Morituri te Salutamus

Chapter 6

Cassus (Emptying)

FAKE IT UNTIL YOU [cant] MAKE IT

Sixth in Line

To be honest, I don't think anyone thought you'd get this far. I sure didn't, because I've been procrastinating getting this done. Writing will never be my favorite thing to do. Fancy words, I usually leave them to Tenebris or Vilitas. To get to the point, plain and simple, is the easiest. So this'll be short and sweet.

In school, I was never the star student. I wasn't a student half the time I was there, anyway. Coming to a place like that five days a week was a lot to ask of a pubescent teen. They didn't care and neither did I. At the end of my earthly life, I probably racked up twenty detentions that would never be attended. Most of the time I went I was showing off the newest DUI I'd received or how many stores I'd shoplifted from in the past week. Basically, social media bragging for a kid who didn't even have a Facebook account. Occasionally I'll walk through the hallways of the building to see old teachers, friends, love interests. It mainly just arouses old regrets and memories I'm not ready to visit again just yet. Adults there were supportive in the worst way--the honest, considerate way. Not a condescending feel or a scolding a child, but trying to sincerely help a juvenile delinquent.

On my last day, I decided to go to school for my teachers' sakes. It was 9/11 Remembrance Day so all classes were supposed to educate us on that fateful day. It mainly consisted of sobbing chicks and guys who'd rather be in the gym doing something worth-while. I actually found the whole thing quite interesting contrary to those around me. The day went by rather quickly and I was on the streets once again. The rest of my afternoon was spent in the movie theatre, watching whatever was interesting. The dark sky outside reminded me of how worried my parents would've been, if I was a normal teenager. Right now my mother would be crying silently, my father drinking scotch. That was when I made the decision.

Jogging home, I slipped into the garage and stole my father's Glock 15 then walked to the nearest convenience store. The small bell jingled its tune as my numb hands pushed the glass door. The chilly September air blew through my jacket and into the store. The gun in my back pocket felt like lead as I leaned across the counter to speak to the cashier.

"Hey, can you get a couple beers? I've had a long night and really need a drink."

"Sure, can I see your I.D.?"

"I said, can you get a couple beers? Not in the mood, buddy."

"Whoa there, just calm down. I just need to see some identification and you'll be on your way."

My hands drew the weapon and aimed it at his head.

"Beer, and all the money in the register, now. Or I shoot your pretty little head."

"I-I...Okay..."

The middle-aged man scrambled to the fridges behind him and pulled out two six-packs, sliding them across the counter. Keys on his elastic waistband jingled frantically as he dumbfoundedly tried to open the register without them. A few fifties drifted into my hands.

"Please, just go, I don't want any trouble."

"Oh, I'm sure. You won't be having anymore from now on."

Fingers like ice pulled the trigger and the solid bullet went through his forehead, leaving a scarlet imprint. I reached across the counter and took the man's cell phone. A sleep-deprived woman answered the emergency call as I tried to accurately describe my attire while preparing myself to die.

"Yes, he's about, uh...six foot one, dark hair swept up, a few scars across his left cheek and a light leather jacket."

"Okay, thank you. We have cars on the way. Are you injured at all?"

"No, but one guy isn't as lucky. That dude was insane."

Hanging up, I ran out the door as fast I could, going down the street towards the blaring lights and sirens. I drew my gun and loaded it. A pale face peeked itself out the window out of one of them and missed me by miles. Come on, hit me. Just do it already. The car zipped by and did a u-turn. The ones behind it followed suit, until I was surrounded in the parking lot. I aimed and spun, shooting randomly. No grunts, nothing. But they didn't miss one shot.

Thank you.

No matter the cost, I wanted to die then and there. If I had to tackle one of them, or find a car in jump in front of, it had to end. My emptiness was overwhelming to the point where the pleasures that most people love bored me. I wasn't sure who I was trying to be anymore, so I ended the facade with a bang. There wasn't any new scars or memories to make that I'd treasure. Moving on from that life I lived was just beginning something wonderful. Call me crazy, but I'd felt dead for too long doing the things they said would make me happy. Alcohol. Drugs. Anything, I did it. I went beyond redemption and that was fine with me.

Don't mess up like me. Live your life like you want to, not how other people told you to. Trust me, you'll be much happier that way and won't end up like me. Anyone can tell you that their strategy is better but you can't trust them. Do you. What makes you smile, makes you happy, makes you feel alive--keep doing it. Don't care about what they said was right or wrong. I wish someone told me that when I was conscious enough to care.