A small boy walked the bustling street. He wove in and out of the crowd like he had done it hundreds of times before. The people around the boy were mostly lower class, in a rush to get the cheapest buys of the morning in the cool dense air.
He quietly scoffed at the passing pedestrians and strode up to a food stand he was particularly loyal to. He brushed his mid-length dark brown hair out of his stellar blue eyes. The man running the stand cut him a sly look and handed him the usual package.
The boy pulled his wallet out swiftly and passed the man his money. He saw the man glance at the tally marks sewed into the wallet before the boy quickly put the wallet away.
The boy hastily left the stand, package in hand. The trip back to his small space in the back of his father's dark basement was not far. He made it there in no time, assuming his dad was on a hit.
He rummaged around for a bit, then sat down in a rickety old chair, pulling out his wallet and cradling the package in his lap. He ran his hand over the smooth surface of the wallet. The wallet was made of human flesh, people that were now deceased. His wallet was different than others though. It had no tally marks etched into the front. Each tally mark stands for one human being killed by the owner of the wallet.
The boy let out a sigh and reached to open the package. Enclosed in the wrapping was a newfangled version of what the doctors said would be a cure. The boy threw a few of the pills back into his throat and swallowed.
He stowed the medicine for his disease in an old trunk just in time for his father to come trudging down the stairs. he held out his hand, waiting for his on to show him at least one tally mark, to finally bring honor to the family. But he didn't. The boy shook his head in shame as his father looked at him with disgust.
His father pulled a revolver out of his belt and trained the tipp on his son's head. His finger barely hesitated on the trigger before shooting, blood spattering the father and walls.
Years later, the father lies in bed alone, no one to comfort him. He was scared of death yet it traveled fast. He felt regret behind his eyes and his life flash before him as he laid dying of his dead son's blood infecting disease, AIDS.
