Page 96 of Pride
he did so with pride.
From the depths of hell...
He made his life a story worthy to tell.”
I jumped as the flatline sound he’d been wheeled in with blared loudly across the warehouse. The two men in the shadows stepped forward, as S.K.A.M. slumped backwards. Then they zipped the body bag up and slowly pushed the gurney back through the crowd as everyone stood to the side and watched in stunned silence as he was slowly carried away.
The screen went black as the recording came to an end, but my heart still beat wildly out of my chest and nausea swirled inside me, making me feel sick to my stomach. I felt dizzy as I panted, panic setting in. I thought that was the worst of it, but as I minimised the video on the screen, I saw another window was open, hiding behind it. A window that filled me with repulsion.
I guessed it was a preliminary police report because the images were explicit, and the write-up of events included more details than a newspaper report would give.
The photos showed a single horse from a fairground carousel that’d been fixed to the floor of a warehouse. The naked body of the male victim was on the horse, but brutally impaled on the pole that was used to hold on during the ride. The pole ran through his whole body, protruding out of his neck, his head snapped back at an unnatural angle that was sickening to see. It was clear his neck was broken, and blood soaked the victim’s body from the vicious wounds that’d been inflicted from multiple cuts and stabs.
On the floor, there were streamers and balloons scattered amongst the pools of blood, along with a sash embroidered with the words ‘Finish Line’. Pinned to the horse’s bridle was a goldenrosette with the number one on it. Also, the victim’s hands appeared to be glued to either side of a trophy. And on the wall, behind the macabre scene, were the words ‘Nice Guys Finish Last’ spray-painted in red paint.
The attacker clearly thought this guy wasn’t nice, the staging of his murder scene showing him as the winner highlighted that. And I knew exactly who that murderer was.
With a heavy heart and an unsteady mind, reeling from the fact that he was still out there, still active, still able to come and find me, I tapped onto the last image. The written report:
In the earlyhours of Friday morning, the body of forty-two-year-old Alonso Silver was found in an abandoned warehouse not far from his home in Milan. The initial cause of death has been recorded as strangulation.
Following strangulation, the attacker then proceeded to break the victim’s neck and impale him on a metal pole. The pole was initially impaled through the victim’s anus and exited via his neck.
There were additional injuries sustained during this attack, including forty-two knife wounds, a number which officers believe could be significant and possibly linked to the victim’s age, along with extensive burns to the victim’s hands, where a metal object was welded to his skin. Deep knife wounds were also found on the rear of each ankle, where the victim’s Achilles heel had been severed on both the left and right foot. It is unclear at this time whether this damage was caused prior to or following his death.
Officers are appealing for any witnesses to come forward who may be able to help with their inquiries.
Mr Silver had recently been cleared of all charges of historical child abuse, following an investigation into therecent Piper-Hall Children’s Home scandal. Mr Silver, who has worked as a social worker for over twenty years, always vehemently denied any involvement in the case and was acquitted on the grounds of insufficient evidence.
I stopped reading.I didn’t want to know any more about the case. But it was clear that S.K.A.M. had been busy at work in Italy, doing more than just an art performance, and knowing that made me sick to my stomach.
My heart was still pounding as I stared at the screen, and then I heard footsteps outside the office, and the door swung open.
Alex stood in the doorway, smiling, but when he saw my face, his smile was replaced with knitted brows of concern, and he asked, “Emma, are you okay?”
I stood up from behind the desk, pinning him with an accusatory glare as I panted furiously. I was close to a panic attack. My head was swimming, and my body tingled as I tried to control my breathing. Spots danced in front of my eyes as dizziness took a hold of me.
“You lied to me,” I gasped with quiet fury.
He frowned harder, but concern marred his handsome face as he took a step into the room and closed the door behind him.
“What do you mean, lied to you? I haven’t lied.”
I nodded to the screen and leaned forward, placing my hands on the desk to try and steady myself. “You told me he was locked away. That he was in a secure unit and wouldn’t be out for a very long time... if ever. And yet, there he is, performing in Italy, and doing... other things.” I couldn’t hold myself back any longer. “He’s out! HE’S FUCKING OUT THERE! HE’S FREE AND HE’LL FIND ME! HE’LL KILL ME, TOO,” I shouted, shaking as I held onto the desk for dear life.
Alex covered his face with his hands, dragging them down in exasperation as he let out a deep breath. “It isn’t like that. Please, Emma. It’s not what you think.”
I hung my head, swaying slightly as I shut my eyes tightly. “Then what is it like? Because from where I’m standing, he’s been free to do what he wants, and you’ve been getting updates about it.” I sounded calm, but I didn’t feel it.
“I’ve kept tabs on him, yes...”
I huffed and shook my head, anger surging through me as my fingers clawed the wooden desk.
How could he lie to me like this after everything we’d been through?
“But at no point,” he went on, his voice sounding more desperate. “Was he ever a threat to you. He was in a secure unit, like I told you. Then he was granted permission to fulfil an engagement in Italy that’d been booked in advance and would cost other people a lot of money if he’d pulled out.”
“Where is he?” I asked, feeling frantic. “Where is he now? Right this second?” I still wasn’t convinced by anything Alex was saying.
