A Certain Kind of Death

It didn't look good, they said. A lot of blood had been lost while they waited for the ambulance; another minute more and it would have been a dead on arrival case instead of the slim to none chances she faced now. He understood she was as good as dead, and that's all that mattered. In one night he had succeeded in destroying the only life he felt made his worth living. Another wave of tears washed over him as he leaned his forehead on the steering wheel of his car, hand gripped around the gun he had bought months before in case things got worse. And they did, didn't they?

He would take as many as he could with them, he had decided. There was a part of him that begged him not to perpetuate violence, but the part that wanted blood was stronger and louder. He'd collected the gun and now found himself in the shittiest part of town, bordering Newark, in the parking lot of Sammy's strip club. His white Cadillac gleamed under the morning sun; the sight of it enraged him, its perfect cleanliness, the ostentatiousness of it. Gerard did his last lines on the dashboard, welcoming the sudden rush of power that made him feel invincible. He had no recollection of walking into the dark ambient with it's mirror-covered walls, where only a woman in tiny shorts and tank top was wiping down the tables. Her name was Valentina, Sammy's girlfriend. She wore a bright shade of pink gloss on her lips that contrasted against her tanned skin, smiling as he approached her.

"I owe Sammy money," he told her. "I need to pay him."

"You need an appointment, honey. You can't just walk in there." He felt hollow and almost bored at having to go through this. Any other time he would have felt fear, would have hidden away like a coward. Today, he took Valentina by the arm and put a gun to her head.

"Just don't talk and you might make it," he warned her, registering her strong cotton candy perfume as he forced her to the back room where they operated out of. Sammy had gotten so cocky he didn't even have anyone guarding his door. Had it never occurred to him people could snap or did he believe fear would keep him safe? He threw open the door and pushed Valentina in; she tripped over her heels and fell on her hands and knees, shouting for Sammy, who hardly blinked. He sat at the table with three other men who froze.

"What're you doing, Way?" he asked calmly. It made Gerard see red as he took aim at Valentina's brunette head and pulled the trigger. Each second passed at a glacial pace, and he took in every detail of the blood spraying, her body dropping to the ground with a scarlet halo. He thought it would give him some sort of savage satisfaction to do it in front of Sammy, but he felt nothing as they yelled and pulled their guns on him.

He aimed again and shot at Sammy, but did not bother to cover himself as they shot back at him. His bullets hit their targets, and as he fell to his knees, he realized their's did, too. Pain exploded in his chest, his stomach, his arms. He felt the cold surface of the tile against his cheek, gurguling his last breaths.He could think of nothing; his mind raced with faces, places, voices, until it went dark and his heart stopped beating.

Notes