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Turn Of Events

by 20y/o Perspective about a year ago in fiction
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"Is this depression? Acceptance? A form of bargaining?"

The Burial Site

The plan was supposed to be simple.

Bury him. Look into his connections. Maintain a level head and slowly take out whatever cash you can. Dispose of all remaining evidence when finished. Forget.

What actually surprises me isn’t that I messed up and landed here.

It’s how quickly the realization came to me.

“I could profit from this.”

Here I am, standing above this guy with his head split wide open on the asphalt, and the next thought that comes to my mind is financial gain.

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Obviously, it was all new to me. I’ve never done this shit before. Not even close.

When you see a guy trying to break into your car, what do you do? You can back away and call someone or you can go and confront him. But that’s wrong. It’s only “confronting” for as long as they allow it.

I impulsively yell “HEY!” and run over to the driver’s side. Was I actually going to do anything to this man? Even push him aside and drive off? Just avoid it all and push him out of the way. Start the car, leave the area, and call the cops.

Neither of us say a thing. We just stare at each other. Moonlight on his face. One of the most forgettable faces I’ve ever seen. The frightened man in his eyes. Freezing winds all around us die down. For a brief moment, it’s peaceful. Calm. We exchange eyes. His hands reaching for me, grabbing me, turning me around, it honestly couldn’t have been faster.

I don’t know who saw it unfold, but it wasn’t me. I was just along for the ride. Or at least, I want to think so.

I couldn’t breathe. His arms around my neck pulling me closer and closer, closing off all pathways. All I could do was push back in the same direction, tripping us both towards the ground. A much needed gasp after the impact and I felt his arms relax. A moment to blink twice. I quickly regained my breath while shifting off of him. Without hesitation, I get up and face him, stumbling backwards. Hands at the side without much feeling.

Not a muscle moves. Just that blank expression towards the dark sky. A few thin streams of red gently decorating the scene. I hold my breath. 10 seconds go by. Then 20. The ride along comes to an end, and the resulting air slowly lets out through the nose.

His body fell out of focus and the environment around me started playing tricks. Looking around myself, it became too large an area to scan. Everything seemed like a witness to what happened. Not to mention the cameras. 3 cameras. 4. A total of 4 cameras.

The wind returns in waves. Not far away, on the other side of the train tracks between properties, the gentle hiss of a truck breaks through. I look back to him. Just dead. Nothing else.

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Much to my surprise, nobody saw any of it. Complete silence everywhere I looked, as far as I could tell. I went over to him to make sure.

I couldn’t stop staring. His gaze into the stars seemed lifelike for the most part. I couldn’t say that he was looking at me, but rather through me. The eyes didn’t seem to propose anything anymore. No man in control, no one at all. To be honest, I don’t remember much of a reaction on my part. It felt like all I wanted to do was to study his absence. To understand the absence of his absence.

In reality, I just wanted to get in the car, go home, and erase all of this from my mind. Once again, just drive away. However the difference in this scenario is that I wouldn’t be in the right.

This is Canada. Claiming self-defense wouldn’t stand for shit as it could easily be said that “not confronting him” was a viable option. Which, incidentally, is exactly how it went down. My thinking was, “Better to have a chance than no chance.” I still agree with this notion. Everything I’ve done in life, everything I’ve been through, arriving to this point and losing it all in an instant. I couldn’t just give all that up.

My hands were still shaking, although the front part of my head, previously obstructed by shock and fear, cleared up. That built up feeling above my face definitely vanished. I gave myself the green light to really think this through. It was a quality of mental freedom I hadn’t had in a long time. And in the spotlight appeared the words, “Advantage” and “Free”.

Look, these are the facts. I still don’t fully understand it. All I can say is that it must’ve been part of me, I just never knew it. There’s no need to explain it further that that.

I realized that to properly handle this and keep myself sane, I needed to look at it as a set of tasks. Just another project to complete. Setting myself on auto-pilot, getting back on the ride, turned out to be a brilliant move. Even now, I’m struggling to remember exactly how I took care of the situation. Could’ve been in some sort of “active-comatose” state, might explain it a bit.

From what I can piece together, here is how I did it.

- Removed his jacket and belongings and put them in the car.

- Took his arms and dragged him around the corner to the small alley behind the outdoor storage units.

- Left him in the darkness.

- Opened the trunk and took out a snow brush.

- Covered the pool of blood and drag marks with snow from a pile left after the storm a few nights prior.

- Brushed it all away into the drainage grate close by.

- Dismantled the brush and threw the pieces into a dumpster.

- Went up to my unit on the second floor.

- Came back down to the body with a shovel.

- Had to push him a bit further down the alley so that I could stay in the darkness while digging.

- Once finished, I set him into the hole facing the ground, and began to fill it in.

- Made sure the ground was level and looking like the rest around it.

- Returned the equipment back upstairs.

- Cleaned my hands.

When I came back down to the car, the next step was to examine his things.

A wallet, phone, black pocketbook, and keys. The wallet had some cash and cards. $35 in bills, health card, visa and debit card. No driver’s licence. No other pictures.

Couldn’t guess my way into the phone. Lock screen had a photo of a car off the internet. No contact information.

The pocketbook had some general notes in the front, and some seemingly pointless numbers around the middle section. I say “seemingly” because two of the them turned out to be the PIN numbers I needed. The other number strands were much longer and I couldn’t find out what they were for.

His key-chain only held 2 keys.

It was then pretty clear to me that very few were going to miss this guy. Obviously being the best case scenario for me.

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What proceeded from that night on, was a slow and controlled gathering of funds, note-taking, and purchasing.

Looking into his totals, I found that he had an astounding balance of $15,700 on his debit, and $530 on his visa with a limit of $5,000.

These numbers were very concerning in all honesty. However, they made things much more straightforward. Use up the cards as quickly as possible but with natural numbers. Who knows what this guy was doing. I wasn’t going to be any more a part of it than I had already been.

I would take out decent amounts at a time from both cards. On average, about 250 bucks every time. Decided to use his pocketbook as well. Starting a few pages from where he stopped, I kept track of the new totals.

- How much I take out

- How much I’ve taken so far

Made it easier to not make mistakes, and more importantly, it helped me cope.

All in all, the grand total came out to twenty thousand dollars, and some change. At that point, I would’ve been going over the limit and possibly attracting attention. So I cut the cards a couple times and disposed the pieces across different areas.

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I did my best not to question myself after the event, but now that’s it’s over, I honestly couldn’t give a damn. So what if this was always a part of me.

I suppose it makes sense really. All I wanted was to get my phone from the car, and now, I’m in this goddamn place. Some used to say that prison isn’t as bad as shown in the movies, and yet I talk back to one piece of human garbage and there it is. A death warrant.

I’ve never known this feeling before. This searing pain in my chest. The loss of circulation in my limbs.

Is this depression? Acceptance? A form of bargaining?

I don’t want to think anymore.

fiction

About the author

20y/o Perspective

I study my brain, and how it interacts with the world. | Certified being with 20 years of the human experience. | "About Me" section as first post.

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