Typical Injustice

A dark alley…really? Typical. It is as if he wants to be killed. I thought shit like this only happened on television. However, he proves my thoughts wrong, by turning out to be the exact moron in the movies that I watch. Perhaps, he knows that for two weeks I’ve been here, watching him, studying him; trying to figure out how an evil man like him gets to continue to walk this earth. I’ve been living in my car for two weeks, because my mom kicked me out of her house. Actually, I think that I sort of kicked myself out of my moms "house of religious bullshit." Long story short, I said that a killer should no longer get to continue walking this earth and she didn’t take that all too well. 

“Who are you to decide who gets to live or die? That is only something god can decide,” That is what my mother said to me. Then I simply reciprocated my feelings by chucking my bible down the stairs while saying: “Fuck god.” I remember the face she gave me. It was like looking in a mirror, she was just as pissed as me, tugging on her silky blonde hair. Her eyes changed from grey to dark blue and her skin grew pale.

“Get out!” She screamed. “Get the hell out of my house…now!” 

I simply did as I was told and left without uttering another word. It didn’t feel like home. Even my own place didn’t feel like home, so I’ve been sleeping in my car and following the cop that killed my fiancé. 

When the cop is deep enough in the alley, I open my glove compartment and pull out my dad’s Glock 22. Perks to having a father that is a cop, I guess. He doesn’t know that it’s missing, yet. I push my door open and carefully exit the car and slam it shut. I waddle down the dark alley, using the moons reflected light as my guide. I hear the loud steps of the cop's feet, crunching on the broken glass, dispersed throughout the alley. Suddenly, the crunching sounds stop, but I continue to walk, since I am yet to see the cop. 

“Who’s there?” I hear him call. His outburst causes me to roll my eyes so far back in my head, that I am pretty sure my frontal lobe comes into view.

Eventually, the cop comes into view. He stands about a meter away from me, near a broken light that rests against the brick wall of a building, flickering on and off, on the verge of giving me a seizure. 

“Daph?” The cop says. He lets a breath out, out of relief. He must’ve been worried, thought someone evil was going to kill him, in this very alley. If he was thinking that, then he got one thing right. Someone is going to kill him, but I wouldn’t call myself evil. What’s that saying…‘an eye for an eye?’

The cop let’s a smile raise on his face and he begins to approach me slowly, but then his eyes drop to the gun that rests in my hand, by my side and he stops. 

“Daphne…is that-" he pauses to look up at me. "What are you doing?” 

I cock the gun and raise it up, aiming right at his head. 

“I’m going to kill you,” I say. 

He now raises both his hands in the air, looking very much afraid, good. Even in the dark I can see the sweat ooze from the tip of his stuck up, blonde hair, and glide down his forehead.

  “No, you’re not. Look Daph, whatever this is about we can settle it, but I know you are not going to kill me?” 

“The hell I aint!” I spit. “You killed him…you killed Quincy!” Tears now rush out of my eyes. I quickly wipe them away with the back of my hand and then place my hand back on the gun, keeping it steady and in place. 

“I thought he was reaching for a gun…I told him to put his hands up and he reached into his—”

“Lies! You know damn well Quincy didn’t own a fucking gun!” I shout. “You’ve been out for him, since we started dating and when you got your chance, you took him away from me. All you got was a slap on the wrist, actually I don’t think a paid suspension is a slap on the wrist.” 

“Daph, you’re confused…put the gun down.” He takes a step closer, daring to calm me down but it only causes me to tighten my grip on the gun.

“You racist! Quincy warned me, he said marrying him would mean that not only he will be judged but me as well for being with a black man. Who are you and every other racist ass to judge me for loving a black man? Quincy basically gave me an out. He said that if I walked away then and there then he’d understand. Now you’d think a typical white girl with platinum blonde hair would just walk away and run off searching for the richest white dude, but no. I stuck around, I told him that the pigment of his skin did not matter to me, that we will take on the world together. Then… you killed him.” 

He shakes his head. “Daphne…he was never going to make you happy.” 

I scoff. For a man who has a gun pointed directly at his head, he sure has a funny way of choosing his words. 

“Why? Because he was black!” 

“Yes.” 

I scoff again. “So, what now, when my baby is born, you gonna kill him too? Because he does have Quincy’s DNA inside him, he does have Quincy’s blood and well he’s going to be half black so what? You are going to kill my son?” 

He looks back and forth between my round belly, the gun and my face. He’s wondering what to say next, whether to lie and say something that could possibly get him out of being killed or to say the truth and immediately earn a bullet in his head. 

He says nothing, his face is blank and his hands are still raised in the air. It no longer matters though, time for talking is over. I don’t give him a chance to say any last words, because Quincy never got that chance either. I am just about to pull the trigger and then I feel a kick coming from inside me. I smile wide. If I kill him, then this kid grows up without a mother and I cannot allow that. As much as I want revenge for Quincy, this is not the way. I will fight for him the way he’d want me to, as a lawyer. I pull the gun down to my side. I’mma be a better parent than my stuck up, religious mother and my horribly, wicked father. 

“Death is too good for you,” I say before turning around. Then the thought hit me. He never said he was sorry, not once. I turn back around and he looks at me shocked by my sudden change of heart. I raise my gun back up and shoot him right in the foot. He screeches so loud that I assume even the dead hear him. Good, because I want Quincy to hear and laugh all the way from heaven. I drop the gun to the ground and waddle away. 

“I’ll see you in court father,” I say and look down at my belly and smile.