✨💥a peep into my latest story on #libri app. 💥✨✨
I didn't mean to end his life, I know it wasn't right. At first, I was mad, call it a psychological distortion. Yeah, it could happen to anyone who lost both parents overnight. But ending someone's life wouldn't heal the pain. And it didn't.
The screams and running of the crowd at Tina's Café were only from a distance to my ears. I looked wide-eyed as he struggled with his life and suddenly lay motionless on the cold floor already stained by his blood. The usual crowd of onlookers when it started as a heated argument, had scattered and run for their dear lives. And now one of them had called the cops.
The distant wailing of the siren brought me back to consciousness. I took a last glance at his body. The shock was still on his cold face as he stared into oblivion.
"What can I do?" Those words escaped my mouth, as I looked fearfully around in the now deserted Café. The sirens are getting closer. What should I do?
I didn't mean to hurt him, I didn't mean to. It all happened so fast. Started as a simple altercation, but now I'm forever stuck in the mess I've caused. I need to get out of sight. It is the only thing I could do if I don't want to end up behind bars. I should have hesitated. But now there's no turning back. I dropped the now heavy Glock on my hands as I heard wheels screeching up the driveway to the Café.
Running as fast as my feet could take me. I took each two steps at once and hurriedly got to the second floor. There should be an exit somewhere, I pulled up my hoodie to block my face from any security camera in the building. But is it necessary? Could I still be traced even if the cameras don't capture my face?
I ran back towards the stair as I remembered my fingerprints could still be used to trace me. I have almost gotten to the steps when the cops kicked the door open.
"NYPD!!!" Their voices stormed the empty cafe. I froze in place. They would catch me. They definitely would. But it can't be now. I need to get out of here as quickly as possible. I looked around as there was no exit in sight, only a window.
The cops are coming upstairs, it was as if my heartbeat increased with each step. (Yes a window!)
I moved further back as I charged forward towards the window. It's still closed but I only hope the glass would be fragile. Without hesitation, I jumped through the glass. Sharp piercing pain coursed through my body, majorly from my legs and my forearms.
"FREEZE!" The cops barked their usual arrest word. The loud shatter of the glass gave me away.
I could sense movement behind me as their flashlight flickered above. I landed rather roughly on the freshly mowed lawn behind the building and rolled off sight.
My right leg was heavy and my whole body hurts. But no, I can't give in to the pain. I half limped and ran until I reached the safe covering of the woods nearby.
I had no choice but to go back home before I figured out what to do next. But what if the cops beat me to it? Would I be walking into their clutches by going home?
The pain charging through my body increased as I could hear the loud beating of my heart. I admit to myself, I'm scared and needed to calm down. But I'm not seeing the use of calming down when the cops are after me. True they might not know who I am yet but they'd figure it out soon. I stopped behind a large tree to catch my breath.
The only thing I could do to help myself is to go as far as possible from here. I thought aloud. That's the only escape I could think of. I looked around the wood to ensure no one was following me and took off my hoodie, raised my arms to tighten my loose hair. I stopped my hands halfway up as serious pain flooded my arms.
(Oh no! Have I broken my arms? What should I do?)
I'm sure the pharmacy down 42nd Eastern would be closed by now. I shrugged off my hoodie and tightened it around my waist. I looked over my shoulders once more and stepped out into the dark alley that leads straight to my neighborhood. I limped down the alley supporting myself by leaning close to the wall. The sirens are still blaring from the Café, I could hear them loudly even from this far. Though I'm far from the Café, I kept looking back. Maybe to see if I was being followed, I don't know. But I kept doing it.
Relief washed through me, as I could see my house wasn't surrounded by cop cars yet. I quickly rushed through the entrance and for a moment relished the familiar calm and safety my house gives.
I rested my back on the door and sighed.
The image of that man flashed through my mind. Soaked in his blood, the fear in his eyes when I grabbed the gun and the eventual shock when I pulled the trigger. His empty eyes looked up into nothing. Was that how it is to die?
(Wait death? I killed him! My God, what's wrong with me?! )
I moved from the door, and struggled with my leg, now heavy. I dragged myself down to the kitchen and picked up the car key on the table. I caught a glance at a picture frame. It was the one I took with them when I graduated from high school. Sharp pain rushed through my arm as I stretched forward to take the picture.
There should be a first aid box somewhere. I grabbed the first aid box, a little red plastic bucket with a white cross on the cover. And made to go out into the living room when I heard a knock on the front door. I froze on the spot. The knock came again, but louder this time.
Whoever it was, I wasn't going to open that door, and I'm not staying in. I turned back and got out through the kitchen door.
Jumping into my car I turned the ignition and my car jerked to life.
I remember he's in town. He was the only one I could run to at the moment. Before a second thought, (I don't remember I have one), I sped off into the darkness.
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