David

It was the cold of the guns metal against my back that let me know things were about to go from bad to worse—if that was at all possible. The person behind me, holding me at gunpoint, had said something, but I missed it, his words drowned out by the sound of my own beating heart.

               “Are you deaf? Get in your car,” the voice growled again.

The voice was husky and low and one that I didn’t recognise. I reached out for my cars door handle, my hands shaking. I got inside and stared ahead. By the time the thought occurred to me to lock the doors and drive away, the passenger door slammed closed, and the man wound his window down.

               “Kiefer,” the man said, the sound of my own name knocking me out of the shock. “Tonight is going to end very well for you, if you just do what I say.”

I looked over at him, his face unfamiliar. He had dark hair that was slightly longer than his chin, dark brown eyes, and a small smile across his thin lips. I didn’t know him; I had never seen him before in my life.

               “Now, I need you to drive. Go down Winward street and take a left. You ever been to the shitty little shop on the end of Richmond’s?” he asked, looking over at me. He shook out a cigarette, put it in his mouth, and lit it.

               “Uh, yeah,” I tried, my voice catching in my throat.

               “You just drive there, alright? I’ll tell you what to do from there,” he said.

He lit his cigarette before offering the packet to me. I shook my head; I hadn’t touched one of those in five years. He gave a slight shrug and put the packet back in his pocket.

               “Please,” I managed to squeak out. “Please don’t hurt me.”

He let out a strangled laugh before exhaling a mouthful of smoke.

               “Come on, don’t be pathetic man,” he said, tapping the grey ash off his cigarette out the window. “Grow some balls, you’re going to need them when we get there.”

I turned on the ignition, the street ahead of me lighting up with the glow from the headlights. As we moved through the quiet streets, my mind was a mess of half-finished thoughts and screams of fear. He’s going to kill you, the voice shouted, loud enough to interrupt any thoughts about escaping. Why else would he show you his face?

 I turned down Richmond, the faint neon green of the shops sign spilled out onto the street.

I pulled up in front and turned the ignition off.

               “Turn it back on, you’re going to want a fast escape,” he muttered, throwing his cigarette out he window. I turned the engine back on and sat dumbly.

               “I need you to go in there, and take everything they have,” he said.

               “You, you want me to rob them?” I questioned, confused.

               “Yes.”

He handed me the gun, the weight heavy in my shaking hands.

               “Go wave this in their face and demand the money out of their cash register,” he said.

I looked down at the gun and nodded.

               “Then come back out here and haul ass.”

I opened my door and walked towards the shop. It was a run down, dirty looking place, if it wasn’t for the fact that there wasn’t another shop around for a couple of blocks, they probably wouldn’t get any business at all, though at 2am on a Wednesday morning, I doubted there would be anyone else inside at all. I wasn’t going to rob them, obviously, I was going to get some distance and call the police. 

I walked into the shop, the bell on the old door chimed.

               “Please,” the man stuttered before I even got a word out. “Take the money!” he had his hands in the air as he stared frantically down at mine. I glanced down and saw the gun. I hadn’t hidden it. I ran over towards him, he took a couple of steps back, hitting the wall behind him.

               “You need to call the police, I have been kidnapped,” I shouted. He stared at me, fear clear in his eyes.

               “Please,” I begged.

He stood frozen, staring from me to the gun in my hands. The bell chimed again, and I looked up to see the stranger walk in. I lifted the gun and aimed at him.

               “Don’t you fucking move, or Ill kill you,” I said.

The attendant stiffened, his arms rising higher.

               “Please don’t hurt me,” he said again, though his fear had been somewhat replaced with confusion.

               “What are you going to do? Shoot me?” the stranger sneered. “Do it, I dare you. Shoot me in the fucking face.”

I raised the gun higher and played with the trigger. He took a step closer, a smile on his face.

               “Please don’t make me hurt you,” I said.

               “Do it,” he repeated.

As he took another step forward, I squeezed the trigger.

Nothing.

The gun was empty.

I looked from the gun back towards the stranger, as he removed another gun from his leather jacket and pointed it at me.

               “Get the money and let’s go. And I promise you, this one’s loaded.”

I turned towards the attended. Why wasn’t he calling for help?

               “Give me the money,” I said. “Give me the money and call the police,” I added in a whisper.

The man opened the register and started taking the money out, putting it on the counter, his hands shaking so badly, he dropped a few of the notes. I scooped up the money and put it into my pocket. Once the till was empty, I turned towards the stranger. He motioned for me to exit, and I followed his instructions.

Praying that the attendant would call the police.

Praying the attendant would save my life.

The stranger walked out behind me, the gun once again against my back. He gave me a hard shove towards the car, the cold of the metal sending a wave of nausea through me. I got in and closed the door, slamming my hand down on the lock, but hearing the passenger door had already opened before I managed to lock it. I started to turn the ignition, but it was too late, he was in the car.

               “See Kiefer, that wasn’t so hard,” he said with a smirk. “I’m David, and I am more than happy to make your acquaintance tonight.”

               “What do you want from me,” I said, my voice surprisingly stable.

               “The cops will be out on the roads soon enough, you need a new car,” he said, ignoring me. He shook out another cigarette and lit it.

               “Want one?” he asked, holding the packet out towards me. I nodded, my lips dry I took one out, putting it in my mouth with a shaking hand. He reached over and lit it. The smoke felt harsh, burning my throat but making me feel a little better, a little more relaxed.

               “You need to head south, when I give you the word, pull up,” he said.

They only drove for a few minutes before he gave the command. I stopped the car and turned the engine off, the road in front of me instantly shrouded in darkness.

               “See that lady back down the road? She’s putting a baby into the car. I need you to run up and take that car, take her keys. Weather you hurt them or not is your decision.”

               “Please, why are you making me do this?” I asked, managing to stop a sob by taking a deep draw on the cigarette.

               “Just do this and I will let you go, I promise.”

I opened my car door, the useless gun still in my hand and stomped the cigarette out onto the ground. I headed down the street, ready to start running, when I felt David catch up to me, walking close at my side. I glanced down and saw he had his gun too, though his was pointed towards me.

We reached the lady as she went to shut the back door. I held the gun up, the shock and fear on her face making me feel sick.

               “Take the baby and give me your keys,” I demanded. “You won’t be hurt,” I added quickly.

She burst into tears, turning and taking her baby out. She turned and started to run, her car keys hitting the concrete next to the car.

               “Pick them up,” David said, moving his gun to point at them. I bent down and grabbed them, a soft brown bear key chain making me feel worse. I had no choice. It was the car, or my life.

               “Get in,” he hissed.

I walked around and got in the car, the strangers car smelling sweet and the baby seat in the back sent another pang of guilt through me.

               “You take the car.” I tried. “I won’t tell anybody about you, I swear.”

               “We have more fun to have though,” David said. “Remember that asshole, what’s his name, John.”

My heart stopped.

John, I hadn’t heard that name since, well, since last year.

               “What about him?” I asked, worried I knew where this was going. “He sent you, didn’t he?”

David laughed.

               “No, he didn’t.”

               “Then how do you know …” I started, but the flash backs to Johns face covered in the blood of my fiancé stopped the words short.

               “Would be nice to kill the asshole, wouldn’t it?” he said.

               “What do you know about it?” I asked, suddenly not feeling so scared.

               “I know that he deserves a bullet to the face,” he replied. He took out his cigarettes and shook one out, offering me the box. I took one and put it in my mouth. He reached over and lit it.

               “Got off didn’t he? No longer than a year in jail while the trial proceeded,” David said, lighting his own cigarette. “How does an asshole like that get off Scott free?”

               “Who are you?” I asked. “How do you know about that?”

               “I think, putting that piece of shit into the ground, might be cathartic.”

               “I can’t kill him,” I started, but I was lying. I had daydreamed about killing that asshole for the last year.

               “Look, lets make this easy for you. You either drive over to that assholes house and put some lead in him, or I do it to you.”

I looked down as he positioned the gun on his lap.

               “Not much of a decision, is it?” he said, smirking.

               “I don’t know where he is,” I lied.

               “I do.”

I started driving. The street lights a blur, the smoke making me feel better, despite it making my head spin. How did David know about John? 

By the time we arrived to where that asshole lived, the houses lights were off, and the clock has ticked past 2.30 am. I hadn’t even bothered to pretend not to know where he lived. Shit, I use to drive by all the time, imagining what it would be like to go up and knock on the door. Still, I hesitated in the car before looking over at David.

               “I can’t do this,” I said.

               “You can, and you will,” he replied. “It’s your life, or his. I would say that’s an easy answer,” he said.

               “I don’t understand why you’re doing this? Did he do something to you?”

He shook his head. Without waiting for anything further from him, I opened the car door. David got out and followed me up to the darkened door.

-

               “You’re telling me, that a complete stranger made you kill your fiancés murderer?” The detective questioned; his eyebrow raised in a way that told me he didn’t believe me.

               “Yes, it was my life, or Johns,” I answered, though I understood why this might seem questionable.

               “And what did this David have to gain from forcing you to kill him?” he asked.

               “I…I don’t know?” I admitted. “But just ask the shop attendant …” I started, my mind a blur, the flashbacks to Johns lifeless body bringing me nothing but peace.

               “You mean the attendant that you robbed?” he said.

               “That I was forced to rob,” I corrected. The bright light of the interrogation room forcing my eyes closed for a minute. “He can tell you; he can tell you that David was there!” I exclaimed, my eyes still closed. “I need a cigarette,” I added.

               “We did speak to him, and you want to know what he told us?” the detective replied, brushing his blonde hair back behind his ears. “He told us that you came into that shop with a gun, going on about how you’d been kidnapped, but he didn’t see anyone else there. He told us you were acting all crazy.”

I frowned.

               “His lying,” I said.

               “And why would he be lying?” the detective questioned.

               “Maybe not lying, but maybe he just didn’t see David. My gun wasn’t loaded anyway.”

               “I’m sure that will help him sleep easier. And the car you stole? From that poor women who had her newborn baby with her?”

My cheeks flushed red.

               “I didn’t have a choice.”

               “So let me get this straight. A stranger, this David guy, forced you to rob a convenience store but let you keep the money? He forced you to steal a car to drive to the man’s house who killed your fiancé and then he forced you to kill him. The very same man you have been heard saying you were going to kill?”

I nodded my head. Aware of how ridiculous it all sounded.

But it was true, I swear to God, it was all true.

The judge didn’t believe me, hell, my own family didn’t believe me. There was no way to prove that David had been with me. He was obviously a pro at this. And although I now do nothing but sit in this cell, my only company a man who actually did murder someone on his own accord, I can’t help but be thankful for David. The man who pushed me to do what I was too scared to do. The man who gave me the opportunity to kill John.

David may have changed my life forever, but at least when I lay here on the hard, uncomfortable mattress they call a bed at night, I smile as I imagine John on the ground, the pain he had caused me nothing compared to what he went through that night.

I hope one day I can meet David again, though as the weeks turn into months, and months into years, I start to accept that maybe he wasn’t real after all, and you know what? That’s alright too.