Anonymous Anthology

I Got It

I GOT IT

He rolls his sleeve and sits on a chair made of wood, the creaky sounds breaks the silence in the room. The stuffy air keeps circling around and around. The dim light from outside world comes from a small square window on the corner, the only way to breathe life, to sustain whatever in this room.

He breathes in the cigarette roll, deep. Feels the nicotine on his head spreading, let it fill through his respiratory system and let them live there at least for twenty years. Proud. He is proud of himself.

The room is only less than his bedroom, fits for two grand pianos. How can a small cramped room mess up with his sanity for almost 20 years straight without missing a day. They was always sending him here, to this room, to fix his attitude. But it came out the opposite way. He's almost 28 and still wonder how he even survive.

But now, no. That day is over. It's his turn to regret another fifty years in advance knowing that he had lost his Mama and Dadda. Oh, don't worry. He's fine, he kept them on small jugs upstairs. Very fine jugs, made of porcelain somewhere in Taiwan. He can see himself when staring at it. The glossy jugs makes the room so luxurious than it was before.

He doesn't think what his life will be after the fourth killing. He doesn't feel a thing. There's no love, hate, scared, panic or anything. He wants to feel it, he's actually believe he will regret everything in the end. But not now.

There's a sign of movement from the two people in front of them. They're still young, shallow and somehow look so naïve. The boy groans softly, trying to move his broken ribs and legs. The girl shivers as she finally could open her eyes and stares at her naked body, full of scratches and blood.

"Let us live, please. I'll do anything." a hoarse shaky voice from the boy's mouth.

"Like you will?" he spits.

"Please." The girl cries, silently.

"Try to remember what have you done for the past 48 hours. I'll give you time." He stands up and make a creaky sound from the chair. He breathes the cigarette for the last time and put it off.

He walks closer to the adolescents, ties them with rope. Both of his hands make a knot he had learnt once in high school. Going in and out, in and out. He uses the chair to tie the rope on the ceiling and make the boy stands up. He does the same to the girl. Ignoring that they're start to cry so loud and grasping for air, and screaming help.

In fact, they can't. The air drives them dizzy, their faces starts to redden. Their voices faded. The dust fulfilled their head, they start to cough.

"Stay here, just remember what you have done and I'll be back for good."

He wants them to believe that he'll be back for good. For good really. His steps are heavy, he wants to believe that they are good too. But they did things unforgivable. He's about to do the same thing.

He closes the door behind him, the room is airtight so once he closes it, not even a single particle comes out of it.

As he press the button, he drank ten pills and lay down on a bed with the glossy jugs beside him.

"Don't worry, I got it." He whispers to sleep. A forever sleep.

The gas fulfill the small cellar room don't even leave any corner. In a mere five seconds, it eats up the room.

They can't see each other, trying to fight the gas but it stays. No matter how hard they try to blow the gas away, they will just replace the oxygen with the gas. They breathe it in. Their pupils widened. They can feel their chest so tight, the air was worse and it get worsen now. Things are getting blurry, and then faded. A perfect darkness, a perfect sleep.

Let the angel of death take them away slowly and leaving the absolute silence on this house.

No one could explain what happened. Not even a single letter.