(CW Warning: Extreme Violence.)
I needed to kill my lover’s lover. It had to be me. I would get it done the way it needed to be done. It rolled around in my brain until the plan formed. A carefully threaded list of objectives I needed to do over the next week. I was already accustomed to their schedule. Their sparking rendezvous. I will be fine. It’ll be quick for me. Not for him. I knew where he would be Saturday night. Follow the steps. Don’t let the fear and hesitancy overtake me. No. No.
Monday I transferred some money over to my mom for a “loan”. She took the cash out for me. I sat on it for the night.
Tuesday is when I bought the outfit, paired with the gloves. A new pair of boots. Everything was black. My brother had his own balaclava. I took it. Sunglasses were the last thing I purchased. I burned the receipts with a lighter.
Wednesday is when I bought the shotgun. My brother’s homie was selling it. Shit was old and illegal on account of it being cut. The butt of the rifle and the barrel was sawed off. He received a thick wad of cash. That same day I bought two boxes of double O.
Thursday morning I went out to the mountains. Across a dried lake with white sand. Rocks coated the mountains like red pimples. The sky was cloudless. Bluer than the pacific. I went through a box of shells. I smelled gunpowder on my fingers on the way home.
Friday I made sure we both had the night off. I took her out to a nice dinner at a Mexican restaurant. We pigged out. There was a sparkle. Twinkles of something that used to be. It fizzled out before we could grab it. No matter.
Saturday morning started with a jog. There was definitely a bounce to my steps. The sun peaked at me from behind the clouds. I listened to the morning birds chattering to each other.
She announced she would be going out to me during our date. I agreed it would do her great.
Night came quicker than I could have imagined. Her scent and sweet mist followed her out of the door. I changed into my outfit. Folding the face mask to resemble a beanie. I took a cab and secured the shotgun in my coat. I paid in cash and got out.
The breeze wiped itself across my face as I pulled the balaclava down from my forehead. I saw her car parked against a meter. I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. I put on my sunglasses and went into the window littered building.
The supply closet under the stairs had been abandoned long ago. The darkness shadowed me until midnight. The wait was bearable.
I heard her voice begin to trail down the stairs.
She was ahead of him as I racked the shotgun. She was closer to the front door. He looked at me first. Over his shoulder. I pointed the barrel at his left knee.
The shot blared into everyone's ears as his kneecap blew out onto the tiled floor. He instantly fell as my lover gasped in shock. I racked it again. The smoking shell danced around my feet. He held out his hands. The next group of pellets hit him. His own blood covered his face as he screamed out in agony. A look of disbelief as his right hand was erased from existence. It eased my undulating chest into a smooth rhythm. I could hear his pain. My pain. When I looked up she was gone and out of the door. Good.
Another shell bounced down and into his growing puddle of blood. I could see the tears dripping from his chin. I took two steps forward and put another shot into his stomach. The blood stuck to my boots like tar.
I took in a deep breath and closed my eyes as I listened to his life squeak away. I pictured it again in my mind. The fingers ripping apart. Bone and pink matter flying back into his own face as he realized his mistake. I took in another deep breath and looked down at him. I could hear the sirens whining from far away.
I racked another shell and knelt down next to his corpse with the barrel pointed up into my own chin. The heat from the metal warmed the cloth it touched.
But – my hands began to tremble. I lowered the barrel. I opened my eyes as my fingertips began to tingle, like they were encased in ice. His blood pooled around my ankles now.
I realized the hole in my chest still remained. An open abyssal gap in my being that just needed one more thing. One more lick of life.
The anger burst into my eyes as tears. I looked at the open door. The rage carried me outside into the cool air. His blood was warm and soaking into my knees.
She was in her car. I ripped my mask off and sent my sunglasses flying. I stared at her through the windshield. She saw the wrath that replaced my usual gaze and already started opening the driver's side door.
I aimed the shotgun. The bitch was quick. She dove out of the way. The pellets shattered through the windshield and tore into the headrest. The bitch was behind the car. The racking slide cut through the stillness the buckshot created. The sirens were close. Real close.
It was now or never. I shuffled around the front of her car. My eye caught the glimpse of her shoe inching around the back end. I fired another shell and blew out the tire. Barely missing her.
Five shots – I was all out. Fuck it. I threw the shotgun into the street. It clattered away as my boots crunched over the glass. She screamed as I threw myself at her. We flung onto the sidewalk.
Saying nothing – I wrapped my bloodied hands around her throat and began tightening my grip. She scratched at me. Nails tearing into my flesh like butter. No matter. I needed her lifeless body before me. I closed my eyes.
That’s when she was able to reach her small pocket knife. She stabbed me right in the fucking eyeball. Through the thin flesh of my eyelid and everything. My fist found its mark on her cheek as she kicked me off. The sirens bore down through the street.
Multiple voices full of testosterone and adrenaline began shouting into my buzzing ears.
Before I knew it I was in cuffs and brought to the hospital. They got everything on me. The shotgun. The extra ammo in my apartment. His blood on my clothes. And finally her eyewitness testimony. She wore a big collared jacket to hide the marks I left.
Hiding my smile was hard to do in that courtroom. I plead guilty anyways. Who gives a shit. They just needed the extra piss trial on the cake full of shit.
Twenty five to life. They carried me off to the sobs of his family and her small tears. None of my family showed up. It hit me on the bus ride to prison. Like a wave of relief from the tip of my skull to the heels of my feet. Like the shots of morphine when I lay in that hospital bed.
The stone walls and twisted wire came into view from the dirty window I looked out of. Instead of isolation, I saw his face. The one he made before the first shot. The flash of dread as he saw the black barrel aimed at him. Then a mangled body afterwards. Like I chopped him up. The chuckle escaped out of my mouth. Then I laughed.
Even if Hell had me switch spots with my victim for eternity — or whatever the Devil had planned — I would gladly relive that moment over and over again. It would feel good to consume the fear he felt before he felt his fucking knee fall apart. The agony of blood gushing from your wounds to find your hand gone. Its pieces on your face and neck. I laughed even louder. Or maybe – just maybe – I can find him down there too. Amongst the fire and brimstone. I cackled.
(This was not written today. This is a draft I have had for a long time. Inspired by ’s Flash Fiction February and encouraged to drop by some time ago. Busy week, edited today. Thank you for reading and I encourage you to leave a piece of mind. It’s always accepted.)
BuymeAJoint <3
Brilliant! Great one!
Holy wowzers this was like a movie, vivid & realistic, but I was inside the character. You know how to drop a reader inside the action!