I had prayed something like this would never happen. Another prayer goes unanswered.
Thank God there was no blood. The Marine Corps had taught me how to kill in a clean, quick fashion. After the first one went down there wasn’t much that could be done to convince the other two to bother with me. I had to get out of there. There wasn’t much point in moving the body, he would be found nonetheless. I had to get out of there with a quickness though, so I took off running.
I wasn’t worried about the other two hoodlums. They probably had rap sheets as long as I am tall, but I really hoped that no one else had caught sight of what happened. A murderous insane homeless man probably wouldn’t have much of a chance in court. Even if the kid had been scum, HE was the dead one, not me. He hadn’t even touched me with that knife. I HAD always been quick, even for a big man.
You killed that man.
I know. It had to be done.
Are you sure?
I sure as fuck wasn’t in the mood to talk to HIM at the moment. I had plenty of time for that in the future. My life included listening to HIM enough as it was. Ever since that one moment all those years ago, he had been a part of my life. That voice.
I wanted to believe that it was just me talking to me. But it was just too....independent, to be that. It had to be something more. Was it a guardian angel? The devil? God himself? I wish I knew. Ever since that moment when I snapped back in the Corps because I believed what the voice told me, he has been there. Frankly, I’m not sure whether its a hindrance or a blessing. The doctors always told me it was just part of my condition. Medication would take care of it. I wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore, they said. What they didn’t tell me was that my choice was either being a fat eunuch or being influenced by a voice in my head. At the moment, fat eunuch doesn’t sound too bad.
I arrived at the coffee shop, out of breath and ready to collapse. The damn tools were weighing me down. I’ll hock the fucking things tomorrow.
“Sit wherever you’d like, Sir. Not much of a crowd tonight,” a crusty old waitress barked at me from across the counter.
“Yes, ma'am.” Speaking was difficult, I was still out of wind from the marathon I had just ran. I knew what I wanted, though, and it came on a REAL plate, with REAL au jus, in a REAL bun, with REAL prime rib. It wasn’t some shit from a soup kitchen. It was a FRENCH DIP. I saddled up to the counter and ordered. I must’ve looked like a kid in a candy store. Who would’ve thought that I’d just eased somebody a few minutes earlier. I swiveled on my stool and stared blankly at the nightly news. No doubt my crime would be on later in the day. God, what was I going to do.
You could off yourself.
Blow me.
“'Scuse me, could you turn that up?” I looked toward the screen and listened closely to the middle-aged, silver haired news anchor. This broadcast was obviously taped from earlier in the day, but I’m not exactly able to carry around a portable TV or anything. I catch the news when I can and right now I needed something to get my head straightened.
“Today, a different kind of crime. The motive, unknown. The identity of the perpetrator purely speculation so far. What is for sure, though, is that something horrible has happened. In this fine suburban neighborhood, where its supposed to be safe for children to ride bikes and play in their yards, its been found that it isn’t even safe for a child to walk home from school. A young boy was kidnapped today on his trip home from school. Let’s go to Alex Curreras who has more. Alex?” Alex was a handsome motherfucker. I hope he got paid well for matching his tie with his hair.
“In this beautiful neighborhood today, a young boy was walking home from school when he was snatched off the street just about a hundred feet from his house. There was an eyewitness to the event, a construction worker who was laying tar a few hundred feet away. The boy had walked by the construction site merely seconds earlier when, according to the construction worker, he was snatched up by a man who emerged from the back of a limo, of all things. We go now to Lisa Terrer, who is with the child’s mother.”
I didn’t recognize the reporter, but who was she standing next to...My God! It was Amy. No, no, please, God, no. Christian...NO!!!!!!!
Thank God there was no blood. The Marine Corps had taught me how to kill in a clean, quick fashion. After the first one went down there wasn’t much that could be done to convince the other two to bother with me. I had to get out of there. There wasn’t much point in moving the body, he would be found nonetheless. I had to get out of there with a quickness though, so I took off running.
I wasn’t worried about the other two hoodlums. They probably had rap sheets as long as I am tall, but I really hoped that no one else had caught sight of what happened. A murderous insane homeless man probably wouldn’t have much of a chance in court. Even if the kid had been scum, HE was the dead one, not me. He hadn’t even touched me with that knife. I HAD always been quick, even for a big man.
You killed that man.
I know. It had to be done.
Are you sure?
I sure as fuck wasn’t in the mood to talk to HIM at the moment. I had plenty of time for that in the future. My life included listening to HIM enough as it was. Ever since that one moment all those years ago, he had been a part of my life. That voice.
I wanted to believe that it was just me talking to me. But it was just too....independent, to be that. It had to be something more. Was it a guardian angel? The devil? God himself? I wish I knew. Ever since that moment when I snapped back in the Corps because I believed what the voice told me, he has been there. Frankly, I’m not sure whether its a hindrance or a blessing. The doctors always told me it was just part of my condition. Medication would take care of it. I wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore, they said. What they didn’t tell me was that my choice was either being a fat eunuch or being influenced by a voice in my head. At the moment, fat eunuch doesn’t sound too bad.
I arrived at the coffee shop, out of breath and ready to collapse. The damn tools were weighing me down. I’ll hock the fucking things tomorrow.
“Sit wherever you’d like, Sir. Not much of a crowd tonight,” a crusty old waitress barked at me from across the counter.
“Yes, ma'am.” Speaking was difficult, I was still out of wind from the marathon I had just ran. I knew what I wanted, though, and it came on a REAL plate, with REAL au jus, in a REAL bun, with REAL prime rib. It wasn’t some shit from a soup kitchen. It was a FRENCH DIP. I saddled up to the counter and ordered. I must’ve looked like a kid in a candy store. Who would’ve thought that I’d just eased somebody a few minutes earlier. I swiveled on my stool and stared blankly at the nightly news. No doubt my crime would be on later in the day. God, what was I going to do.
You could off yourself.
Blow me.
“'Scuse me, could you turn that up?” I looked toward the screen and listened closely to the middle-aged, silver haired news anchor. This broadcast was obviously taped from earlier in the day, but I’m not exactly able to carry around a portable TV or anything. I catch the news when I can and right now I needed something to get my head straightened.
“Today, a different kind of crime. The motive, unknown. The identity of the perpetrator purely speculation so far. What is for sure, though, is that something horrible has happened. In this fine suburban neighborhood, where its supposed to be safe for children to ride bikes and play in their yards, its been found that it isn’t even safe for a child to walk home from school. A young boy was kidnapped today on his trip home from school. Let’s go to Alex Curreras who has more. Alex?” Alex was a handsome motherfucker. I hope he got paid well for matching his tie with his hair.
“In this beautiful neighborhood today, a young boy was walking home from school when he was snatched off the street just about a hundred feet from his house. There was an eyewitness to the event, a construction worker who was laying tar a few hundred feet away. The boy had walked by the construction site merely seconds earlier when, according to the construction worker, he was snatched up by a man who emerged from the back of a limo, of all things. We go now to Lisa Terrer, who is with the child’s mother.”
I didn’t recognize the reporter, but who was she standing next to...My God! It was Amy. No, no, please, God, no. Christian...NO!!!!!!!