Gray Ghost - License to Kill

Chapter 3 - Breaking Point

Stephanie watched as I left Ms. Jones house and could see the pain and hurt on my face. She spoke to me, and I kept walking as if she didn't say a word. She didn't try and stop me or run behind me, she just watched. She knew that look and the pain it was hiding.

I went in the house and straight to my room. My grandmom saw me walk in, she saw the tears and the pain.

"You ok son" she said to me.

"I don't want to talk" I said to her as I kept walking past her and into my room. I shut the door and laid down on my bed crying. How was something like this happening again? Why was God being so cruel to me? Why was God testing me and putting all this death around me? Why was God putting all this guilt on me? Why me?

I sat in the room and my grandmom could hear me crying. She knew that I would need some alone time. She went in the kitchen and started baking as I sat in there contemplating life. I sat up and looked in the mirror crying and thinking.

"Stew baby, I baked some cookies" Grandmom said from the other side of the door. She didn't open the door, she was trying to let me process it the best way I could.

"You want to share some cookies with me" she said.

"No, I just want to be alone" I yelled back through the house.

"OK baby, I am here if you need anything" she said as she took her plate of cookies and walked back to the kitchen. Grandmom sat down in her chair in the kitchen crying. She knew I was in pain and knew there was nothing she could do about it but give me time and space until I was ready to talk.

I saw a razor blade on the dresser as I was sitting there staring at the mirror. That was it, that was put there for a reason. I walked over and grabbed the razor blade off the dresser and went and sat back on the bed.

Here I was looking in the mirror crying with a razor in my hand. In that mirror I saw my three-year-old self so innocent and excited walking in the house to share my ice cream with my mom. Ice Cream represents a sense of utopia. Ice cream is happy and joyous. Kids eating ice cream is the epitome of innocence and happiness.

I was walking in with a cone full of innocence, euphoria and happiness smiling and ready to share this with my mom. I opened the door and there she was lifeless staring at me. I dropped the ice cream in the doorway.

I stood there staring at the ice cream on the floor. It was not a cone full of milk and sugar I just dropped on the floor. I wasn't staring at this wonderful blend of milk, butter, sugar and eggs that created the most joyous experience for kids all over the world, this joy called ice cream.

I was staring at the innocence and happiness that life had knocked out of the hands of a three-year-old forever. I was looking at the ground at the end of my life as I knew it.

I could see the ice cream in that mirror.

Then I saw a reflection in the mirror of a pair of red and black tennis shoes under my bed. As I looked at those shoes, I saw those boys running away with my dad's bag with our shoes in them.

I looked down and on the back of my hand was blood and a chunk of human flesh. I just looked at this red chunk of matter on my hand. This wasn't dirt, or food, or a piece of trash resting on the back of my hand. This was a piece of my dad's brain matter.

I slowly turned to the right to look at my dad laying there. His eyes wide open looking back at me. He is looking at me as if he was asking for help.

"Help me" I saw in his eyes. "Why didn't you help me" his eyes said to me. There was one stream of blood that captured my attention as if dripped from the bullet hole in his head. I watched as it rolled down his forehead and past his eyes. Past the eyes that were staring at me and were lifeless.