L’uomo Rotto

“Hey… pass me that man.” Turk’s voice was as low as his eyes, whispering and scratching to speak. Johnny’s eyes moved slowly across the room to Turk’s.

On the way, he couldn’t help but notice how slow it felt like he was moving. He could see the blur of the dark room smearing across his retinas, which curiously made him feel like he needed to slow down even more. He sensed his balance was off, so he thought it best to continue sitting. 

“Dude…” Turk’s voice came again.

It sounded like he was down the hall. That made Johnny even more curious. What was Turk doing down the hall? I should just ask him, he thought. 

“Huh?” He grunted. Not exactly the question he had in mind, but it would do for now. 

“Pass me the J man.” 

Johnny looked around. The blur almost blinding to him. Everywhere he looked, there was no ‘J’. He checked his pockets. The table in front of him. Nothing.

“It’s in your hand dude.” Turk’s annoyed voice came again. 

Johnny looked down at his hands, thinking there was no way. To his amazement, a small cigarette-looking white wrap sat lodged between his thumb and pointer finger. The end of it was still smoking, and a bright shade of fiery amber pushed through the black ash and paper. 

“Oh yeah… shit, my bad man.” 

He laughed stupidly. 

“You’re an idiot dude.” Said Turk.

Johnny had something that resembled a comeback on his tongue when a sudden banging came from behind. The pounding sound of something heavy slamming into flimsy wood traveled all the way to Johnny’s chest, where he could’ve sworn the banging was coming from. 

Bang! Bang! Bang!

It came again, but more frenetic than the first time, which sounded quite organized. Drowned out shouting came from what sounded like the window, but it was hard to be certain. 

Bang! Bang! Bang! 

A third time the pounding came, the most aggressive one to this point. By now Johnny had discovered that the pounding was external. 

“Yo, someone’s at the door I think man.” Turk said lazily. His eyes were barely open, and the smoking joint was glued to the corner of his mouth between his lips. 

Johnny got to his feet. 

“I’ll get it then.” He said, swaying a bit as the blood rushed to his head from standing too quickly. Someone must’ve been shaking the ground underneath him. He knocked over part of the triangle-shaped graveyard of empty beer cans on the table, causing them to topple onto the floor and shoot off in various directions. 

“My bad.” He said as he let out a belch, but Turk didn’t seem to care, or even notice. He hardly even batted an eye at the sound. Instead he chuckled and laughed at the obnoxiously loud music and sound emitting from the silly videos he was glued to on his phone. 

Johnny waded through the toppled cans and pizza boxes littered on the floor until he made it to the front door. He hesitated for a moment before turning the knob and wrenching open the door. The sight made him wish he had kept it shut. His heart jumped into his throat and may well have escaped out of his mouth if he hadn’t pursed his lips together so tightly. 

Two uniformed officers stood in the dark archway just outside the door. He could see the silver-gold badges shining like twinkling stars in the night sky. Paralyzed with fear, he could not speak, mostly because of what the officers might think if his heart did in fact escape out of his mouth. 

“Is this the Bakersfield residence?” One of the officers asked. He was the most intimidating, with muscles that looked as though they would tear through a shirt made of pure Dyneema. 

“Oh… y-yeah. Sean? That’s our roommate.” Johnny stammered, his head foggy from the retracting euphoria and rising fear. 

“We have some questions about Sean.” 

“Uhh.. erm, okay.” Johnny stuttered, confused.

“When was the last time you saw Sean?” 

“This morning… no! Last night.” 

“Was there anything off about his appearance? Did he seem off to you in any way?” 

“No sir.. I mean he’s been hanging out with some new friends but nothing crazy.” 

“These new friends, what are they like?” The second officer asked. 

“Seem like nice guys. They came over for a bit the other night and hung out with us.” Johnny lied. The nice guys that had come over were drug dealers. Cartel members to be accurate, and they had come all the way to his house from Mexico to deal with the lack of sales issue in this territory. They had threatened Johnny and his roommates, but obliged to give them more time to make their quotas. 

“Can I ask what this is about officers?” Johnny blurted abruptly.

“Son, your roommate was shot and killed on the corner of Oleander and Jennings earlier today. We have reason to believe it may be gang related. He was shot execution style to the back of the head.” 

“Oh my god.” Johnny heard the words leave his lips but didn’t have any control over them. 

“You haven’t seen him since last night?” The first officer continued.

“N-no sir.” 

He was numb with drugs and grief now. Though he thought the drugs made no difference now.

“Okay, I think that’s all we have for now. If you think of any information or hear something, don’t hesitate to give us a call.” The officer handed him a small card with a phone number on it. 

“We’re sorry for your loss.” The second officer said, and the two of them left, leaving Johnny with his mouth as open as the door. 

“Who was it?” Turk’s slowed and dumb voice came as Johnny sat back down again. He was filling small bags with nuggets of green and rocks of white, dropping each of them on the scale in front of him and tinkering accordingly. 

“The police.” 

“What?! You answered the door for a co-“ Turk began to shout, but Johnny cut him off.

“Sean is dead.” 

He did not see or hear Turks reaction. All that was in front of him was his own agony. Where had he gone so wrong?