Love, Money, Revenge, and Insanity

 "Are you coming tonight?" As he says this, I notice that the queasy green of his skin has washed away, due to his excessive amount of tears.

 "Why are you still crying?" My tongue cuts through the words as I drag on a cigarette.

 "Why do you think?"

 "Just stop, it would you?"

 "You should," He bites his lip till it ripens white. "You should thank me for crying, it'll make it more believable," I mutter a profanity or two, but the only reply I get from Ace is a quiet whimper and a turn of his head. 

 Three Months Before, I didn't smoke. I was never rude to Ace. I had never walked into the CVS three blocks away from my apartment. I never really understood the feeling of being paranoid. Some may say, I was the happiest and most normal person at MIT. I was studying Engineering and Computer Science. I had a cat named Kennedy. And that's all there really was to me. I don't think I'll ever get such a simple life ever again. In fact, July 22nd was the last time I had the pleasure of simplicity. Just like everyone else in the world, I was isolated, trying to be productive, but ended up binge-watching some Netflix show. Around 5 pm is when a knocking came on my door. The memory is blurry, I just remember the odor of a nasty hangover and the joy in my nerves when seeing his face.

 "Ruff day?" I joked as he sat down at my tiny dining room table.

 "Ruff seventy-two hours is more like it.” A little frazzled, I asked him what happened. God, that’s the worst question I’ve ever asked. It’s why everything in my life will be different forever. Trailing my question, was his answer. Trailing his answer was my anxiety reaching a high that’s not humanly possible. “I’m real sorry hun’, but I need your help.” He said, with his shaking hand knitting through his hair. Of Course, just like how my family raised me, I knew I had to help anyone who needed it. The nearly insane man before me explained his plan. “Your good with technology and stuff, I’m good at being awfully sneaky. I don’t like the results any more than you do, but at least I can guarantee you’ll get some good out of it.” He was rights, I’ve always been a genius with technology and I know it. He wasn’t just sly but charismatic. And if I followed through with the plan, I would have gotten the opportunity to work anywhere I’d wanted! Tesla, Apple, Google, even Space X if that really tickled my fancy. But just like every other evil plan in history, things went south. It started with the “project.” He wanted to know if it would work. I told him it wouldn’t, not yet. But Zander being Zander, (while I wasn’t looking) he used Kennedy as a guinea pig. Going to the vet because of my dead pet, was just another one of the “firsts” I’ve had to experience because of this stupid ordeal. The car ride back from the vet was silent beside my sobs and horns of road rage. 

  “Once all this crap is done, I’m getting a good-paying job, and then I’ll never talk to you again,” I screamed at the top of my lungs while a trashy Tik Tok song played on the radio. 

  “You said it wouldn’t work.” He hissed.

  “That doesn’t mean you can just go and try it on my cat!” When we got back to my apartment, I told him to get rid of the cat bowls, food, litter, and litter box. He did as I commanded, then left me alone for the night. Some may ask why I still followed through with the plan after Zander’s jerk move. The only way I’d be able to reply is by saying this, I watched a movie once on the Hallmark Murder Movies and Mysteries channel. One of the detectives said, “Crime is committed because of at least one of the following, love, money, revenge, or insanity.” Well, this crime was committed because of all four of those reasons. My first reason was that I loved Zander. We were never “official,” we just shared a few kisses and late-night phone calls. Still, that was enough of a motive for my pathetic self. Second, was because of the job opportunity that he promised me. That meant money security for the rest of not only my life but my children’s and grandchildren’s lives. After Kennedy’s tragic death, I knew that all I could do was follow through with the plan because it would hurt Zander more. If I didn’t help him, he would almost definitely go to prison, the alternative would cause him to suffer, hence revenge. Zander’s insanity reflected upon me, starting the day he came to my door with that horrible hangover. After we… did what we did to that poor old janitor and the 7 eleven owner, I became more of a psychopath than Zander was. In fact, he forced me to go to the doctor.

  “Don’t tell the Doc anything besides that you’re having the panic attacks. If she asks why just say it must be because of school or somethin’.” I did just that. And soon, that lead to my weekly prescription at CVS. Everyone was jolly at the pharmacy, they knew me by name, offered to do things for me, I always refused anything more from them than my prescription and a grape-flavored lollypop. Everything was starting to get back on track in my life until my curiosity got to me. There’s this rundown convenience store next to CVS. I just wanted to check it out, maybe get a slushy or something. Instead, I walked out with a pack of Lucky Strikes. After one drag, I was addicted like a vampire is to blood. It got so bad, that I would smoke a pack a day, sometimes more. The drugs, lead to my insufficiency in schoolwork. Essay after essay. Test after test. Projects overdue turned into nonexistent projects. As you can imagine, the worst possible thing happened, and that’s that. I used to be an MIT student, but I blew it. My whole life was once again, a train wreck, a soap opera is more like it. And it couldn’t get much worse. Once the two bodies were found, Zander died from a “car accident” and I befriended Ace, an unemployed and aspiring philosopher from Seoul who doesn’t know a word of English. Like I said, letting Zander go to prison would be harmless to him, but letting him suffer, letting him fake his own death would be the best revenge. 

  Ace’s footsteps snap on and off of the autumn leaves.

  “Why would you go to a funeral of a person you don’t know?” I ask before he’s too far away to hear me.

  “Because everyone is going.” He isn’t faced towards me, but I can see the fog of his breath in the thin icy air.

  “I bet you just wanna go because it’s your own funeral,” I mutter

  “Don’t say that stuff here!” Still, he doesn’t turn around.

  “What, you don’t wanna be reminded that you’re a narcissist?” He’s silent. “If you really want to know, I’m not going.”