Unnecessary Evil

Before.

William

Open spaces made him nervous.

No matter how often he peered over his shoulders, no matter how many extra

officers were provided for their safety, William MacLeod never truly felt at ease. Paranoia gnawed at his bones and made his skin tingle.

In hindsight, it wasn't even that. Paranoia is often caused by mental disorders or drug use; the monsters lurking in the shadow a figment of one's imagination.

Not for William MacLeod. The eyes following every single one of his steps were real.

Monsters came with his line of work. He expected his enemies, anticipated their moves, ready to pounce at any given moment. Lately, as the streets of Chicago were painted in blood, he had found it difficult to discover the monsters hiding in plain sight. The war had been raging on for years, leaving death and destruction in its wake.

A chilly wind blew autumn leaves over the street as he stepped onto his front porch, pulling his coat tighter around his shoulder. His wife, Simone, followed him closely, whistling when she pulled her camel beanie over her ears.

"This is a bad idea," he mumbled, rubbing his palms together in an attempt to stay warm.

A couple steps ahead were two men in uniform scoping out the neighbourhood, hands on their holster.

The man in charge of his protection was standing at the curb of the street, talking to a plain clothes officer sitting behind the wheel of a green Sedan. Detective Graham had come highly recommended and while the man wanted to be anywhere but here, he took his job seriously. When Graham had first briefed him on the procedures put in place for this evening, he had assured him that he had never lost a principal and wouldn't start with him now.

The street was a picture perfect representation of suburbia- large brick houses with spacious gardens, old oak trees, white picket fences and black SUVs in the driveway. They had moved onto Browning Street a few years back when Simone was pregnant with Sophia. Simone, who had come from a broken home, ached for a brick painted display of normalcy for their first child and William, who had loved his wife more than he hated the suburbs, had agreed.

Browning Street was bustling with trick or treaters knocking on each door; front porches were decked out with jack-o-lanterns, bats decorating the cladding of many houses and scarecrows swaying slightly in the breeze.

The child in question, now five, pushed her way past his legs, a mixture of wild curls and long limbs. Dressed up as a porcupine, she sent Detective Graham a wide grin, proudly presenting her first lost tooth.

"Sophia," Simone called her daughter behind him and slung her arm through his. His heart sped up as he smiled down at his wife, momentarily forgetting how to breathe. If he hadn't loved her infinitely already, then he might love her a bit more every day.

"Come on!" Sophia yelled impatiently and stomped her little feet, shooting daggers at her parents. Not listening to her mom's warning, she stormed into the street, swinging her pumpkin bucket, thus setting all the men around her in motion.

Detective Graham waved at the driver of the Vauxhall and hastily followed the child. Sophia beelined across their neighbor's front garden and came to an abrupt stop in front of the red wooden door decorated with a festive wreath. Her hands formed into little fists and she enthusiastically started pounding against the wood.

"Dorothy!" She yelled for her neighbour. "Mr Dorothy!"

He cast a nervous look over his shoulder, counting the officers with their back to his, observing the bustle of the street. Simone's hand shot down, calmly pressing her palm against his bicep, reassuring him that everything was going to be alright.