I Need Some Hand Lotion by Terveen Gill

He didn’t look like a man who had just killed his family.

Three shots fired.

Two people dead. His wife and his daughter.

One bullet to the brain, two to the heart.

Both had died instantly.

There was no fourth bullet. He had had no intention of killing himself.

This wasn’t a murder cum attempted suicide case. It was just murder.

No ‘because’, no ‘why’, no ‘before’, no ‘after’.

Plain murder. Cold-blooded.

That was tough to comprehend.

Why would this man want his family dead? Did he think he could get away with it?

The bodies were still on the floor, the blood splatter on the carpet and wall still fresh.

He sat on a chair in the kitchen.

‘I need some hand lotion. My hands are itchy and dry.’

That’s what he had been repeating since the past half hour.

He probably didn’t notice that his face and chest had blood on them.

It wasn’t his own but belonged to the deceased females who should have meant more to him.

His confession had been slick, no hitches, no bumps, no loopholes.

He bought the gun two days ago and shot his wife and daughter two hours ago.

Why?

He hadn’t made up his mind about it yet.

‘They’re in a better place now. This world is a bad place.’

Then he would contradict himself.

‘They deserved to die. This world doesn’t need more sinners.’

Before we could get any further, he would repeat his weird request.

‘I need some hand lotion. My hands are itchy and dry.’

The only reason I kept listening was because he had been more than cooperative.

They usually say a murder case with a helpful suspect and an honest confession save time, money, and a lot of hassle.

I told him that he would be going to jail for a very long time. No chance of parole.

He looked at me, but it felt like he was looking right through me.

A tear fell from his left eye on to his hand. I thought he had finally lost his composure. The pretense and acting were over.

‘I need some hand lotion. My hands are itchy and dry.’

However, his words proved me wrong – again.

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