May 5, 2017

I’ve Got a Life Sentence

“Do you regret what you’ve done?”
“Regret? Certainly not. You’ve seemed to dismiss me as a man lacking passion. All I have is passion.”
“I think we’re done here.” A detective mutters as he backs away from a smoky semi lit interrogation room table, “actually, I have one more question. Did you love her?”
“Yes I do.”
“You mean you did, before you killed her,” acknowledges the detective as he shakes his head.
“I mean I will always love her.” The dim lighting in the room slips slowly towards the face of the unknown man replying to the detective, revealing a scarred and burdened soul seeping through the eyes of the suspect.
Begrudgingly the detective steps back, unsure of how to respond.

I’m a fuck up. My name’s Turell Austin, I’m 22 years old, and I was living my life just fine when I decided to do something about it. I guess you’d like a little back story, so take what you’d like. When I was 9 years old I got sent to a juvenile court for beating the shit out of this black kid who ran his mouth too much about where I sat in class. Nearly killed him. When I was 14 I got brought home at 2:14 AM by the local police of Austin, Texas, where I live, for stealing a 1964 Chevrolet Chevelle Malibu Super Sport, a real nice whip, clean too. Lastly, on the night of my 18th birthday I got my first gun, and my first bit of jail time. I got off easy though, first offenders and all.

My parents weren’t around much as a kid, I was kind of left to fend for my own really. Mom liked to drink, dad liked to fuck prostitutes and shoot up. All three of those things together makes a good night for me. Life was a little hard though, collecting empty beer cans from around the house to turn in for 5 cents a pop, sometimes I was lucky enough to eat a meal every day, other times I had to get what I could how I could. Didn’t take long for me to realize the best way to survive was to act cute when I needed to and stash an iPhone 4 in my pants when nobody was watching the little 12 year old at the Best Buy Geek Squad window. Thank god for ignorance.

Enough of the bullshit though, you’re probably wondering why the fuck you’re reading this, right? So skip ahead a few pointless years and here I am, 2015. I was lifting some new tech off the truck right in front of Fry’s Electronics. I like that place, everyone who works there wears regular clothing no passersby asked any questions, and I got out of there faster than a cop could chase a donut half the time. So, I’m ripping this new computer graphic card thing out of a box when I seen this beauty like no other, I’m talking ten of ten banger. Blonde hair down to her ass, big bodacious eyes that screamed innocent, and going back to her ass, that was to die for. Pun intended.

I guess you could say I was a little distracted, because the next thing I knew I felt a hand yanking my wrist back, almost snapping it. Some big bean burrito type guy standing behind me looked like he didn’t want to have to chase after me, and if I would’ve tried making him, he would have stepped on me. So I got busted, pretty hard too. He took a look at my hand and gave me a shot to the ear that’d make Mike Tyson cry, right in front of Blondie. No big deal though, I’d take some free meals and a bed in the slammer for a month and be alright.

A month later I get out and felt like a million bucks. A changed man, if you will. I took a few steps out the door, found myself a couple blocks in the city and a sweet old lady who’s purse just needed to be in my possession. Now that I had a little spending cash and a few credit cards I went on over to the Motel 6 on Third Street and checked in, then went to grab a bite to eat. I’m sitting in this cute little diner, something out of the fifties, all sorts of metal signs on the wall with classic cars, booths with red vinyl and white tables, metal bar stools, tiny juke boxes on the tables, not a bad place for a guy like me. Low and behold who comes to fill my order? Blondie.
“Hey how you doin?” I asked while giving her my most charming smile.
“Well I’m just peachy-keen, thanks for asking! What might I do for ya tonight?” She said with a bouncy perky tone to her voice.
“Well it’s not what you can do, it’s how long you can do it!” I let out a little chuckle as I heckled her kindly.
“What do you mean? Our chef is pretty quick, and if you take a look at our specials we’ve got a lot of things that can be made to order pronto! We’ve got avocado burgers, buffalo wings, jalepeno cheese bite–” she stopped talking when she recognized me. “I know you from somewhere don’t I?”
“Yeah, I’m the guy that got the shit knocked out of him a few weeks back at Fry’s, you remember?”
“Oh, yeah. Are you okay by the way? I hope that guy got thrown in jail for hitting you like that! I would’ve stayed as a witness for you but–”
“Doll, it’s okay. I lost my job, but hey, I stopped him from stealing from the store so, at least I maintained some integrity.” I grinned a little as I lied through my teeth.
“Well, I hope everything turns out alright for you.” She smiled with the cutest dimples I ever saw as she said it. “So what’ll you have?”
“Honestly, just some fries, if you’ll sit and eat em with me.”
“I-… Well I’m on duty you know, I don’t know if my manager–”
“It’s okay, I just want someone to talk to.” I said as I slid over to make room for her on my side of the booth.

We ended up talking till about three AM that night. Long after closing. I remember her turning to wave goodbye to her co-worker as the clock struck two, she had the sweetest way of turning her head to say “see ya tomorrow”. I ended up asking if she wanted to come by my place for a drink, she declined. They always decline.

I walked home around four thirty after stopping off at the liquor store for a handle of Jack on that old lady’s dime. Who would have thought a sweet old lady would have a drinking problem? I passed out somewhere in front of the motel I was staying at only to be awoken the next morning by some angry Chinese guy telling me I’m making his place look like a rat hole. I told him that it’s fitting since all he eats is cats and went back to my motel room until later that evening. I knew I was only going to be able to run this chicks card up so far before ditching it and that the cash would only get me by for another night or two, so I went by an old friend’s house to pick up a loaner. He hooked me up sweet too, a mint condition Glock 22 with a full box of .40 cal ammo. I thanked him as I took off back towards what I was calling home at the time, the Motel 6. I stopped off at the liquor store to give the puppy a little test run though, got myself a good chunk of cash and a few free bottles of booze.

After I had some drink for a while I got to thinkin, “who the fuck is that girl… what’s her name? And why wouldn’t she come over for a drink?” I knew I had to go talk to her. So at about 10:30 at night I decided I may as well just walk a few miles on over to the diner I visited last night. I got there and went inside, took the same seat as the previous night, and to my dismay, was greeted by some teenage girl who looked as confused about what to say while on the job as I was about the whereabouts of the girl I was there to see. I said where’s the pretty girl but she didn’t know who I was talking about, which honestly just pissed me off. I stood up and walked over to sit at a bar stool and survey the place, hoping to find her. Unfortunately for the diner, she wasn’t there. I figured I had may as well make good use of my time here, and walked over to the teenage girl who was now behind the cash register at the bar, reached into my pants and ripped out my pistol, quietly aiming it at her chest, I told her, “Shhh, don’t make a sound. Just open the register and you’ll be fine.”

Surprisingly she seemed willing to do it, and even if she hadn’t there was only 4 other patrons in the restaurant as well as a cook in back, not that hard of a situation to get under control. She began taking the money out of the register and placing it on the bar, which I guess was pretty smart on her part, since the security camera I had just noticed began moving behind her to look at the money. Like thunder a man came from the door behind her wearing a white tucked in shirt and a tie, already yelling about the malpractice of her money handling skills. As he walked out of the door he was in clear view of my weapon, so I raised it to him and shot him in the head. The girl screamed, I shot her too, only I guess I panicked a little because my bullet went through her throat, causing a big mess of blood to start spilling out, and I remember in the moment I felt a little bad about making her suffer so I quickly fired another shot into her head as she fell back into the wall.
At this time the patrons freaked out, everyone stood up and started screaming, the chef from the bar window peaked his head through, I leaned over the bar and shot him too, which left his corpse falling forward knocking over a bunch of plates of food that was ready to be served, such a waste. Now I figured things were getting out of hand, I’ve got three dead people and four people freaking the fuck out, I yelled “Everyone lay on the ground!”

They obliged of course, and I carefully made my way around the bar, collecting the money off of the floor which had now become blood soaked. I reached into the teenagers pocket, took her wallet out and held it up. She was only sixteen, but she was carrying her daddy’s credit card. The manager, Tom Feldman seemed like a fairly decent enough guy. His wallet had a bunch of pictures of his kids, his wife, and an old picture of his mother that fell out when I opened it. He didn’t have but five dollars in his cash pocket, probably because later I’d learn that his daughter had autism and he’d spent all of his savings, including the stores monthly profit to pay for her private schooling. The chef had a joint and sixty five bucks in his, no pictures, no cards. You can tell a lot about a person by what’s in their wallet. I decided to keep the chefs.

I nodded to the patrons as I began walking towards the door, figured I’d put them through enough, I didn’t need to steal their money too, why get greedy when the heat is on, yknow. A moment before I reached the doorway however, I saw the ole blue and red lights scream into the parking lot. Angrily I looked at the patrons, one of which was a bitchy looking eighteen year old hipster with a cell phone in his back pocket. Immediately I knew he was the scum bag who tipped them off. The cops in Austin apparently didn’t think about the hostages, because they just came running straight up to the door yelling commands at me. I did the only thing I could do, which was to jump over to the little hipster shit and shove my gone in his mouth. I let the police know that they needed to back up or the kid would take the heat, literally. However, one patron, the boys father, got bold and decided that while I was shouting at the police he’d attempt to save the day by stabbing me in the back with his steak knife. There was so much adrenaline pumping through me though, it didn’t slow me down and I only saw red. I squeezed the trigger and shot the boys head, splattering pieces of his brains all over the other patrons. Then as I turned the gun on the father, funny enough I noticed a little tear starting to form in his eye, but I shot him in the head before it could welter large enough to fall out. I figured I’d come this far, so I shot the other two patrons as I crawled back and made my way while prone into the kitchen. Once I cleared the doorway I could hear the cops begin moving in, they were already firing their guns by the way, which is against protocol or something but at this point it was war. Me against law. I ran to the back store room and ripped the door open. To my surprise somebody was inside, looking as right as rain, it was Blondie.

I smiled and waved hello, God I must have looked like such an idiot what with seven different peoples blood on my hands. I ran over to her and told her it was never supposed to happen like this. I told her that I really cared about her, and that she was perfect to me, in every way. I held her from behind the way you hold a girlfriend or boyfriend right before they ship out to basic training. I told her I’m sorry and that I’d see her again.

The cops ripped open the door to the room to see me behind her with the gun up to her head, my head sitting just on the side of hers. I told them that either they could shoot me, or I’d shoot us. The officer shouted something at me, but to be honest there was so much going on in my heart I didn’t even listen to him. All I could think of was how I was supposed to marry Blondie. My sweet Blondie. I never even knew her name. Decidedly, I squeezed the trigger on a moment’s notice, and just before I felt the bullet pierce my skin, I could feel the life leave hers.

Everything was black.
Everything was black, like death. Was this death? Is this what our worlds leading scientists had spent so long to discover? Black?! I felt scammed. There was no divineness revealing itself to me, no lights, no universal understanding, no immense freedom or visions, just black. I felt revered towards the black.
Everything was black for a long time, until I woke up.

Turns out Blondie had a bit of a hard head, I guess. Turns out she actually saved my life. Ironic, eight lives I took, and only one mattered. I was in some strange hospital and although I could only barely move, it didn’t take long for me to realize that I had survived, there was a respirator breathing for me, and that every hour a policeman would walk into the room for a moment to make sure I’m still alive so that I will suffer for my actions. One time I heard him come in, sit down next to me and begin yelling at me. I pretended to stay asleep though, he actually scared me a little, until I found out that Blondie was his daughter. He was looking forward to taking her to Disneyland in two weeks for her birthday, the same place where when she was six he took her to, the same place that was their place. He was a single father and I took the only thing that mattered to him. It all made since then, I need not be afraid of him, he’s weak, and feels emotions, and that’s something that makes him lesser than I.

A couple of weeks passed, doctors eventually found out I was waking up, and my vital signs were getting better, so they eventually took me off a respirator. That’s about the time the detectives decided to throw me in a wheel chair and roll me into an investigation room, WITHOUT an attorney! Their names were Detective Gerald Heins and Detective Lou Briggs, please be sure they are held accountable for that.

It’s been another two weeks after that, my head still hurts constantly, and my vital signs had gone back down after catching a serious case of pneumonia while I was in hospital. So here I am, sitting in my hospital bed, with all sorts of needles and IV’s and medicine keeping me alive, and this is what brought you to me, to read this, my last words on this Earth. It’s time for me to be free, and I guess I just needed somebody to know what really happened, not because I’m regretful, but because I am passionate, and with that being known now, I’m taking my IV out, and threading it into my chest, and now I’m taking the breathing respirator out of my throat, and it hurts a lot, I’m typing this as I do this so bare with

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