Killing someone isn’t something that the average person can get over in a day. To have killed someone means you have stopped their clock. They can no longer wake up, eat, enjoy time with their friends and family, they can no longer live. Now, obviously this is a very ‘duh’ statement. Stupid as fuck to really explain this. Even kids understand this when they scrape their knee for the first time.
Most of the time, people probably feel guilt or a sense of regret when they kill their first person. That is, if they ever find themselves in a position to do so. Me on the other hand? Well, I wanted him out of my life for sure. I had no intention of killing him, but what was done was done. What was I supposed to do, cry over it? What good is that going to do? I didn’t even know the guy.
“Listen Stu, I’m just not in the mood,” Amy complains, her lips separating from mine. She gets up off of me and hangs her bare legs over the bed. “I just can’t believe what happened.”
“I know.” I rock my head back, my eyes tracked to a poster on the ceiling of some pop idol group. It had become a norm at this point, feigning sympathy, pretending to care. All of it was much too easy, but admittedly was becoming more and more taxing by the day. The sooner we could move past this incident and get back to our normal lives, the better. Just have to keep up the charade a little longer. “Do you think you can forgive me?”
“Stu, it was an accident!” She turns around to look at me, concern in her voice. “The police saw for themselves what happened. I saw what happened. It’s... it’s life.” Her gaze drops to the floor. “Listen,” she says, grabbing her purse off the floor. “I’m going to go to a friend’s tonight, okay? I know my parents are out for tonight, but it just doesn’t feel right. I just can’t do it.”
I breathe a deep sigh through my nostrils, and sit up. Patting down the pockets of my jeans to make sure I have my wallet and keys, Amy escorts me outside. I give her a peck on the cheek after she locks the door to her home, and the two of us make our ways to our respective cars. She’s driving off by the time I’ve reached my car.
The vehicle’s nothing special, not even sure of the make actually. If it were up to me I wouldn’t even drive, but my dad had a habit of reminding me how important it was for me to lose my virginity. For that, I’d need a car, and thankfully he was willing to foot the bill for a decent one that just about any girl would be impressed with.
I poke the key into the lock, and suddenly I feel something hard and metallic against the back of my head.
“Don’t move,” growls a deep, hateful voice.
With a single thought, time stops around me. I twist around to see a balding man who looks to be in his forties or fifties with a gun pointed at me. Using my index finger, I move the load screen away a couple feet and check the outside pockets of his jacket. Nothing. I check the inside pockets of his jacket, still nothing.
I breathe a heavy sigh as I look down at his pants pockets. This is going to feel weird. I shove my hand into the pockets of the man’s jeans, and finally I find a wallet tucked away in his back pocket. Opening it up reveals a man by the name of Alfred Larista. The name sounds vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite place where I’ve heard the name. Well, at the very least, I should disarm this man’s weapon and see why he’s here.
Plucking his fingers from the gun one by one, I pull open his hand and take away his weapon. Maybe it’s because everything’s stopped, but I still can’t get used to how objects feel in this space. I pull back the slide and I’m surprised to see what’s inside. There aren’t any bullets in the chamber. Just in case, I pull open the magazine to see the same thing. He was never planning to kill me. So why’s here’s then, making some meaningless threat? Well, now I’m really curious to see where this goes. Making sure I retrace my steps as perfectly as I can, I put everything back where I found it and wrap his fingers back around the gun. I step back over to the driver’s side door and just as I will it, time moves again.
“All right, I’m not gonna move.” I slowly raise my arms. Let’s talk this out.”
“Talk this out? Talking this out isn’t going to bring back my son! You’re the son of a bitch who killed him, you god damned monster!”
You’re in way over your head, old man.
“It was an accident,” I fake saying in a distraught tone. “I didn’t wanna kill him.”
“He talked about you, you know. He said how much of a coward, how much of an asshole you were! You killed our little angel you motherfucker!”
I sigh.
“Please don’t do this, sir. Is this what he would want? Your son? Would he really want to see his own father going out and killing another kid? I don’t think so.”
“No... no, he wouldn’t. But I can’t deal with this. I have nothing left to live for, anymore! I’ve lost my wife, my job! Now you took my only child away from me!” He pushes the back of my head with the gun. “So what have I got to lose?”
Once he spits those words out, curiosity strikes me once again and I bring up the load screen. It had only been a day, but based off what I’ve heard already, I was willing to wager he had already planned the funeral. Another check through his wallet proves my suspicions.
“Good Care Services,” I say aloud. I turn the card around in my hand to see an address. Pocketing it, I turn back around with the gun against my head and resume time.
“I won’t turn around,” I tell the old man. “I just wanna continue on with my life. I’m very sorry for your loss, I truly wish there was something I could do. I have a girlfriend waiting for me at home.”
“Don’t lie! I watched you come out of there!”
I bring up the load screen with a loud sigh.
“Fucking pain in the ass,” I say, ripping the gun from his hand. I smack the man across the face with the side of the gun a few times, blood stopping in mid-air from the impacts. I give him one big shove with the bottom of my shoe, and with another thought, resume time.
“Ahhhh! What, wha-wha-what happened?” he asks, collapsing to the floor.
“Shut up! God, you old people go on and on and on about, ‘oh my son, oh my god, why me,’ just shut the fuck up!” With one swift kick to his side, the lights in the other homes turn on, and I can see I’ve caught the attention of the neighbors. “Guess it’s time to fix this up.”
Bringing up the load screen for what I’m hoping is the last time tonight, I browse over to the spot before I mentioned my girlfriend and hit the ‘LOAD STATE’ button.
“I’m very sorry for your loss, I truly wish there was something I could do,” I repeat. “All I can do is hope he’s in a better place.”
Instead of the ranting and raving I heard before, silence fills the air. I can hear the shaking of the gun, its empty chamber rattling against the shell.
“I’m sorry,” the man says.
Before I can get another word out, the gun parts ways from my head and I can hear the rapid movement of shoes against asphalt growing distant. When I can no longer hear his feet, I turn around. There’s no one here but me.
This morning proved to be much better than I was anticipating. Amy met me with a lengthy apology, the two of us making out behind the school building. It was so much fun in fact, that I decided to replay the instance and see how far I could push her. Turns out, not very. Any further intimacy would have to wait until later on in our relationship.
It had been two days since I had shot Larista. The day after I had, there was an eerie air of silence among most of the students, but today? It was if it had never happened. How quickly people were willing to forget a tragedy. Not that I cared. It works out for me in the end. Turns out the little shit really was hated around the school. How hilarious it was to see students running around pretending to care about him when they couldn’t care any less. Absolutely priceless.
This didn’t mean it was over just yet, though. It wouldn’t really further my goal if I was to show up at his funeral, but I just had to know how many people actually cared about this moron. The funeral would be held today at 3:30 pm. I’m going to make sure his father knows I’m there.
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