Life On The Murder Scene (Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge)

Part 3 - Demons

   God, is this guy serious? I wouldn't trust him, would I?

   Helena is waiting for me.

   "It may seem wrong but you're actually doing something good! You're keeping the evil off the streets! You just aim at them, shoot, and off you go. The souls automatically will go to me but you have to use this gun or else it's pointless. If you lose this, I'm going to kick your ass."  He said as he pretended to fire and handed the gun back to me. "They're bad guys. They deserve it. They deserve it."

"I'm not going to murder someone."

"Don't you want Helena back? Don't you want to be with her again?" He asked. He knew the answer.

"Yes bu-"

"I would tell you to take your time to think about this but I'm impatient and you need to make a decision. Deal or no deal? The choice is yours."

I really wish he wasn't serious. I'm not going to kill someone for my own selfish reasons. I was becoming light-headed and my cheeks were heating up. Oh, how I wanted to run and hide. I wanted to punch him. I wanted to punch myself. I was confused and my thoughts were blurry. Where, oh, where could my baby be?

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"I can't help it!" I smiled. 

Her lips curled up as she giggled. Helena played with the frays on the bottom of her light blue jean shorts. Her hair was messy as could be. She never tried too hard to make it look nice when we went to places like this. Stray hairs stuck up and curled around her forehead. Her hair fell over her shoulders with careless perfection. Her old Slipknot shirt became a collection of holes at the bottom while she simultaneously became a collection of carelessness. Her eyes were constellations and my skies were endless.

We stood in the middle of a book store located not far from our apartment. I stood by her as we aimlessly buried our faces into the shelves filled with manga and fiction. That's what Helena was into as well as a variety of classic horror novels. I looked for just about anything interesting.

" Adam! " she exclaimed cheerfully. "Dude, I was looking everywhere for this book."

She held the book up to her chest and squeezed it tight against her breasts as if she was trying to shove it into her chest or find a place for it in her heart.

I can't remember what the name of the novel was, what it was about, what it looked like, or why she wanted it.

We walked to the register. That was two weeks ago.

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I was scared. If I didn't do this, I would never get to see Helena again. If I did, what would there be to lose? I could surely accomplish this, right? I looked up at the man who stood before me then looked back down at the pitch black floor. It was as if we were standing on nothing.

There was nothing above. There was nothing below.

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   I suddenly woke up in a narrow alleyway next to a large green dumpster that stunk of rotting fruit and soggy, moldy cardboard. Who knows what else. Was I dreaming? How did I end up here?

  I started to panic. I sat up and frantically searched my inside jacket pocket looking for my cell phone to call Helena or for any clue that might hint what happened and why I was here. Instead, I pull out a golden revolver. Now I remember. Dammit.

   "There we are! Adam, my boy! How ya feelin', buddy?" Oh gosh, he's just stalking me now. He emerged from behind the dumpster, hunched in an odd way. The smile he plastered on his face was not a genuine one. It was what he used to cover up his heavy breathing and a drained look in his eyes.

"What's wrong?" My mouth tasted of regret.

   "Don't worry about it."