, me?”   Nails on a chalkboard;  she’s livid!

They hadn’t exactly promised that they’d go out tonight,  nothing was ever set in stone with Camille  (or herself,  though she doesn’t stop to consider her own flighty tendencies - with far less solid reasons)  but it had almost looked, for just a split second there, like it would really happen.  They’d go have fun and flirt with strangers,  and drink just a bit too much,  and forget about all the people counting on them for this or that;  but Camille has forgotten how to forget and there are painful motivations for her to fight deterioration.

               everything stood still between the two of them .      she ,   standing there like an imposing figure of authority hellbent to know knowing the truth .   he’s known determination like that ,   though at the time he was not seeking any sort of truth .   just looking for the perfect head to put his next bullet in .   and he ,   sitting opposite her   --   a cuffed ,   rugged ,   and aging silent man .   it was a game of hunter and the hunted .    he already bared what he could bare ,   spare his previous life before he’s a new man .   do they deserve to know they have caught a wild old beast ?   ready to claw his way out and leave carnage in his wake ?   unnecessary .   they are good people who are doing their jobs ,   and he’s retired .

@empricist​   said   “   it’s not worth the effort to lie .   ”

              duncan scoffs in slight disbelief .   “   so ,   you think i lie ?   ”   there was no coldness or threat in his voice ,   though .   he simply let her words sink in .   when he looked up at her again ,   his eyes met her steely gaze as he leaned forward on the table .   he let the light of the interrogation room shine over his face   --   harsh and chiseled on some parts ,   tired and weathered on the others .   “   then i apologize if you don’t believe me .   or if i can’t be of any more help .   but i have given you everything that i know .   ”