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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Crime/Gangster · #1276169
Murder of a person that had changed his life....
By: enchantress

         “So you’re backing out?” I gave Alan a perplexed look, as if that would somehow change his mind. I knew that what we were about to do was way too risky but there was no other option. Both Alan and I were in dire need for money and this job was willing to pay more than that.

         “I dunno, dude. It’s just not my thing, ok?” He replied, rubbing the back of his neck in the process. Alan wasn’t smart but those were the lamest excuse you could here from a college drop-out. Perhaps too much babbling about nonsense decreased his IQ by 50. What a fool.

         “Fine. Suit yourself but you’re out of the share.” I didn’t want to argue with a person who was obviously losing his sanity. I marched off before he could say another stupid thing to stop me. If ever they found out about his betrayal, that’s his problem. It had nothing to do with me. I was already determined to do this----no matter what it takes. Veronica had that sneer on her face as she gave Alan that what-a-loser look.

         It was a silent night. The loud urban noises weren’t able to penetrate the thick fog that ensnared the docks. A row of identical warehouses came into view as we entered the front gate. It wasn’t locked. The screeching sound of rusty metal against the cold pavement was supposed to be unbearable but somehow…it wasn’t.  Only a number plastered on the iron door, in red paint, distinguished one from the other. The warehouse we were looking for was at the far end--- number 13. The door was moldy and rusty, which had given us the hint that it wasn’t used recently. Lifting the iron bar from the metal slots, I kicked the door, producing a loud thud.

         It was dark. A puff of dust greeted us as we entered the murky structure. Guided by my blurry vision, I could tell that numerous boxes were stacked on both the left and right side. Taking caution, I gestured Veronica to follow behind me.

         “Hello!!!! Anybody here?” There was no reply except for the echoes that ricocheted from wall to wall. There wasn’t a single soul except for us. I reached for my cell phone and contacted the boss.

         ‘They’re not here. What’s the plan?” I asked. It was ridiculous. The cowards were later than us. Perhaps saving sometime before the grim reaper sends them to oblivion.

         “Wait.” The hung up tone sounded.

         So we did. It wasn’t long until we heard strident honks just outside the warehouse. An old man in casual clothing entered. He approached us without hesitation and thrust the black suit case he was holding in our direction. He was up to something. I could feel it. Griping my revolver tighter, I ordered the man to drop the suit case and take five steps back. I signaled Veronica. She swiftly snatched the suit case and returned behind me. I remembered the boss’ orders----no witnesses.

         A gunshot. The old man was now lying in a pool of blood---his own blood. I was aghast when I realized that the bullet was from my revolver. Trembling and sweaty, I tried to calm myself. Alan came running in as soon as he heard the shot. He was mortified himself when he saw the lifeless old man. He looked at me with those terrified eyes. At the back of my mind, the boss’ words echoed. No witnesses.

         Police cars and ambulances crowded outside. I stared at the medical men who were busy placing the dead bodies in stretchers. No one had noticed me yet. I wanted to sneak away, to hide in a place where no one would find me. But I was immobilized. No matter how hard I try, my limbs---practically my whole body---was in paralyzed mode. I called out to Veronica for help but she was already gone. And so was the suitcase.

         “You there!! Stand up and place your hands above your head…NOW!!!” A policeman barked. Startled, I obeyed him, my eyes focused on the revolver in his hands. Two other policemen grabbed my hands and cuffed them. They escorted me to the car. A few minutes had passed since I was trapped in the vehicle. I was sleepy. I closed my eyes but I wasn’t asleep yet. The policemen started talking.

         “What’s with this dude?”
         “He’s suspected of killing the old man and the kid. Alan Williams---right! That’s the name. Pity he was killed by his own best friend.”

         Tears suddenly poured down my cheeks. They just flowed without control but I didn’t hold them back.

         It’s been ten years now. The crimes I had committed still remained in my nightmares, haunting me occasionally. Thinking back, I realize that I was bought. My greediness for money bought my soul and made me the despicable monster that killed my best friend. It was actually my first time to kill someone. I regretted it ever since.

         One person has only one chance to live and making the right decisions is what makes it worthwhile. We should not be fooled by the many desires we covet but rather we should treasure things that will make our future better.
© Copyright 2007 Luna Rosendahl (enchantress at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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