Even after months had passed since the murder, the streets where the death of Dahlia Nieves had occurred became a hotspot for thrill-seeking teenagers. Thus, the patrons of the bars in this area had increased.
And that includes the already illustrious Circus Cabaret.
"Didn't some old lawyer also die here and get his skin peeled off?" Harker heard one of them whisper to the other.
The other scoffed. "That's probably just a rumor that spread after this happened. Besides, I'm more curious about a hot babe dying than an old geezer."
"It sounds pretty romantic to me. Her beauty, her face, was her greatest asset…. And yet Death must take it from her, as it would take from us all. I'm thinking of making a song in honor of such a beautifully haunting event." Another one added.
Harker couldn't help but sneer in irony. Once you die, strangers who don't know you see your death as just a spectacle. Something to ogle on, something to entertain them. But they see their own death as something much more important, and would expect people to respect them in their passing.
But they won't, because they don't know you. It's only in knowing that most can possess empathy, and even then, some people just straight up never feel it.
You were the only one who can truly know and care about yourself.
It's a shame that many people never try to get to know themselves or care, focused on the lives of someone else.
Harker knew he was not an exception. He was still trying to understand himself more, learn what makes him tick. But it's hard. Because changes happen, and time takes away the person he once was before he gets the chance to fully get to know him.
He becomes a stranger to himself. The memories of his past felt like fiction, just some show that he was watching.
This disconnect can be alarming, indeed. Especially if other forces were also trying to steal your identity from you.
"Where is the scene of the crime exactly, Roland?" Artea asked as they walked on the streets at sundown.
"Just over there. We should move fast before it gets dark. The lights here don't work when they're supposed to….. And the dark can't be trusted."
The streets and the sky were tinted in red and orange hues. The time before the darkness arrives always felt melancholic, as something seemed to be fleeting. And many people found beauty in that bittersweetness….
But in this case, everyone just felt apprehensive because of what they knew might happen in the night.
Was this how the cavemen felt? Hiding quickly as the sun goes down, shivering inside cold caves with only small fires by their side. Knowing so little about themselves and the world out there...
The fear of the unknown had always been one of the eldest to exist. What one may find, what danger awaits, and what hides in plain sight.
Harker looked at the dumpsters. It was just like any regular one, full of smelly things. He tried to imagine what it must be like for Felix Garcia to be laying there, knife in hand, not knowing what happened at all. Poor kid must have been so scared.
The evidence had long been found by the policemen by now. He knew they wouldn't find any blood stains or anything like that.
But they weren't looking for markings of the past. They're looking for what else must be staying there, and unknown presence. Harker walked at the end of the alleyway, which he remembered was described by Roland when he gave him details about the crime.
"What's on the other side of this wall?" He asked.
It was about 15 feet tall, pure brick. He can see his own shadow plastered on it while the falling sun shone behind his back.
Roland crossed his arms from the sudden chill he got from the autumn breeze.
"Nothing but the streets. They just put up this wall to cover the abandoned dumpsters on this side. The other side was filled with pleasant cafes and condos, after all. These two buildings are absolutely empty, and only passers-by use these rusty garbage cans to throw their stuff around, like empty beer bottles and cans."
Harker frowned. "Why were these buildings still abandoned?"
Artea moved to observe the wall with them, narrowly avoiding a used condom on the ground. "Apparently, this area was supposed to be part of a gentrification campaign back in 1984. That's why the buildings on the other side were fancier, along with the bars nearby. But for some reason, they discontinued, and some legal disputes made it so that nobody else bought or renovated the area."
Harker rubbed his chin. "Who lived here before it was gentrified?"
Artea shrugged. "Most likely illegal immigrants and other working class. From what I've heard, there was a big rally that happened which caused several fatalities and casualties when the police intervened. One old man died from having his head beaten by a baton stick, a child got shot from a supposed 'warning shot'.... Those kinds of things."
She clenched her fist. "It's understandable that the economy needed to rise from the money of the upper and middle class, but…. Is it necessary to spill blood? To use brutality just to maintain authority?"
Harker was quite surprised to hear that from her, since she herself was from an upper class group and part of that 'authority'. Sure, she may start at school, but in the future, she may very well become the same things that she criticized.
Politics was a very complicated thing after all.
And even if you were one of the 'good' ones, Harke would never understand why you would be naive enough to believe you can make a change and lose your dignity in the process. People will find you as a scapegoat to blame no matter what. You'd get shunned more than you get praised.
Suddenly, Roland pointed at the top of the wall.
"There's something over there. It looks like glass….." He tried to reach out.
Harker kneeled down, offering his thigh for him. "Here."
Roland stepped on his thigh and finally got the glass like object. It looked like a light bar. Almost the same as the one you'd find from the police.
"Huh." Roland frowned as he got down. "How did this get here? Peter mentioned the lights were blue that night, could it be that this was it?"
Harker examined it too. "But why would the police leave their light here?"
Suddenly, a car arrived with its windows rolled down. A grumpy-looking old white man in his 60s was driving, his scowl adding up to his already wrinkly face. He had a very tall nose, and a gray mustache.
"What are you kids doing out there!? This place is too dangerous!"
Then, he saw the lights in Roland's hand and got furious.
"Hey, you're stealing a property of the law! Put it back! Put it back right this second!"
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