Disturbia (The 13th)

by Tabatha Manuel

  Before Sal could even finish his sentence, “I'm gonna kill you, you fucking son of a......,” security had him in a tight choke hold and yanked him through the door, down the hall, before exiting him out the back and tossing him in the alley near the dumpster. His co-workers looked on in pity at the person they once called friend only to quickly return to their post on the line before the same thing happened to them.

  ***

  Sal face down in the dirt slowly rose to his feet. Instantly, the sweltering heat stung his skin. His lungs struggled to take in the toxic dry air. There was nothing fresh about it. The smell of the dumpster filled him and almost made him choke. Wondering if a dead body was hidden somewhere in there, he thought that this must be how the devil's playground smelled. He was still halfway in a daze, angry, and still not completely comprehending what had just happened. Was he really just fired? Had his unemployment account really run out? What does he have to fall back on? Unfortunately, he already knew the answer to those questions – Yes, Yes, and Nothing. He had absolutely nothing. His mind shifted to a time when everything was handed to him. His job, his paycheck, his home cooked meals that awaited his arrival from work, and his naked wife in his bed waiting for him to release the stresses of the day into her soft, sensual body. As he dusted off his pants and took one step forward all he could think of was taking a cold sip of straight up vodka. How sweet it would be. Bitter to taste, but sweet to his soul. The burn would soothe his pain and cover up what was inside of him. Which was nothing. Nothing loving or tangible was left in him. Just hollow. Dark and hollow.

  “Hey what the fuck you doing?” Sal cried as he rushed towards the tow truck that was pulling his car away.

  “Sir, back away. Back away before I call the cops,” the man in a yellow shirt with a name tag glued to it that read Dale said. He tossed some papers in Sal's direction and then hurried behind the wheel, skirting off while Sal stood there yelling obscenities and making wild gestures.

  It was no secret to him that he had lost. But now it seemed like he had lost absolutely everything. He blamed the divorce and his ex-wife for ruing everything, even his credit. Even though his old Lincoln wasn't worth a piece of shit anyways, the only way he could have a set of wheels was to get a high interest loan with a car that had a device that would disable it and have it repo'd if payments were late. He figured that he could go a couple more weeks before making a payment before the device would trigger. He figured wrong.

  He started to walk. Water built up in his eyes, but he refused to let it fall. He couldn't get a handle on his emotions. He didn't quite know if he was mad or sad. If he felt anger or remorse. The only thing in that moment that he knew for sure was that he needed a drink, and fast. Sal let out a slight giggle. Even with all that had happened, he was grateful that he was only blocks from home and wouldn't have to walk far. He let out an even bigger laugh when he remembered what day it was. Friday the 13th. What a day? And what a day it's turning out to be. Straight from hell and out of a damn horror flick, he said to himself.

  ***

  Miguel stood behind the register waiting on the kids to finish walking up and down the aisles. He knew they were waiting on him to take his eyes off of them so that they could sneak stuff in their pockets. He was up to it, and was just playing along with their little game.

  “Man let's go,” the brown boy with a low faded haircut said as he bounced a black basketball. His friend followed behind him and within seconds they both had approached the counter and were standing in front of Miguel with chips and pop.

  “This is it?” Miguel asked.

  “Hey man, what is this?” the boy turned to his friend and asked.

  “I don't know, it's only 99 cents. Grab some.”

  “Awww man, this that new Kush.” They both laughed.

  “Aye man, you can get high off this. My brother's friend use this, he said it's better than the real stuff,” the boy said as he picked up the small red and black package.

  “Word,” his friend responded.

  Miguel rung up their small purchase that came to three dollars total. He was happy. The candy had been a hit all day with kids coming in and out steady for hours picking up the stuff. He wished he knew who had delivered it – that way he could not only thank them but order some more. This could be just what the store, and him for that matter, needed to get up from under water and start making a profit. After the kids had left, he checked the register's balance. He had already made more than he made for the entire day yesterday. A huge stretched smile covered his face and he did the math in his head.

  Finally, Sal reached Lucky's Beer and Wine. By now, he was drenched in sweat, his mouth was dry, and all he could think of was why the damn heat hadn't let up yet seeing as though the day was winding down and it was now late evening. He had held his head down the entire walk home. The anger had melted away and depression replaced it. And that feeling was the worse of all. The depression left an empty yearning in his stomach that tingled. It made him feel like he had to piss, release his bowels and puke all at the same time. But he knew just what he needed to make it better. As he walked through the glass door, two teenagers, one bouncing a basketball, almost knocked him over.

  “Watch it old man,” the kid said. Sal gave him a hard stare. Old man, he thought. At 32, he hardly considered himself old, but then again he thought back to when he was that age and he would have thought he was old too.

  He brushed pass them and vowed to dismiss the irritation from his mind. Enough had happened today and he was just ready to pour, drink, and relax. Nothing could be better.

  He grabbed a Budweiser from the glass fridge in the back and approached the register.

  “Your usual Sal?” Miguel asked.

  Before he could answer, two giggling girls who had to be no older than 16 ran into the store, bumped into Sal almost knocking the beer out of his hand, and dug into the bin with the new candy Miguel had put on display. They grabbed a handful and then threw a ten dollar bill on the counter at Miguel. Just as quickly as they appeared, they disappeared. For the second time within minutes, some annoying teenagers were interrupting Sal and invoking unnecessary irritation into his so-called life. He let out a loud puff of air.

  “Silly kids,” Miguel said. He turned around to the back wall and pulled off five bottles of Jack Daniels and placed them in front of Sal. “You see what I have to go through.” He shook his head and let out a deep breath with a brief chuckle. “I can't wait until school starts back. Give these little rug rats something to do.”

  “Yea,” Sal mumbled and then tossed a twenty on the counter. After Miguel handed him his change, Sal grabbed his brown paper bag full of toxins and proceeded towards the exit. “Hey they dropped this,” he said as he bent down and picked up the small red package with black stripes.

  “Keep it,” Miguel yelled. “I've got plenty.”

  Sal tossed it in his pocket and left out.

  ***

  The feeling overtook him. His tiny box of an apartment suddenly became his old, comfy home in the suburbs of Detroit with plush carpet and soft pillows pushed against his back in his favorite lounge chair that he called his throne. He was back at home and once again king of the castle. Well at least he was in his mind. His imagination was, after all, one of the few things he had left. After his fourth bottle of Jack Daniels, he could make-believe whatever he wanted into whatever he wanted. Sal could take a snake and turn it into a princess or take dirt and transform it into the rainbow. That's the beauty of it all – how it takes over your mind and makes the ugly beautiful and the sad, happy again. Oh what a life. The only problem now, which seemed larger than life, was that he couldn't sleep. He had all the liquor his bloated stomach could handle. He hadn't eaten all day, not because he didn't want to, but because he couldn't afford to, and he had now become nauseous. The only way to combat that feeling was to call it a night. He tried watching TV; he even put on a little porn and beat the old lizard a few times. But still...that didn't do the trick
. He was sleepy, but every time he closed his eyes he saw her face. Susan. Her baby smooth skin and rosy cheeks would put pop into his mind so vividly that it was almost like he could reach out and kiss her.

  ***

  After pacing around a few times, staring out the window, and then finally giving in to downing another Jack Daniels, he went to the kitchen cabinet and pulled out the bottle. He only had two left and he figured he might as well put them to good use. With the last swig in the bottle, he felt the Vicodin slide down his throat. He hoped they would do the trick and put him in a deep sleep similar to what a newborn baby experiences. He craved it. He had done all he could for the day. And was ready to call it quits. But to his dismay, that didn't work either. After tossing and turning he got back up. All the liquor is gone, the pills are gone. What the fuck am I going to do? He grabbed the paper brown bag he brought home from Lucky's Beer & Wine. Even though he knew everything was gone, he still searched. Searched for anything. Oh yea. He remembered. The candy. He pulled it out of his pocket and read the back. The number six painted on the front of it caught his eye and he remembered hearing something about this stuff on the Internet awhile back. It's like synthetic marijuana. Why the hell not, he thought. After all, he deserved it. He didn't have a lighter though. That was one of the things he didn't do. Smoke. And the only reason is because he had asthma, otherwise that would have been on his list of drugs to try also. His life was already over, why not just live it up and try whatever piece of heaven he could for the time being. He poured the mixture that resembled potpourri in his hand. It had multiple colors – red, orange, yellow. But it was mostly green. He licked it off of his hands and let it dissolve in his mouth. It had a bitter taste, almost like a lemon.

  ***

  Resting his head on the wall behind his cot, he outstretched his legs. The brown sheets that use to be white were bunched at his feet. Night had fallen. His eyes geared towards the window and up to the stars. He closed his eyes and wished he could turn back the hands of time. Wished he could be a better husband. A better employee. A better human being in general. Oh how he wished as his conscious escaped him.

  ***

  The loud sound of his cell broke through his slumber as he felt around in the dark for his pants. Who the hell could it be this late, he thought to himself.

  “Yea,” he grumbled.

  “Sal...Sal, it's me,” the soft voice said. “I just wanted to check on you, I've been a little worried about you.”

  “What do you want Susan?” he asked.

  “I just wanted to check on you, that's all.”

  “You want to know how I'm doing.” By now he's sitting up with his legs hanging over the side of the cot. His elbow on one knee and his other hand holding the phone to his ear. “I'm fucked. I'm miserable, is that what you want to hear?”

  “No...no, it's not. I want the best for you Sal; I want you to be happy...”

  He moved the phone to the front of his face and close to his mouth. “Then why the fuck you leave me you fucking cunt,” he yelled into the phone and then threw it on the floor. He jumped up and went to the window as he stared out of it while rubbing his forehead, trying to clear away the confusion.

  He didn't feel like himself. Something...something had changed.

  “Hey Sal...don't worry. It's okay.”

  “Hey who said that,” Sal said. He quickly turned around and scanned the room. Nothing.

  “It's me,” the voice said. It was casual. Cool. It almost sounded like his own, but just a little more mature and calm.

  “Okay, okay...I just need to sit down and relax,” he said to himself. He sat back down on the cot.

  “Hey if I was you, I'd just off the bitch. Hey I would off all of them.”

  “Whew,” Sal yelled as he jumped up from the cot, switched on the lights and then backed himself up against the wall. He was scared shitless. Who the hell was in his apartment? Who was it? In only a couple of seconds his eyes had roamed the entire studio. It was so small that he could do a thorough search without even moving an inch. Under the cot, he quickly thought.

  “Okay, you son of a bitch,” he yelled as he dropped to the floor and searched under the cot.

  “Oh get up dumb ass. I'm not under there.”

  Sal leaped to his toes unable to catch his breath. Fear had taken over him like never before. He had never feared anything in his entire life, except loneliness, and since he already had that...nothing else could give him goose bumps.

  “I'm your imaginary friend goof troop. I'm in your head, there's no escaping me. There's no finding me under the cot. I'm the boogeyman that's already got you. I'm a part of you. Hey, you want your life back? Well do you?”

  Sal stood in the middle of the room feeling like the whole universe was circling him. It spun around him like a tornado and he was the only thing on the planet standing still. Everything else was moving a mile a minute. Then suddenly...everything went blank. Darkness approached. Sal dropped to his knees.

  “Answer me dumb ass,” the voice demanded. “Now.”

  Out of nowhere a red light illuminated the room. Blood red.

  Sal rapidly turned his heard from left to right, searching for any sanity that might still be left in him. Was he dreaming? What was going on in his head? He could feel his heart racing, his skin burning, and his chest jumping up and down rapidly. Suddenly, a push on his back forced him to yell out, “Yes, yes, yes I want my life back.” A flood of tears burst through his eyes and he buried his face in his hands as he curled up his knees on the floor holding himself like a little boy scared of the dark.

  Make them pay. Make them pay. Make them pay,” the voice repeated. It played over and over in Sal's head like a skipping CD on auto play.

  “Who...who...who,” Sal said while sniffling and wiping away his tears.

  “Well let's see. Everyone who's hurt you. First let's start with that bastard of a boss, Raymond. That son of a bitch didn't have to fire you. Oh...and what about your landlord. That son of a bitch knows your situation. He knows it's hard out here; the economy is fucked. He's being so fucking hard on you for no reason. Fat bastard.” Silence. The voice went mute. Sal looked around. Maybe it stopped. Maybe it's gone. Oh thank you, thank you.

  “Awwww and last, but not least, Susan. That bitch is the start of all of this. She must go Sal. You must get rid of her so that you can move on with your life. She'll be okay. She'll go to heaven. You'll be doing her a favor. Make her pay for what she's done to you.”

  All of a sudden the lights turned on. He looked down to see his keys that out of no where had suddenly appeared in his hands.

  “Go, he’s working late tonight. You know he's there.”

  ***

  Raymond was tucked away in his back office with his heels kicked up on the desk. He had one of his workers pulled from the line to come in and clean up the mess Sal made earlier. Marcus, the new guy to join his team, had tidied up better than he had seen it since he moved into the small enclosed area two years ago when he was promoted to line supervisor. It was his late night. And also his time to relax. Working late meant that everyone had settled down from the busy day and just wanted to concentrate on finishing up the day's work. He had little supervising to do, so he kicked back with his door shut and a Playboy in his hand to get the blood flowing. Awww Miss July. She has the best tits in the business.

  As he crept around the corner from the back entrance, Sal could hear Bob, the night shift security guard, snoring loud as a firecracker. He wondered how in the hell Bob managed to keep a wife for 25 years sounding like a damn grizzly bear and he couldn't even keep one for five years and he slept as quiet as a mouse. Life just isn't fair, he thought. But it was about to be. Everything was about to be alright. He was grateful that he still had his extra key card to enter into the warehouse. It was still in his back pocket.

  “You know the way,” the voice said.

  “Yea, I know the got damn way,” Sal grunted. Oh Shit. Before he could stop the words from le
aving his mouth, Sal heard the security guard make a loud snorkeling sound and then saw him turn to the opposite side in his chair. Sal didn't move an inch in fear that he was waking up. He didn't mean to talk out loud. He was getting his thoughts confused with speaking. He stared at the guard.

  “Kill him too if he wakes. If he sees you then bite out his eyeballs,” it said. “They're tasty by the way. And besides you haven't eaten anything all day. I know you're hungry. Wouldn't a nice bowl of flesh taste good right now.”

  On alert and ready, he was unexpectedly unalarmed. The security guard's eyes remained closed as he scratched his forearm and then settled back into a carefree slumber.

  Lucky son of a bitch, Sal thought. Out of no where, the sound of loud heavy metal started blasting. This was odd because they were not allowed to have even the slightest bit of entertainment on the premises while working. Even cell phones had to be on silent. The only outlet to the outside world was the old TV mounted on the wall above the line.