Silence Pt.1

I DID IT!!!! I MADE ALL 5 STORIES FOR ALL 5 PROMPTS!!!! ENJOY!!!!! THIS IS DEDICATED TO CELESTE AND UGOCHI N. CHECK THEM OUT!!!!!

I didn't know. I swear I didn't know. You believe me, don't you? You don't even know what I did yet, how could you? You're innocent. Not privy to the horrible knowledge that I am. I'm writing this to you because I have done a horrible thing. Please don't tell anyone what I've done. Please don't make me hurt you in return.

You won't think me evil, no, not after you've heard it. The whole story. Not to forgive me, that would make you evil, wouldn't it? Well, here's how it happened.

I was walking down the street, you know the one, Mercury, over downtown. As I had passed Jessica's boutique, I heard a scream. It wasn't a male scream, mind you, it was shrill. Now, you see, I had been drinking. In fact, a bottle of whiskey had been hanging out of my hand. It wasn't my fault that I didn't call for help first, I was drunk! You can't blame me for something I did or didn't do when I was a drunk!

When no one else came, I thought Eh, I'll check it out. I staggered forward, holding my shoes as if they were knives.

"Who's there! Eh! Why'd ya scream?" I threw my shoes, not caring about who it hit. I was a drunk, remember. Don't blame me for any of this. I heard a grunt, and then a flop. The vertigo of the whiskey had started to wear off, and I slumped forward. There was a body on the ground.

Now, don't take me as a bystander, or anything like that. Just because I walked away doesn't make me a bad person. I didn't kill her, I don't think, something else had. Maybe I did, but the important thing to remember is that I was drunk.

Yes, I suppose I could tell someone. No, I'm not going to.

Whatdya mean 'Why not?' They could indict me!! I'm not going to go to jail for the rest of my life! Here, let me explain why I'm not going to. Remember, we're focusing on the one thing that I did wrong.

I don't want to go to jail because I have a child. Yeah, that's right. She's five years old, and I can't love her more than I already am. She is the sweetest little thing in the whole world.

Yeah, I know that seems kind of selfish, but I don't care. Sometimes I have to be selfish, to advocate self-interest. That's not unhealthy but logical.

No. I'm not going to show them the body either. Then they'd wonder where I found it. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go along with my day now.

Ugh, If you're going to follow me then be quiet.

______________ 3rd Person POV_________________

Jack Wenegal walked out of his little house, still conflicting internally with another unknown being. No one knew who he was talking to, and they didn't care to find out. They had problems of their own.

He moped around, trying his very hardest not to look suspicious. Among a world of swindlers and impostors, it didn't make him look even more so.

"Hello, Mr. Wenegal!" Mrs. Celeste yelled across the streets, her hand outstretched and watering some pansies. Mrs. Celeste was trying to be nice to him. Always had, actually, no matter what mood he was in. The truth was that she took pity upon him.

"Hey." Jack kept walking, only giving a mere moment of acknowledgment to his kind neighbor.

He trudged along and within moments arrived at a liquor store. The clerk, Ugochi Parkinson, wasn't happy to see him. In fact, it appalled her.

"How can a person drink so much and still have the audacity to come back again for more? I bet I've had to sell more bottles of liquor to him than in the past two years before he started coming!" It appalled Ugochi because she knew what Jack had done. Ugochi had learned quite a many things as a liquor vendor, secrets that slipped from the mouths of drunks. Mr. Wenegal's own secret wasn't even the worst that she'd heard in this place. In fact, not even close. Ugochi understood why Jack didn't want to tell anyone. That was why she hadn't.

Jack ordered five bottles of rum and hid them in his torn, baggy jacket. It was the type of jacket that had seen too much, done too much. It was an exhausted jacket. Of course, that's what it'd tell you if it could talk.

Jack's guilt weighed down on him like a heavyweight wrestler piggyback-riding him. He couldn't move, couldn't think unless it was in moderation. After all, he was carrying a secret, and secrets could be especially heavy.

"Stop it. Stop talking to me like that. I don't want to tell them. I DON'T WANT TO TELL THEM!" Jack realized that he'd yelled that last part. No one paid any mind, though. They never did. No one cared what Jack did as long as he wasn't bothering them.

In his mind, Jack whirled back and forth. His thoughts could've filled fifteen blackboards by then. What killed that poor lady? Who was she? he wondered in suspicious trains of thought. Jack, though he was unaware of it, had hitched himself to one of those trains, and he wouldn't be letting go anytime soon.

He found himself, as if by magic, wandering back to that alley, the scream still fresh in his head. Sooner or later, Jack was there, standing next to the woman, his hands shaking.

Jack turned her over, trying to keep his hands clean. He soon realized he didn't need to, for there was no blood. That was odd, there was blood there when he first found it. He reached for her purse, never taking his eyes off of the woman herself, and he glimpsed her ID. It said MRS. PRIVATE REDACTED. Well, you're dead, so I can assume that all this REDACTED stuff is over and done with. He reached deeper, ruffling around a bit, and pulled out a long stick. It was glowing. No, it wasn't a stick. It was a wand.