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Joined Jul 13, 2016
Leisure Writer Reviewer Beta Reader
Born 12th Feb
Writer's Blog
<div style="text-align:center;font-weight:bold;">Writer</div>Virgil Pillay<div style="text-align:center;font-weight:bold;">Beta Reader</div>ShadowBobcat10

So this is me...

The worst possible version of my self. Sometimes I wonder if there are any other versions of me out there somewhere. Versions that made different choices, versions that made better choices. Maybe there's a version of me that's has it all, that's living the dream.

I guess that's my problem. I'm a dreamer. I dream big, I want it all and I want it now. That's how I live, moving from one dream to the next, moving from one score to the next. I've been chasing dreams for so long. It has led me down some dark and narrow roads. There have been so many twists and turns, I can't find my way back... I need to get back, I've got to get back.

But let's all be honest here for a moment, before you sit there on your high horse looking down on people like me, we're all dreamers. The only difference between you and and me is I'm willing to take what I want, I'm willing to get my hands dirty. There's blood on my hands, but don't you worry your pretty little head. It's not my blood.

The finer details of this dream are always changing, but the end is always the same. Me on top, me getting respected, me being feared. There's no room for attachment in this dream, that's what I keep telling myself, and it's sound advice. Feelings can get you dead in this dream.

Guess I should have taken my own advice. But I was never too good at listening.

I met girl, Suzie... and you can guess the rest. Bottom line, the dream started to change. It started to change the day she told me she was pregnant. A million thoughts rushed through my mind. Now the new dream has an overwhelming urge to protect and defend, an urge I can't deny, an urge I don't want to deny. The problem is there's too much blood on my hands, and there are people, one in particular, Big Tommy Tucker, who were looking for a soft spot, a chink in my armour. If any of them found out about Suzie...

I chase the rabbit down the hole so many times I don't know which way is up.

I decide it's time to run, it's time to put some distance between me and the old dream. So I buy a couple bus tickets to nowhere. Suzie and I. That's the new dream.

So here we are in the last act, Suzie and I, about to ride off into the sunset. How could I have been so foolish? These are not the kind of dreams you run from. These are the kind of dreams you face head on, if you want to put and end to it. Life's ironic like that.

Guess who I bump into at the bus depot? Little Tommy Tucker, Big Tom's kid and he's got 5 goons with him. I'm not scared. I know how to handle myself in a pinch. Then I turn to Suzie and see the chink in armour. It looks like my ride into the sunset will have to wait. I put Suzie on the bus and ask her if she trusts me. She drops her head to my chest and nods. I can feel her gentle sobs as I take her by the hand and lead her to her seat, I watch as she places one hand on her swollen belly as she walks down the isle. An image that will forever be etched into my mind. I hear the bus pull off as I pop a toothpick into my mouth and casually make my way over to Tommy and his goons.

Little Tommy nods at me and says, "It's too noisy here to talk. Why don't we find somewhere a bit more private?" I give him a nod, and he leads the way to an office at the back.

So here I am with little Tommy Tucker and his 5 goons, stuck in this little room. Little Tommy smiles at me looking like the cat that's swallowed the canary. He looks like he's about to say something, but before he gets a word out I tear into one of his goons. Filled with such rage, a red veil falls over my eyes, and his body suddenly goes limp in my hands. I see the rest fumbling for their guns as little Tommy starts to backtrack. I use this lifeless goon as a shield as I get closer to the next goon. My heart is racing, my hands are trembling with rage. I black out for a few seconds as the rage takes over...

I come to, breathing heavy, my chest seeming to have a mind of its own as it rises and falls. I look down and see that I'm standing over one of the goons lifeless body. I look back and see the bloody mess behind me. I turn around and see little Tommy Tucker cowering in a corner fumbling with a little pea shooter. I make my way towards him and he manages to get off a shot. Fortunately, he misses, and I reach down and grab him with both hands around his neck and lift him up. He starts to beg, but when he sees that's not working, he resorts to threats.

"I saw your girl," he says.  "I know which bus she got on. My dad's gonna find her." I loosen my grip on him and let him fall to the floor. He was right. Big Tommy was as mean as he was smart. It would only be a matter of time before he found Suzie. Little Tommy, thinking he had the best of me, now started to shoot off his mouth again, this time describing what he was going to do to Suzie when he found her.

The red veil fell over my eyes again. If only little Tommy  had kept his mouth shut. I black out again for a few seconds. When I come too little Tommy's lifeless body is lying at my feet. More blood on my hands, and this time I was going to have to pay back.

My mind drifts back to Suzie, this overwhelming urge to protect her leads me to one final conclusion.

I head over to Big Tommy's with a rather large duffle bag. The guy at the door tries to stop me, but I make short work of him. I force my way in, and I'm greeted by group of broad shouldered slabs of meat seated around a table. I throw the duffel bag down and ask for Big Tommy. One of the goons gets up, while the rest remain seated. I deal with him rather quickly, but it's too late. The rest of the goons get the jump on me. They knock me out cold.

I wake up in a cold room tied to chair with Big Tommy seated across the room from me, with the duffel bag between us. He sits there with his eyes fixed on the bag, as he rubs his chin nervously I see his eyes full of tears as he asks me, "What's in the bag?"

He knows what's in the bag, he just can't bring himself to admit it. "Why don't you open the bag and take a look for yourself?" I ask.

Big Tommy nervously reaches out for the zipper, but can't bring himself to open the bag. He bursts into tears, crying out loud. "NOT MY BOY, NOT MY SWEET BOY!"  In a fit of rage, he lurches at me. Using only his mits, he starts to pummel me, screaming, "WHY? WHY? WHY? TELL ME WHY?"

Squinting out of my one good eye, I look him square in the eye. "You can kill the dreamer, but you can't kill the dream," I say.

Big Tommy had no idea what I was talking about. "WHAT THE HELL ARE TALKING ABOUT?" he screams "WHY DID YOU HURT MY BOY?"

Right there and then the dream changed again. It was no longer me and Suzie. It was the baby, and then it dawned on me as Big Tommy continued his assault. Maybe I was right. Maybe there is another version of me out there. Maybe this baby is it, this is my second chance, a chance to do things right, a chance to make the right decisions. A brand new version of me. Suzie would be a good mother. She would raise him right.

Big Tommy continued to pummel me. I could literaly feel the life slipping out of my body. In his mind I was just some punk out to make a name for myself. There would never be any need for him to go digging around. He had his vengeance. Suzie and the baby were safe.

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