Here's a story that I wrote a few months ago. Ta!
All of us, standing in a circle, surrounding the casket. Everyone is dressed appropriately in black, and people cry as the priest says a few words about the deceased. I stand in the back, and I cannot shed another tear, for I have used them all up. A raindrop hits the bridge of my nose. It’s beginning to rain, so I open up the umbrella. Raining on the day of his funeral, how perfect. I smile sadly as I remember how he used to say that rain were the teardrops of great gods looking down at us and crying. How fitting. You’ve taken another one from us. From me. Why God? I bitterly thought. When I opened up my umbrella, I could hear the spattering of the rain against the cloth of the umbrella. As the priest says a few more words, he motions for the casket to be lowered.
I stand from a reasonable distance. Near enough where I can see the casket being lowered but far enough so I don’t see the glares from other people, violently asking why I’m not crying at my own husband’s funeral. I don’t think I can cry anymore. Another half an hour passes and everyone leaves. I’m the only one left standing there. I cautiously walk to the grave. On the tombstone it said, “ Theodore Shay, June 14th 1976 – February 2nd 2010, loving friend, cop and husband.” Then I read the little quote at the bottom that I insisted be put there. It was his favorite. The quote read,
‘To see the world in a grain of sand,
And heaven in a wildflower,
To hold infinity in the palm of my hand,
And eternity in an hour.’
I lowered my eyes and tried to force myself to cry, but nothing came out. I really must be used up. Then, I walked through the cemetery, weaving my way through tombstones and graves. I reached the gate of the cemetery and looked back, hearing footsteps, my heart skipped a beat as I thought, for one foolish second, it was him. But when I turned it was just a black cat that hissed at my sudden movements. I bent my head and walked on the bleak, grey pavement. My thoughts went astray and I remembered the murder that happened there, at Peacock Avenue. The murder my husband and I tried to stop.
The murder where my husband had died.
We were in the middle of the restaurant. Two people were already dead. There were three of them and our colleague was badly wounded. Our situation looked bad. Apparently, one of gun-holding gangsters decided he wasn’t cut out for this. He started blabbering about what he had done, he didn’t want to do it anymore. He was a weak one. The other guys, they knew, so they decided to finish him off, right there and then……..
“Joey, don’t try it with us,” started one of the gangsters. “Don’t you dare move!” I yelled, getting angrier by the second. I was known in the force for my famous temper. “Oooh, I’m so scared of a girl cop! Leave it to the men, honey. Go home and do some sewing,” shouted out one of the mobsters. I was very tempted to kill them or in the very least shoot them in the foot, but there were other people here and this was a hostage situation, with other people in the restaurant. I then felt a hand on my shoulder and that was the ice cube that cooled me down. “Rochelle, it’s okay, I’ve called for backup.” Theo whispered.
Suddenly, there was a shattering of glass as bullets went through them and ricocheted off the walls. “Get down!” Theo yelled as he pushed me down by grabbing my head. I landed with a thud on the hardwood floor, but I didn’t care about that. All I saw was, my husband’s body lying lifelessly on the floor. It took me a few seconds to realize that the gangsters were gone. They had obviously had some help. But that didn’t matter.
What was more important was my husband. I started fearing the worst. “No, no, no, no, no, NO!” I started crying under my breath. I crawled over to Theo was. He was lying on his side and when I turned him over I could see a bullet through his throat. The worst sight in my life. Blood was turning into a pool around his head. His face was drained of colour and he just looked so….fragile. I started crying and saying things. Anything. Anything that came to my head. Even when the rest of the backup came, all they saw was my Theo’s dead body. And me, hovering over it, sobbing, dipping my hands in his blood.
“Aaah!” I cried as I walked into a banister. Up the banister led to our apartment. My apartment now. I walked up the stairs, as if my soul left my body and I was a zombie. I walked down the expensive corridor, shuffling my feet and closing my umbrella. I reached apartment 2020. I turned the key in the lock and I was faced with an empty apartment. I walked in and looked at all the photo frames of us. Our wedding day, our honeymoon, when we moved into the apartment and cleaned up the place, so on and so forth. I went into his study and lay on his couch just trying to get some sleep.
It was then that I had an epiphany. Why don’t I kill them? Why don’t I kill the people that killed my husband? It was only fair. I should be allowed to take my revenge. I should be. Something in me just snapped, I couldn’t bear it anymore. I am not going to take this lying down. They killed my husband. And the only person who saw their faces was Theo. I don’t care. I’ll kill all the gangsters in Manhattan. And anyone that gets in my way. I refused to take it lying down.
So that’s how I ended up here. In the nightclub with everyone dead around me. I’ve gone on a search around Manhattan and killed about 15 gangs and hundreds of innocents. And now I’ve found them. I’ve found the people that killed my husband. But I’m not going to stop. I’ve gotten a liking for killing. It’s a nice thing to do. So I’m going to continue. I’m going to kill the entire police force for taking away my badge. Unstable? Me? How am I unstable? I’m just taking the revenge that is rightfully mine. All this cause by one single murder. One single murder most foul.
The End
