I hope this isn't too confusing. Please let me know!
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Heavy footsteps clunked through the foggy streets leaving wet boot prints in their wake. Cam walked away. He just walked away from the echo of cries, now silenced in the back of his car. Who were they to him? A simple mistake. He would wipe his hands of them. Just as soon as he wiped his hands of their blood.
About twenty minutes later, Mike walked into a convenience store. He quickly ran through the list of things Gale had asked him to get: milk, eggs, bread, chicken, toilet paper… He looked lazily down the isles and found the things he was looking for. Classical music was quietly playing in the background.
There was a television behind the counter playing the news. The meticulous news reporter began talking quickly; it was breaking news.
Mike barley heard the television until he was at the counter, piling up the food before digging out his wallet. The cashier was watching the news intently, trying to find out who the victims were. That’s when Mike noticed. How could he not? It was his family.
“Gale Flowers and her small baby were found in the trunk of an abandoned car with no license plates. They were brutally stabbed, and it appears that there was a struggle. The police…”
Mike couldn’t hear anymore. His heart dropped, his skin prickled where the goose-bumps slowly showed up.
It’s not my fault…
What? Are you going to blame me again? You know it wasn’t all my decision this time. If it was up to me, we would have done this long ago.
No. I didn’t. No… No.
He turned his head towards the TV and simply how composed the reporter looked was enough to make him throw up all over the counter. The cashier whipped around.
“Hey! Dude!” he shouted, wiping his flowered button down shirt. Mike walked away. His boots leaving muddy footprints on the cold hard floor.
Cam walked into the apartment, grinning. It was small and dingy, but it was his favorite place to be. He called out to Charlotte, his girl. His love. He had a surprise for her.
“Charlotte!” he called again.
“Yeah?” she answered, coming into the room, wiping her hands on a damp kitchen towel.
“I brought you something,” he answered, a sly smile creeping upon his face. He held a small box behind his back.
She appraised him warily, a delicate golden eyebrow raised. But she couldn’t help smiling. “What?”
He didn’t answer her right away. Cam loved the suspense. He slowly crept up to her until their chests practically touched. He stared down into her eyes, boring into them.
“What is it?” she asked in a strong voice, popping a hip and resting her hand on it, impatiently.
He grinned again and slowly sank down onto his knee.
“No,” she whispered in disbelief. He still didn’t say anything, but he pulled the box out from behind him and held it in front of her.
“No freakin’ way!” Charlotte squealed, not taking her eyes off the box as her hands began to shake and the towel fell to the ground. Cam nodded twice.
“Charlotte, my love. Will you marry me?” he said in a low voice.
She squealed again, nodding so fast it seemed as though her head would fall off. He stood back up, laughing as she threw herself at him, jumping up and wrapping her legs around him. Cam kissed her hungrily, pulling her onto the floor.
Later, Charlotte was dozing off, ring now on her finger. She laid curled on the floor up facing away from Cam, long gold hair resting along her back. He watched her, his head resting on his hand. He slowly reached out to her, pushing her hair over her shoulder to expose her bare back. He gently kissed her neck.
“I’m so glad you finally did it. I thought it would never happen,” she murmured sleepily.
“Mmm,” he answered.
“How long will it take until we can get married? Will the divorce take a while?” she asked, turned to look at Cam. Her eyes were large and innocent. He almost felt sorry for her.
Cam shook his head. She smiled and turned back around, yawning.
He stared at her neck… there were wispy hairs under her thick mane…
So delicate… So easily breakable…
Get out of my head! Now.
There was no answer, but Cam felt his disproval, as if he was in the chair across the room, glaring at the two lovers on the floor.
I will marry Charlotte.
She’s so frail. Look at your hands. They’re strong. We could easily do it. he baited.
No. You can’t have her. I won’t let you. I love her.
Did that stop you from, there was a pause. As if he couldn’t finish this thought. They cleared their throat. Gale. And my baby. Why should it stop me? She’s right there. Her neck’s exposed… easily done away with. The words were made to linger, really give time to think about it.
You know that’s different. She was going to leave you. Charlotte loves me back.
If it wasn’t for your precious Charlotte, Gale wouldn’t have wanted to leave me, he spat. There was a low growling from deep in his throat.
“Cam?” Charlotte asked quietly.
“Shhh,” he answered, putting his hand reassuringly on her shoulder.
Mike’s hand crept slowly up to her neck. So easily breakable, he tempted once again, placing his large palm over her neck. She sighed under his touch.
No, was Cam’s faded thought. But that was a weak protest compared to the growing anger bubbling inside them.
It was her fault. All her fault… Mike growled.
There was a short yelp that cut off as his huge grasp constricted until he heard a snap. He didn’t stop, though. The hand kept crushing and constricting. Mike grinned. When he was finally finished, he got up, stepped over the body and picked up her hand. He looked at the ring that rested on her finger. She didn’t deserve it. Cam had been much more brutal. But that could have been because they were both angry. Gale had been trying to leave them, after all. All because she found out about Charlotte.
Mike slipped the ring from her finger, slipped it into his pocket and straightened up. He watched the body, blood dripping from her open lips.
“Whore,” he said, kicked her in the stomach. Her body gave way easily. It wasn’t even satisfying.
Shut up! Cam screamed.
“Oh, just get over it. This is all her fault,” Mike growled, lumbering over to the recliner that gave him a good view of the body. He loved the feel of Cam cringing and crying. Vengeance really was sweet.
It was only a matter of time, really, until the evidence lead the police there. His finger prints were all over the bodies, the knife, the car. They hadn’t covered their tracks well. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to. So they waited, both grieving alone while together. Self-destruction embodied.
They were surprised they hadn’t heard the car pulling up, so the banging at the door startled them. They glanced up, waiting for it. There were shouts, but they didn’t bother listening to what they had to say.
The door slammed open, and the police looked around anxiously, pointing their guns every which way.
“Oh, God,” one of them muttered. Mike grinned, watching their faces.
“You, there!” another one shouted, pointing their wavering gun at them.
“Yes?” Mike answered.
“What’s your name?”
“Micheal Cameron Flowers,” he answered simply.
“Alright, you’re under arrest,” the man who was pointing the gun at him said, coming over to hand cuff him. The police led him downstairs and to the car. They didn’t struggle. Honestly, they might have been able to take the guy, he was much smaller than them. But neither cared anymore. What did they have to live for?
In the car, Cam spoke up first. “You know, it was me.”
“What was you?” the cop asked quickly.
“I killed them. The baby and the woman. And I liked it,” he spat.
“You sick bastard,” the cop muttered. He ground his teeth as he tried to focus on driving.
“I killed that woman in there too,” Mike said, less vicious. “It was her fault, though. She deserved it.”
“No, she didn’t!” Cam protested immediately.
“Alright, quiet back there!” the cop shouted, obviously unnerved.
They didn’t speak for the rest of the ride there. And when the cop pulled into the driveway and escorted them out of the car, they didn’t say a thing.
After they were put into a cell, the cop - he was one of those awfully cliché looking cops, with the mustache that looks like a comb and a bald spot taking up the entire top of his head - leaned against the wall, next to one of his buddies.
Out of earshot from Mike, he said, “We got a whack-job in that cell now. He was talking to himself in the car. But he confessed to three murders, so go figure.”
The other cop shrugged and bit his donut, sprinkling white powder on his deep blue uniform, looking much like the snow that was beginning to fall outside, covering the muddy boot prints leading into the building.
...
