by Luis Samways
He hits me hard in the ribs. Turns out he’s good at knee lifts, as I find out when I hit the floor in pain. Man, it feels as if someone has driven out all the air from my lungs and replaced it with hot lava as I struggle to breathe face down in the carpet. I’m so close to the floor that I can actually smell the carpet freshener that was freshly put on in the last couple of days. Hmm, lemon fresh, I think to myself. I struggle to look up as I see his feet towering over me, taking steps backward and forward as a child would do when needing to go to the bathroom. I hear Dwaine get up from beside me. I dread to think what will happen as I shut my eyes tightly. I hear a loud pop. As I regain the courage to open my eyes, I see Dwaine holding his nose. Looks like he just got socked in the face. I get up, using all the strength I can muster, and make eye contact with Seth. He looks on in an enraged state. He grabs me by the collar again.
“You want to die tonight, Toby?” he screams.
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
Suddenly my vision slows down as I see Seth’s head lean forward at high speed. The force of the head butt knocks me out. Everything goes dark.
Eighteen
End Game
I finally come to. The ceiling looks dirty as I blink a few times. I can practically hear the dryness in my eyes as my eyelids struggle to unstick. It’s extremely hot. I grab at my face and feel the cold blood. I shoot up as I recall the situation that led to this. The silence in the room is deafening as I look around. No one is in the living room. The huge TV that I was admiring before is now broken and cracked. I get up and steady myself. There’s a strange smell in the room, an odor of absence. I turn around and make my way to the hallway. The stairs that lead upstairs look disturbed. Not in the sense that there are chunks missing out of them (Seth’s parents never got to fixing them, I guess), but the scattered clothing on the banister looks out of place. I don’t remember any clothes being on the stairs when I entered. The kitchen to my right catches my attention. The lighting from the bulbs in the kitchen is flickering like candles in a church. I notice the sparse light escaping from a crack in the door. That, too, wasn’t there before. My heart starts to race. Something just doesn’t feel right as I make my way to the kitchen door like a moth to a light source. I feel powerless but determined to find out what’s going on. If only I’d just walked out of the house, I wouldn’t be talking to you now.
I reach the door and touch the handle. I can just about see the tile floor through the inch-wide crack.
“Hello?” I say as I slowly open the door. The scene is one I wish I’d never witnessed. I have heard my dad spout about how he wished sometimes he wasn’t a court bailiff because he would have to hear about the crimes that the defendants committed while he was ensuring their stay in the courthouse. Well, I kind of feel the same way in this situation. If only I weren’t Seth’s “friend,” then I wouldn’t be witnessing this.
I walk in and see Dwaine sitting down with his face resting on the dining table. His body looks relaxed enough, as if he’s fast asleep across the hardwood dining surface, but the blood dripping from the table to the floor gives it away. As soon as I see that, I know he’s dead — that, and the knife in his head. I dart my eyes to the right and see that the door leading to the garden is wide open. I slowly make my way over to the door. Its fresh breeze hits me like a ton of bricks. I flick the switch next to the frame. It lights up the garden. I see Mike and Rocco on the garden chairs with beers in their hands. Their grips are tight around the Budweisers as I step in closer. The light from the kitchen escapes my back and lights up Mike’s and Rocco’s faces. I stop in terror as I see what stands before me. Both Mike’s and Rocco’s necks are slashed open. I can see the sheen of their spinal columns as they penetrate through their severed skin. I puke — granted, I’m a bit fucking shocked.
I rush back into the kitchen and grab one of the idle knives stuck into the knife block. It’s the biggest one in the kitchen; it glistens in the strobe lighting as I exit the kitchen and rush to the stairs. I take one step forward on the creaky stair and then hear a scream. It sounds like Elle. My immediate response is to rush up and follow the screams. I do. I clear the thirty-odd steps in what I imagine to be record time. I reach the landing and see Seth’s door. I fling myself into it and crash through the other side. I see Seth on top of Elle, who’s crying into a pillow. He quickly turns his head and sees me. He reaches for the revolver on the bedside table. He gets off her and faces me, his back to the wall. He stands twenty feet away from me, but it feels as if he’s right in my ear; the pure sight of him and what he’s doing to her makes me angry. I grip my knife’s handle tightly as he stares a hole into me.
“Looks like you brought a knife to a gunfight…amigo,” he says.
I grip my knife even harder and walk forward. My strides hit the floor in his room like loud thumps of a war drum; each step I take is a step closer to battle. He gives me a sadistic smile as he unclips the revolver and spins the chamber. He quickly snaps it back in and raises the gun toward me as I come within arm’s length. The steel cold hits my skull and sends a nervous tingle down my spine. He laughs.
“There’s only one in the chamber, Toby. Six to one odds of you dying. Even those odds make me happy. Ever since you came into my life, you’ve been nothing but a burden. I lost three good years of my life in high school because I was hanging around with you, and now this? Now you take my girl! Elle is mine, Toby, you know that. You know I get what I want, and you know I want Elle. So tell this dumb bitch that if she doesn’t do as I say, it’s nighty-night for her.”
“Fuck you, Seth — she’s my girl. I love her!” I shout as I grip my knife tighter. He pulls the trigger; nothing comes out.
“Lucky boy!” He laughs.
He pulls the trigger again. Still no bullet.
“Ooh, four to one now.”
Elle starts screaming as he pulls it again. This time I close my eyes, expecting the worst, but still no bullet. With my eyes shut, I grip the handle of the knife even harder.
“Three to one.”
He pulls again; no bullet. I swing the knife and hit his side. The knife goes in like butter, and he lets out a scream. He drops the gun as I open my eyes. I quickly bend down and pick up the revolver. He looks at me from the floor with scared eyes.
“You fucking stabbed me!” he screams.
“What about Mike, Rocco, and Dwaine? You stabbed them, you sick bastard!”
“They got in the way,” he says calmly.
“Well, so have you…. Two to one odds, Seth — how do you like those odds?”
“I’m feeling flustered. I don’t want to play this game anymore,” Seth says as he tries to regain his escaping breath.
“Two to one,” I say as I squeeze the trigger. The revolver bounces and fires. A loud thumping sound bellows through the room as Seth’s head snaps back and explodes. Elle screams as she is splattered with blood.
The next thing I know, I’m down here. Like I said before, I didn’t mean to kill him. He threatened me with the gun and pulled the trigger four times. What was I supposed to do?
Officer Mullins looks at Frank McKenzie, who then looks at Toby, who’s handcuffed to the table. The interview room lights echo off Toby’s sleek brow as sweat streams down his face.
“Self-defense?” asks Frank
“From what I saw when I stopped you guys before this shit went down, it seems like you already knew about the weapon. That alone is a felony crime. But from how you described it, Toby, the prosecution could lean towards self-defense for the knife wounds Seth received, but as for the gunshot wound to the head, that was cold-blooded murder. I’m sorry, kid — you made a bad decision. That one bullet has cost you the rest of your life, no matter how many people Seth took with him before you fired that gun. It won’t bring your friends back, nor will it give you and Elle the life that you want. I’m afraid I’ll have to charge you with murder.”
Frank gets up and grabs the paperwork on the desk. He sees the tears in Toby
’s eyes as he realizes the consequences of his actions. Mullins and McKenzie make their way out of the interrogation room and shut the door behind them.
“Poor kid,” says Frank sympathetically.
“Be that as it may, sir, he still killed someone. He stuck the dude with a knife. If he’d just let him be, the paramedics said he would have bled out. Either way, though, he shot Seth in the head. End of story.”
“Still, the guy was trying to get it on with his girlfriend.”
“She isn’t the dead one, though.”
“It’s just sad, that’s all.”
“Why?”
“Because I would’ve done the exact same thing,” says Frank.
“Yeah…I know. But you’re a whole different kettle of fish, my friend.”
“How?” asks Frank.
“You don’t get caught.”
Another Author’s note:
Whew! That was a lot of reading there! Thank you for getting through it all, and I really hope you enjoyed it. Please feel free to leave a review stating how much you loved it (hopefully) or hated it (that would make me a sad panda).
I appreciate all of your support and hope to see you here soon, for another one of my stories! In the meantime, please feel free to visit my website if you want to keep in touch and see what’s around the corner.
http://www.luissamways.com/
I hope you had a rocking time! Peace out and happy reading!
Luis Samways.
A smiley face, all for you!