Diamondback

5: Guilt And Tragedy

It's not my fault.

She was screaming. I had to do something. It's not my fault.

God, a murderer. A killer. That's not me. No, that's not me. My hands moved on their own. I couldn't help it. I couldn't stop myself. I squeezed and squeezed until her last breath had left her body. Until I felt her blood on my fingers. What's...What's wrong with me?

No one saw us yet. No one heard us yet. Yet. The sidewalk was still full of self-absorbed citizens. I guess they didn't bother to help a screaming woman in need. Did they not care? They had to, right?

She'll wake up. Yeah, she'll wake up. She's not dead. She's not dead. She's not dead. She's just...unconscious. I wouldn't kill someone. I'd never kill someone. I don't have to worry. She'll be okay.

But I still have to be careful. I had to go before someone else could see me. Walking out in the open half-naked with this woman's blood on my hands would only make me a bigger target. Teleporting from rooftop to rooftop was out of the question 'cause running out of magic would practically kill me. I had to get out there. But how?

I sized up the (definitely alive) woman, lying -- um -- resting on the ground. Her built figure might be a bit difficult for me to lug around. Compared to her, I was a pretty small guy, despite being overly fit for my age. Her fur coat. That might just work.

Apologizing to her cold body, I dragged her behind the dumpster and removed her coat. She wouldn't mind if she wakes up and one little thing's missing, right? Luckily, the coat was a good fit for me, covering the entirety of my body including my spikes and horns. (I considered putting on her heels too, but it's not like I could walk very far in those. Nobody can.)

The coat's right pocket weighed heavily. As I clawed around in each of the pockets, a wallet found its way into my palm. Looking inside, this woman was STACKED. Benjamins upon Benjamins! She wouldn't mind if I just, uhh...took it? Nah, nah, of course not. Rich folks wouldn't even notice a missing credit card.

Holding her jacket close to me, I inched my way towards the bustling sidewalk. Standing around this lady's de...cold body won't solve anything. As I stepped out into the light, only unexcused pushes and shoves greeted me. Nothing like a big city welcome. The inescapable flow of the crowd dragged me along down the street towards any direction it desired. Trying to keep my head down as much as possible, I searched for anything that resembled a grocery store. So far, there was nothing but corporations, trinket stores, cafes, movie theaters, parks...

Huh. This city's beautiful, isn't it? I wonder why no one steps outside of themselves to appreciate it. Maybe it gets boring after seeing it every waking morning of your life. Sure beats living in a busted up one-story "home" in the middle of the dark woods.

That's when I saw it. A brightly lit, double-doored store. Absolute heaven on earth. Everything about it was agonizingly fluorescent save for its sign. Matter of fact, where was the sign? Getting closer, it seemed like the letters were entirely scratched off. Well, I've seen worse, so it looked trustworthy enough. Like the type of stores you'd see on TV with smiling models in cheaply branded clothes, dancing around to forgettable pop music with overpriced fruits or back-to-school items in their hands. A Stereotypically Bigshot Store That I Really Shouldn't Care About. ASBSTIRSCA. A fitting name if I do say so myself.

Officially forcing my way out of the crowd with mumbled apologies, I tip-toed through the automatic sliding doors, trying my best to look as normal as a monster could possibly be. My own image on the surveillance camera must've been daunting. Here I am, this tall, stinky, oddly shaped figure with an oversized fur coat, no shoes, and no shirt. God, I probably look like a flasher.