"Are you still there Will? You haven't got a lot of time, I thought that much was clear!"
My heart raced at a hundred beats every time the smaller hand on my watch turned. I had let things gather up to the point of collapsing upon themselves and I was there to stand beneath it all as it fell. I tell this story to you, in past tense, meaning you should work out that I'm alive, and telling you this story because I am alive and because I want to tell it. The truth is I don't want to be alive, and I don't want to tell it, but I have to. Don't ask me why until I've told you my story.
It started with a gun in my back pocket, and a supermarket across the way to where myself and my wife lived. She was pregnant, I was always working, she was always trying to stay positive while I only saw the negatives, the finance. She told me that as long as we had each other and the baby we'd be okay, but in a society where we were raised to expect more I had to provide for them both by expecting that I can. The stress got to me though. The plan wasn't to rob the store, but to relieve some of the stress. I would have much prefered a time machine than a gun, so I can go back in time to the time where the idea of a gun was first mentioned, or better yet, when the idea of the cannon was first mentioned, because no good has come from the barrel of a gun, or the handle. I walked confidently into the store, and the person behind the counter did not recognise me. A common teenager, making some money to pay for some more spot cream. I led my feet to the back, to the milk and cheese section, waiting, watching over the counter tops to see when the store was empty and accessable. I'd passed two gentlemen on the way, black jackets, very shady. Well, I suppose I was quite shady that night too, but they didn't pay much attention to me. I only paid attention to them when the blood pumped on the outside of the man to the left, leaving not only a trail of spreading blood, but money as well.
The bag he held had split from the gunshot piercing multiple things before it impacted the bag of pasta behind him. The second of the gentleman looked over to the man over the counter, and shot him first in the ear, second in the eye, third in the soul, because by that point the boy had nothing left to give to the murderer. I was the last man standing in the store, one last target. He turned, smiling, raising his baseball hat. Then, a moment of weakness, a twitch in his left eye, a quiver on his lips. Fear. I had created a sense of fear in a man that was quite happy to have walked over three corpses that night. So much fear even, that he'd chosen to run instead of fight. At the time, I'd considered if he knew I had the gun in my pocket. He had no idea.
A couple of nights passed, and I was distant with Lucy on the first. She asked me why I shook, I said I was cold. She asked me why I had a blank expression, I said I was thinking. She asked me why I had a gun in the drawer under the sink. I said I was scared. The second night, I didn't see Lucy at all, thought to myself she'd hidden herself in her room and snuck out to work to avoid looking at me until I told her the truth. Never was really good at lying, especially not to her. The third night, the phone rang on the coffee table, next to where I had decided to sleep until Lucy had calmed down. The phone call was short, no names were exchanged, just a simple warning, and a location. The roof of the Hansworth Bank.
The night air ate away at my fears as I stood on the rooftop, waiting for anything to happen. The city was quiet, cars journeying home to get some rest passed by every half an hour. Then, a light flickered on on the building opposite, on the floor directly opposite to the level of the roof I stood on. I saw two figures, one lower than the other, and a sudden ringing coming from the left of me. Underneath the cardboard boxes stacked neatly next to me I found a phone, and a pair of binoculars. The phone came first for me..
"Who is this..?" I asked against the night.
"My name, is Billy P. Freshman, why don't you take a quick looky through those by-no-ku-lars I gave you?"
Through those binoculars I saw my life summed up to one defining moment, for through clarity I saw a man towering over my tied-up-to-a-chair-and-beaten wife with a gun to her temple, and the fear in her eyes was clearer than the voice on the phone.
"Are you still there Will? You haven't got a lot of time, I thought that much was clear!"
"Y-yes yes, I'm still here!"
"Well good! I'm glad you could join us on this bee-ee-a-you-ti-ful night! You remember me yet Will? It coming back to you yet?"
"The baseball cap you're wearing.. You're the man I saw in the supermarket the other night!"
"No Will! More answers like that and your wife will know what led through the head tastes like! Oh, and I'd watch what you say, this phone is pretty loud, so you're wife will be joining our conversation tonight as well. Although, I don't think she'll be a talkative one, what with all the tape she's currently chewing on!"
"O-okay okay, I understand...... But you were at the supermarket the other night.."
"That I was Will. Y-see, since I left college, I got mixed up with the wrong crowds, made a lot of bad calls, and one thing... and one.."
He was interrupted for a moment by his laughter.
"Oh I am sorry Will, I just can't keep a straight face while saying that! The truth is I am here today because of you!"
"Wha-"
"Let me explain, as age seems to have taken its' tole on the less fortunate such as yourself. My name is Billy P. Freshman, winner of the award for sitting behind the biggest tool in the country, which is you, Will. Well, that was what that award was called, but that quickly became monster before you knew it. In high school, I had one friend, a girl, friend, and her name, was Rebecca. Rebecca Stone. Rebecca and I loved Chemistry, the science of magic we used to call it. She was the brightest girl I knew. Then, one day, you joined the class. Big guy jock walks into the room, and everyone is interested in what he has to say. What did you say, huh Will? What did you say!!!"
"..... I-"
"You said I didn't know they let dogs go to school!!!!! You said that to her face without blinking, without hesitation, without mercy! Your heart was cold, and broken, and hers was so warm, and vibrant. Until that day. Why would anyone disagree with big boy jock will? Why would anyone disagree with a monster, who is capable of destroying a life within seconds, because that's what you are Will, and that's what you did! She cried in my arms, she cried alone, she cried when the rocks were thrown, when her locker was broken by others, when children chased her calling names like they were artillery raining down upon her. Within a week, she stopped talking to people. Within two, she stopped talking to me. Three, her parents. Four, the world. Apparently a bottle of sleeping pills stolen from her mother was better than being in a world where you existed. I knew if I cried for her loss, I couldn't amount to how much she had. By age 15, you were already a monster, and a murderer..."
"Billy, I didn't mean for things to go that w-"
"Then what way did you think they would go?! No, no excuses, you will stand there, and watch your love die, powerless to stop it. I am just repaying the favour. .......However. I am not you. You are the monster, and this woman who was stupid enough to fool for the person on the outside of you is not you. So, I'll give you some free will, I'll give you, a choice. Either this bullet hits her head, or your head hits the sidewalk, below. A jump to cure you of your sins, to make the world a better place by you not being in it."
"Can... can my wife still hear me.."
"She can."
"Lucy, Lucy listen to me. E-everything is going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay."
The tears from her at that moment were at visible as rain would be dripping down a window. I always was a bad liar. So, I looked her in the eyes, looking him in the eyes, and let my top half fall where it would, so my bottom half would shortly follow. I held the phone tightly on my way down, watching the ant crawling on the sidewalk getting easier and easier to see, only ever speaking into that phone again to say that I was sorry. I don't know who it was directed to however, if it was Billy, Lucy, or Rebecca, who haunted over Billy's shoulder.
I told you at the beginning, that this was past tense, so you must be sure that I survived. You must know that, somehow, the fall did not kill me, and I walked away far enough to get to you to tell this story to. The truth is a man can die in more ways than to just stop breathing. A man can die by breaking his legs, causing a clot to travel to his waist to cut off all motion to his lower half. A man can die by his head smacking concrete, sending him into a spiralling coma that he fears will never end. A man can die knowing that even if he lives or dies, the only woman he has ever loved will not return the love no matter the outcome, because of the bad choices he has made, and the lies he span for his own gain. Most of all, a man can die by trying to tell the story of what went wrong to him to a nurse on his bedside that can't hear a word he thinks because all he can do is think the words and not ever say them again.
I paid the price of my free will for something I now have the chance to regret over for the rest of my life as a dead man. Nothing good comes out of a barrel of a gun, but I can't think that with as much feeling anymore...
... because nothing good came out of me living either.
My heart raced at a hundred beats every time the smaller hand on my watch turned. I had let things gather up to the point of collapsing upon themselves and I was there to stand beneath it all as it fell. I tell this story to you, in past tense, meaning you should work out that I'm alive, and telling you this story because I am alive and because I want to tell it. The truth is I don't want to be alive, and I don't want to tell it, but I have to. Don't ask me why until I've told you my story.
It started with a gun in my back pocket, and a supermarket across the way to where myself and my wife lived. She was pregnant, I was always working, she was always trying to stay positive while I only saw the negatives, the finance. She told me that as long as we had each other and the baby we'd be okay, but in a society where we were raised to expect more I had to provide for them both by expecting that I can. The stress got to me though. The plan wasn't to rob the store, but to relieve some of the stress. I would have much prefered a time machine than a gun, so I can go back in time to the time where the idea of a gun was first mentioned, or better yet, when the idea of the cannon was first mentioned, because no good has come from the barrel of a gun, or the handle. I walked confidently into the store, and the person behind the counter did not recognise me. A common teenager, making some money to pay for some more spot cream. I led my feet to the back, to the milk and cheese section, waiting, watching over the counter tops to see when the store was empty and accessable. I'd passed two gentlemen on the way, black jackets, very shady. Well, I suppose I was quite shady that night too, but they didn't pay much attention to me. I only paid attention to them when the blood pumped on the outside of the man to the left, leaving not only a trail of spreading blood, but money as well.
The bag he held had split from the gunshot piercing multiple things before it impacted the bag of pasta behind him. The second of the gentleman looked over to the man over the counter, and shot him first in the ear, second in the eye, third in the soul, because by that point the boy had nothing left to give to the murderer. I was the last man standing in the store, one last target. He turned, smiling, raising his baseball hat. Then, a moment of weakness, a twitch in his left eye, a quiver on his lips. Fear. I had created a sense of fear in a man that was quite happy to have walked over three corpses that night. So much fear even, that he'd chosen to run instead of fight. At the time, I'd considered if he knew I had the gun in my pocket. He had no idea.
A couple of nights passed, and I was distant with Lucy on the first. She asked me why I shook, I said I was cold. She asked me why I had a blank expression, I said I was thinking. She asked me why I had a gun in the drawer under the sink. I said I was scared. The second night, I didn't see Lucy at all, thought to myself she'd hidden herself in her room and snuck out to work to avoid looking at me until I told her the truth. Never was really good at lying, especially not to her. The third night, the phone rang on the coffee table, next to where I had decided to sleep until Lucy had calmed down. The phone call was short, no names were exchanged, just a simple warning, and a location. The roof of the Hansworth Bank.
The night air ate away at my fears as I stood on the rooftop, waiting for anything to happen. The city was quiet, cars journeying home to get some rest passed by every half an hour. Then, a light flickered on on the building opposite, on the floor directly opposite to the level of the roof I stood on. I saw two figures, one lower than the other, and a sudden ringing coming from the left of me. Underneath the cardboard boxes stacked neatly next to me I found a phone, and a pair of binoculars. The phone came first for me..
"Who is this..?" I asked against the night.
"My name, is Billy P. Freshman, why don't you take a quick looky through those by-no-ku-lars I gave you?"
Through those binoculars I saw my life summed up to one defining moment, for through clarity I saw a man towering over my tied-up-to-a-chair-and-beaten wife with a gun to her temple, and the fear in her eyes was clearer than the voice on the phone.
"Are you still there Will? You haven't got a lot of time, I thought that much was clear!"
"Y-yes yes, I'm still here!"
"Well good! I'm glad you could join us on this bee-ee-a-you-ti-ful night! You remember me yet Will? It coming back to you yet?"
"The baseball cap you're wearing.. You're the man I saw in the supermarket the other night!"
"No Will! More answers like that and your wife will know what led through the head tastes like! Oh, and I'd watch what you say, this phone is pretty loud, so you're wife will be joining our conversation tonight as well. Although, I don't think she'll be a talkative one, what with all the tape she's currently chewing on!"
"O-okay okay, I understand...... But you were at the supermarket the other night.."
"That I was Will. Y-see, since I left college, I got mixed up with the wrong crowds, made a lot of bad calls, and one thing... and one.."
He was interrupted for a moment by his laughter.
"Oh I am sorry Will, I just can't keep a straight face while saying that! The truth is I am here today because of you!"
"Wha-"
"Let me explain, as age seems to have taken its' tole on the less fortunate such as yourself. My name is Billy P. Freshman, winner of the award for sitting behind the biggest tool in the country, which is you, Will. Well, that was what that award was called, but that quickly became monster before you knew it. In high school, I had one friend, a girl, friend, and her name, was Rebecca. Rebecca Stone. Rebecca and I loved Chemistry, the science of magic we used to call it. She was the brightest girl I knew. Then, one day, you joined the class. Big guy jock walks into the room, and everyone is interested in what he has to say. What did you say, huh Will? What did you say!!!"
"..... I-"
"You said I didn't know they let dogs go to school!!!!! You said that to her face without blinking, without hesitation, without mercy! Your heart was cold, and broken, and hers was so warm, and vibrant. Until that day. Why would anyone disagree with big boy jock will? Why would anyone disagree with a monster, who is capable of destroying a life within seconds, because that's what you are Will, and that's what you did! She cried in my arms, she cried alone, she cried when the rocks were thrown, when her locker was broken by others, when children chased her calling names like they were artillery raining down upon her. Within a week, she stopped talking to people. Within two, she stopped talking to me. Three, her parents. Four, the world. Apparently a bottle of sleeping pills stolen from her mother was better than being in a world where you existed. I knew if I cried for her loss, I couldn't amount to how much she had. By age 15, you were already a monster, and a murderer..."
"Billy, I didn't mean for things to go that w-"
"Then what way did you think they would go?! No, no excuses, you will stand there, and watch your love die, powerless to stop it. I am just repaying the favour. .......However. I am not you. You are the monster, and this woman who was stupid enough to fool for the person on the outside of you is not you. So, I'll give you some free will, I'll give you, a choice. Either this bullet hits her head, or your head hits the sidewalk, below. A jump to cure you of your sins, to make the world a better place by you not being in it."
"Can... can my wife still hear me.."
"She can."
"Lucy, Lucy listen to me. E-everything is going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay."
The tears from her at that moment were at visible as rain would be dripping down a window. I always was a bad liar. So, I looked her in the eyes, looking him in the eyes, and let my top half fall where it would, so my bottom half would shortly follow. I held the phone tightly on my way down, watching the ant crawling on the sidewalk getting easier and easier to see, only ever speaking into that phone again to say that I was sorry. I don't know who it was directed to however, if it was Billy, Lucy, or Rebecca, who haunted over Billy's shoulder.
I told you at the beginning, that this was past tense, so you must be sure that I survived. You must know that, somehow, the fall did not kill me, and I walked away far enough to get to you to tell this story to. The truth is a man can die in more ways than to just stop breathing. A man can die by breaking his legs, causing a clot to travel to his waist to cut off all motion to his lower half. A man can die by his head smacking concrete, sending him into a spiralling coma that he fears will never end. A man can die knowing that even if he lives or dies, the only woman he has ever loved will not return the love no matter the outcome, because of the bad choices he has made, and the lies he span for his own gain. Most of all, a man can die by trying to tell the story of what went wrong to him to a nurse on his bedside that can't hear a word he thinks because all he can do is think the words and not ever say them again.
I paid the price of my free will for something I now have the chance to regret over for the rest of my life as a dead man. Nothing good comes out of a barrel of a gun, but I can't think that with as much feeling anymore...
... because nothing good came out of me living either.