The Devil You Know

      The killer stared up at the beautiful cathedral, thinking about what lay waiting for him inside.  This was the night, the beginning of something he had been dreaming about for so long.  Now those dreams were about to become a reality.  Tonight, he would start the greatest work he had ever done.  Tonight, the world would start to see what justice really was.  The killer just stared at St. Patrick’s cathedral in Norwich, Connecticut; going over the plan in his head.  He had been studying this particular event for weeks now; studying plans and layouts of the cathedral, familiarizing himself with the schedules and routines of every person who lived and worked there, and memorized the placement of everything inside the cathedral itself.  He knew that his focused study and determination had made it so he could do tonight’s work blindfolded.  This is it, he thought to himself.  This is the moment when everything will change.  This moment was filled with such excitement for the killer, such anticipation that he was almost afraid it would get the best of him and that he would make some tiny mistake.  The killer pushed that thought out of his mind.  He knew that he had studied this one event too long and hard to make a mistake now.  There would be no miscalculations; this would be the most shocking event in this state for a long time.

      The killer clung to the shadows of the large, historic house that sat across the street from the cathedral.  His legs were twitching in anticipation, but he hardly noticed.  He pushed his left sleeve up just a little and covered his right hand over his watch while pressing the glow button at the same time.  He read the time, 9:58p.m., still two minutes to go.  In his mind, the killer could see where everyone was on the grounds.  He could see where the nuns were, most of them in bed or on their way.  He could see where the few priests who lived one the premises were, and most importantly of all, he could see where his prey was.  His prey was making his way back into the cathedral for one last moment with God, one last moment of thanks for his deliverance from harm.  The killer could feel his anger and rage boiling up inside of him as he thought about it.  His prey did not deserve the blessings that were given to him, and the killer knew that those blessings were definitely not given to him by God.  They were given to his prey by scared old men who were afraid of the truth.  The killer was not afraid of the truth, instead was driven by it.  He checked his watch again, 9:59p.m., only fifty seconds before his work began.