Care

It’s not that I don’t appreciate the hand that fate has dealt me. I do, really. It’s a massive improvement compared to where I was before. A big city is the perfect place to hide when you’re young, apathetic , and running from the law. Tall buildings and narrow alleys with an abundance of people who are too wrapped up in their own lives to care about yours. There’s no shortage of landlords who are willing to stay quiet and ignore the suspiciously large briefcase you’re dragging around as long as you slip them a wad of cash. The city is the perfect place to be.

It’s alright that it doesn’t have the familiar streets and stores of my hometown. It’s for the best that there are no familiar faces. I don’t need familiarity. I need anonymity and discretion.

If I really wanted to, I could probably get away with another murder. A drunken man falling on the train tracks can’t be too unusual. A dead body stabbed twenty-three times and dropped behind a dumpster? Mugging gone wrong. Fall out of a window? It’s amazing how clumsy people can be when under the influence. The law enforcement has bigger fish to fry. Moving on to pander to the next rich politician’s agenda.

I glimpse myself through the reflective surface of a passing taxi. That’s another thing that’s different. My town was too small to need a taxi. My expression has morphed from bored indifference to an unsettling smile. I quickly relax my facial muscles and move on. Even if no one will notice, it’s crass to walk around looking like I just murdered someone. Well I did but that’s not the point. I promised myself that I would never do it again. But I failed to consider the rush of adrenaline and euphoria that the wave of warmth the red liquid brought as it splashed all over my hands.

I shiver and pull my jacket closer towards me. What a day to forget my gloves. At least I didn’t forget anything more important. A small bar nestled between a department store and some kind of machine shop closed for the night beckons me towards its warmth. I head towards it with my head down like everyone else on the street.

A bell chimes overhead as I push open the door and I’m immediately hit with a cacophony of different sounds. The heat is almost stifling, and it nearly drives me back into the cold but the sight of a menu touting a half off sign makes me reconsider. I stumble my way past the other patrons and snag a seat at the end of the bar. A game is playing on the television and the crowd simultaneously boos or cheers whenever their team makes a goal.

Great. I’m in a sports bar.

I wave the frazzled bartender over and slide him a wad of cash while pointing to a random alcoholic beverage on the wall. He takes it and scurries off to make my poison of choice. Another scream erupts from the crowd. My head starts to throb.

It’s too hot and too crowded. Somewhere in my peripheral vision I see a cup being placed in front of me. I reach out and bring it to my lips. It goes down and I can’t taste anything besides pain. I set it down with a thud. Well what can you expect from a bar on the lower side of the city. The noise swells to a crescendo. I think their favorite player just made a goal. I’m not sure.

I stand slowly, resting my palms on the counter to hold my weight. The room starts to spin, and I sit back down heavily. It might be the alcohol, but I doubt it. I can hold my liquor. The faces of the people celebrating start to blur. Their eyes are glued to the screen and not on each other. It’s hard to breathe now.

Through the noise I hear a soft scream. It’s not a joyous one. It’s a small scream of panic from a young woman sitting at one of the tables near the bar. Her companion is a rough looking guy. Unkempt with bloodshot eyes. He has one hand on her wrist and another covering her mouth. I watch with some kind of detached disinterest as she struggles against his grip, but a five-three brunette woman is no match for a six-foot guy. He probably slipped something in her drink because she stops struggling and slumps against him a few minutes later.

I watch with a disinterested horror as he drags her up and out of her chair. No one noticed. They’re busy with the game after all. The man carefully scans the crowd as he maneuvers the inert woman out the door. For a split second our eyes connect. There is no recognition in those beady bloodshot eyes. They glance right over me and he’s out the door.

His disgusting hazy eyes are familiar. I’ve seen them in other’s faces on the subway, in street corners and back home. Those are the eyes of someone who isn’t really here. They’re only aware enough to do bad things. It shocks me back into myself. The haziness in my eyes starts to settle. It’s still hot. I need to get out.

Leaping out of my seat, I shove my way through the drunken patrons. The crisp air hits my face as I leave the bar. The street outside isn’t busy but it’s not isolated either. I hear drunken laughter and the sound of an argument drifting down from an open window somewhere.

I clench my hand around the cold Swiss knife in my pocket. I take it out a smoothly flip it open. It glints under the dim streetlights and I plunge down the alley beside the bar. It’s dark but I can see two figures pressed against the brick walls. It reeks of garbage. The dumpster probably hasn’t been emptied recently.

I slink closer to the figures and I can see that it’s the man and woman from the bar. She is still unconscious with her blue blouse torn open. The man is fumbling with the zipper on her jeans but I guess he’s too inebriated to open that properly as well. A pleasant buzz runs through my body. It’s excitement. This is for a good cause I tell myself as I move closer. The poor woman shouldn’t be subjected to that torture like I was.

With a swift movement the knife is buried in the back of his neck. I rip it out and blood pours out of the wounds. He makes a choked sound and moves to turn around but he falls forward before he can see my face. My heart feels like it’s going to jump out of my chest. The adrenaline has yet to wear off. I stab the man once more through his skull for good measure. The blood is getting everywhere. Through all the commotion the woman still hasn’t woken up. Lucky for her.

             I look around and find no one. The couple is still arguing. I flick my knife to get rid of the blood on the blade and slice a piece of fabric from the woman’s torn shirt. It’s already in tatters anyway. I wrap the fabric around my right hand and dig through the man’s pockets for his wallet. He doesn’t have anything else of value on him so it should look like a mugging gone wrong. I kick him behind the dumpster and disappear into the night.

I’m not worried. This is a big city and this happens all the time. People won’t notice and somehow I doubt that the man has any relatives who will care. Maybe we’re similar that way. Except that I killed mine and people back home cared. 

Rain starts to fall as if the weather is trying to help me cover my tracks. I grin up at the sky and speed up. Yes, I'm do appreciate the hand fate has dealt me.