The night was cold. Dark. The air was moist and clammy. Johnny walked silently while he listened to his headphones. Noise blasted in his ears. The world around him was silent. He walked a path he knew well. Light post after light post, sign after sign.

He continued walking for hours, not knowing when he would have the courage to go back.

You see, Johnny was not like the others. He was not walking for exercise or leisure.

Johnny was walking away from what He once knew. He was walking away from the mess he made. He grew tired as the night began to fade. The sun peaking above the distant mountains. The brighter it became. The more Johnny knew his time was about to end. They would find him soon. This would be the last of him.

20 minutes after dawn, the police pulled up. They flashed their lights and asked Johnny to stop.

“Johnny? Is that you?” Asked one officer. The other officer was prepared with his hand on his gun.

Johnny had one moment to create his new life path. This was his moment. He knew if he ran, they would catch him. He knew if he fought, they would beat him. He knew if he grabbed his weapon, they would kill him. And he knew he wanted to live.

‘Yes, I’m Johnny’ he replied.

‘Well Johnny, we have a few questions for you. Can you come down to the station with us please?’ Asked one officer.

Johnny was compliant. Got into the cop car with no fight or hesitation. As they drove down the road, the officers were silent. Still covered in blood from the previous night. What they had witnessed was something they had never seen before. It was something they never wanted to see again.

The officers brought Johnny into the station. They sat him down to see what he knew about the night before. Before asking him too many questions, they wanted to make him comfortable. But that later would prove to be a mistake.

Can I get you a drink, Johnny? Coffee? Tea? Water?

Johnny opted for some water. While the officers went to get the water, Johnny continued to listen to his music. Then he began to sing. The noise he produced was not your typical music. It was more like noise and screams. When the officers returned with his water, they asked him what he was listening to. Thinking they were helping set the tone of comfort for the interrogation process.

Johnny smirked and said, do you really want to know? Bring me a radio and I will show you.

They hesitated but knew. The only way to get the truth was to make him feel comfortable. So they brought him a radio. As Johnny plugged in the radio, he left his hand on the metal prong of the plug and placed his other hand in the glass of water.

A loud popping noise consumed the room and the smell of flesh immediately followed. Johnny lay dead on the floor. His headphones fell to his side.

One of the officers retrieved them and put them on. He gasped and shrieked. And backed away with disgust. The sounds were not music at all. The sounds were of Johnny’s family being murdered one by one. Begging and pleading for their lives.

What had he done?

What did Johnny do?