Break Free & Be Broken (11 page)

I think of Her and all the horrors our relationship caused me. I think of all the time I spent crying in inconsolable anguish, just wishing for one more hug; all the times I had to take a jagged blade to my skin and gouge myself open, doing anything I could to distract myself from how badly I missed Her; and I think of how long I've spent miserable since...

But She wasn't wrong. Even if it was the most painful thing I've ever had to face, I've never blamed Her for her choice, and I won't start now.

"Because..." I sigh, finally seeing the message behind all that’s been said, "you shouldn't have to place another person’s happiness before your own."

The stranger pats me on the shoulder but says nothing. I let my head fall back against the headrest, struggling to find myself amongst the gory rubble where my beliefs once stood.

"Aren't you even a little afraid you might go to hell?" I ask.

"Hell?" He snorts. "Please. If there's a more ridiculous concept, I haven't heard it. Doling out
eternal
suffering for anything I might do in this short, uncertain life would be like torturing a child to death for pulling someone's hair. If there's a god, and he's really so petty that he would condemn a soul to such a lopsided punishment for going against his word, then I would feel nothing but honor that I angered such a pathetic, unjust character and laugh while I burn. Fuck any god that would create a hell. If such a place exists, I don't sin nearly enough."

A soft breath falls from my lungs. "You've put way too much thought into this."

"I kill people, friend. There's no such fucking thing."

"No fucking thing at all..."

“What?”

I don’t answer.

And so it goes for the thousandth time: I try to speak and only whisper.

Chapter the Seventh

"Turn here."

The words come so suddenly they cause me to jump. I have to slam on the brakes to make the turn.

"Jesus man! Some heads up would've been nice." I pout. The stranger ignores me.

"You can drop me off up by the fence there."

I nod my head, an uneasy feeling descending upon me. I hadn't really thought much about what I was going to do once I dropped him off. The conversation we had kept my mind plenty busy; now I've gotta deal with life. In a way, I almost don't want him to go.

I pull up near the fence and stop, contemplating why he possibly wanted to come here. There are some factory-looking buildings around, but they all have the appearance of being deserted for years.

The stranger shuffles in his seat, giving his hand access to his pocket, and pulls out a thick wad of cash. Damn. He ceremoniously opens it up and fans it. All I see are hundreds. I can't even guess how much money he's got.

I should rob him.

I marvel at myself for having such a thought. I've been in a rare form this evening. He pulls out two bills from the stack and passes them to me.

"Thanks." I mutter, trying not to stare at his cash, but failing. I notice him notice me eyeballing his wad. I quickly look away.

"You want more of this?" He asks.

"Huh?"

"Do you want more of this?"

"Uh, sure." Excitement brews inside me even though I know better. He's gotta be messing with me.

He grins. "Cool. I'll give you two thousand if you wait here for a bit and give me another ride. How's that sound?"

That sounds too good to be true! But that isn't what I say. Rather, I take a page out of Griff's book and feign indifference. "I dunno. I've got places to be."

His grin spreads wider. "Okay, well I like you so I'll tell you what. Here's two thousand for the lovely company you've provided." He throws a handful of money at me-it goes everywhere. "I've got to get moving. Waiting is a dead man’s game. If you're still here when I get back, I'll give you another two thousand." With that, he climbs from my car, slams the door, and takes off at a jog, quickly disappearing around one of the surrounding buildings.

I start gathering money from between the seats and off the floor with a smile in my heart. No situation looks quite as bleak when you're holding 22 hundred dollar bills in your hand with the promise of 20 more just on the horizon. He just paid for a couple months’ rent, or a whole new set of stuff, or more drugs than I can handle-whatever I want! Of course I’m going to sit here and wait! I got nowhere else to be, and 42 hundred dollars will put me back in business... at least for a while.

The events of the night aren't looking so bad anymore. The lady getting killed... that was awful... and I could very easily have criminal charges in my future for arson, but still... At least my problems don't have to start tonight. I can now delay the rougher aspects of my fate, and at a time like this, that is a serious blessing.

I wonder what that guy does to get him access to that kind of cash? Probably whatever the hell he wants. He's gotta be some kind of criminal... Oh shit.

I wonder what he's doing now.

Maybe waiting for him
isn't
a good idea. I might become an accomplice to a crime. In fact, I might already be one! I watched him kill that woman then drove him from the scene. I look over at the passenger side. There’s blood on the seat and carpet. Fuck. How can I explain that?

I can say he coerced me into doing this. Yes, yes, of course. I gotta calm down. I can very easily just say he coerced me. But could it really be that easy? I'm playing with fire here and I know it... but another two thousand would be so nice...

I'll give him two minutes. No way could he do anything that bad in two minutes.

Ten minutes later and here I am, bashing on myself for being trapped by the promise of money. The same thought keeps running through my head-he wouldn't be paying me so much if he wasn't doing something gnarly-yet still I wait. I tell myself it's because I really don't have anything better to do, spinning myself off as just a bored dude rather than a whore for cash, but I know the truth.

Another ten minutes pass, and now I'm legitimately getting bored. I'm not gunna wait around forever. I’ve grown more and more edgy as time passed by, making the promise of money sound less and less appealing; and on top of that, I have to pee. Okay, okay. So I'll get out, go pee, and if he isn't back by the time I'm done, then I really am going to leave. Mind (hopefully) made up, I get out of the car, release my wizard's staff, and get to work.

On the highway, I see a car approaching in the distance. Paranoia strikes. I just know that it’s coming here. It’s silly to assume such a thing-there are plenty of places people might be driving out here-but still... it feels like there's a tractor beam inside me pulling the car directly in. As the car gets closer to the turn, Dread's presence inside me grows. I dunno how I know, but it’s definitely coming. That's just the way this day's been going.

Sure enough, twenty feet out from the turn, the car's brake lights ignite, slowing it enough for a change in direction. Too late to run. Too late to hide. Without even the slightest clue of what to do, I just keep on peeing. It's simple, it's easy, and I had to do it anyway.

The car pulls onto the same dirt path I'm on. The lights fall upon me. All I do is turn away and finish up. The car stops not far from where I am. I put young Lewis back in his home and lean against my car, staring at this intruder. I can't see anything past the headlights, but still I stare, not wanting to seem suspicious. Why I don't consider staring at them suspicious I'll never know, but I'm doing it, so I keep doing it. The door opens and a shape gets out.

"Da fuck you doon here, mane?"

That voice! Straight from the deepest part of the hood. I'm shocked when the source walks in front of the lights and it's a white man, albeit the most thugged out white man I've ever seen. His outfit is so daffy he might as well be attending a costume party. Doo rag on top, a massive, massive tall tee that extends past his elbows and almost to his knees, and either shorts that are too long or long pants that are too short, resting just above his ankles. Dressed as he is, there will be no way to take him seriously.

"Pissing." I reply.

"Ya? Well you done now, so get da fuck outta here or I'll have ta bop ya."

Bop me? Is that a joke? I've been through far too much shit tonight to accept any more from this goof. I march up to him. He isn't very tall or well built, but there is something intimidating about him, like he's been in so many fights he no longer feels pain. Still, I think I can take him, and I commit to if he doesn't back the fuck down.

"Fuck you, you fucking clown! If you want me out of here, feel free to make me go."

He shoots me a nasty look but says nothing. I shove him, no longer content to play the victim. It’s my time to be the instigator. My ego still aches from the way the stranger manhandled me and I could use a release.

He falls back against the hood of his car, a genuine look of surprise animating his dull features. "Whoa mane, chill. You really wanna stay? Fine. Dat’s cool wit me." He gathers himself and starts moving toward his door. It occurs to me that I can't let him go. No doubt he's here for the same reason the stranger is, and if I let him go, he could mess everything up.

"Hold up!" I shout. He turns back toward me as I start to approach. "It's just that..." I don't know what to say. "Um... it’s just that, I was hoping to..." just one more steps and he's in range. "To uh..." I twist at the hip, unleashing a wicked right hook. He dodges it with ease. Apparently my assumption of his fighting experience was correct. This is no rookie on my hands.

He retaliates with a hook of his own. I block it with a stiff hand to his bicep. He immediately fires a jab with his other hand that lands right on my chin. It knocks my head back, but jacked up as I am by this wild keg of adrenaline, I barely feel it. I try throwing a one-two combo at him but he's too quick. He slips away from both and tags me with another stinger. This time I feel my brain rock in my skull. He's no Mike Tyson, but I still won't be able to take unlimited of these.

Since he's killing me on the feet, I decide to take things to the ground. I fake another hook. He dips left, just as before, giving me the opportunity to catch his leg. I take three solid shots to the back of the head in my effort to get him down, but the minute I'm on top of him I know it was worth it.

My assessment of his strength was true. He may be quick but he isn't strong, and now that I'm on top, there is little he can do against me. I transition easily into a mounted position and lay an elbow to rest square on the middle of his forehead. Blood releases on impact, dirtying both my elbow and his face. I cock back in preparation to administer another dose but he won't have it. With nothing else to do, he lifts up both arms to protect his head, so I throw a shot into his ribs instead.

For freedom, he bucks his hips and knocks me off balance, using the opportunity to squirm onto his side. I allow it to happen, hoping he will roll all the way to his belly and give me his back. I lift my weight, giving him space to complete his turn, and the instant he does I throw my forearm beneath his chin and lock him in a choke. He scratches at my arm as I compress his neck together but it's too little, too late. Not even a whisper of a gasp escapes his throat before I have it sealed completely shut.

The struggle before he passes out is so brief I feel inclined to hold the choke, thinking maybe he's faking to be released. I don't stop squeezing until the muscles in my arms burn and I'm sure he's asleep. When I let him go, he falls limp from my embrace. This is my first time choking someone out, and I have no idea how long he will be unconscious before coming to. Maybe I should stomp on his head or something to push him deeper into unconsciousness.

The gooey mess that was once a woman's skull flashes through my mind. Bleh. Definitely not going to be doing any stomping.

I sit back and stare, taking big, powerful breaths; reveling in my dominant victory. My power really came through for me this time! Look at that bitch, lying there, totally motionless as if...

As if he were dead.

I roll the guy over. It's hard to tell with this lighting, but his face may be a little blue. I stare at his chest. It isn’t moving. I put my hand over his heart. I can’t feel its beat. Shit. I didn't want to kill him.

I learned CPR once, way back in boy scouts... but I remember the basics: breaths and compressions. Maybe I can save this man. As I get into position, I take a look at his greasy mouth, and it's in this moment I know that I don't care
that
much about his life-there's no way I'm putting my mouth on his-but I suppose I should at least attempt to wake him.

I pull back my arm and dish out a mild slap to his face. "Yo, you okay?" I slap him again, harder this time. "Hey, wake up!" I give him two more slaps, both delivered with a heavy hand.

Nothing.

Panic starts scratching at my insides. God damnit. I don't want to be a killer
.
"WAKE UP!" I yell, and hammer my hand against his chest. His eyes shoot open. He takes in a giant gasp and looks up at me. I look down at him. He's going to scream.

I can't let him scream.

Quick as I can, I put one hand over his mouth and the other around his throat, locking his scream inside. The veins in his face become turgid as pressure builds from within. He stares at me with pleading eyes. 'Why are you doing this to me?' They seem to ask. 'This hurts. I don't want to die.' I look away, silencing the chatter. This time when he goes out, I'll let go immediately. I just need him to pass out.

A shout draws my attention away from the poor bastard in my grip. "What the hell are you doing? We've got to go!" I look up. The stranger is running toward me-fast- with a rifle in one hand and a duffle bag in the other. Fuck me. What did I get myself into? I let go of my victim, never checking back to see his state, and sprint to my car.

I reach it about the same time as the stranger. We jump in, and I start the panicked game of fumbling with my keys, trying to get my car started while in a frenzy. The stranger doesn't watch my silliness for more than a second before grabbing the keys from me and sticking them right into the ignition, bringing the car humming to life. I throw it in drive and start moving.

I whip around back toward the highway. Already I see the headlights from at least two vehicles bearing down on us from the direction the stranger came. I try not to think about it and just drive. I approach the turn to the highway at mach speeds. Relying on knowledge I've gained from video games, I'm pretty sure that if I just pull the handbrake before the turn, I should be able to drift around it without losing much speed.

I keep my foot on the gas, shooting toward the turn like a rocket. Twenty feet out, I put my hand on the e-brake, ready to pull. "What the hell are you doing?!" The stranger shouts. 'Saving our asses', is what I almost say, but the second I pull the brake and jerk the wheel I know that is not what I'm doing. 'I'm fucking us,' is what I should say.