Dead Men Bleed

Home Sweet Home

My home isn't sweet. Don't let that title fool you. I live in a deteriorating apartment with roaches and thugs infesting the place. The living area and the kitchen blend together. The floor is decaying wood. Mold fouls up the air. Plus, a marriage next door is falling to shambles. Seriously, who lives in Dirtroad and stays decent? $300 says he's cheating.
Anyway, it's not all bad. I have a computer beside the living room's window. A mattress is laid out in the small bedroom. I clean my bathroom. Look past the decay, it's okay. On my computer desk, I spot a familiar face. A small figurine made of metal. It was my mother's last gift to me. I loved superheroes. And she got my favorite. I can't pronounce it. Arch-ar-ah fuck it. It was a Greek god saving people. His pose of holding a lightning bolt, ready to strike it down with a fierce, warrior face was an 18 inch nostalgia trip.
A mini fridge held leftover wings and cool beers. God, how I have been dreaming of dinner. It was 2am. Luckily, vigilantism is my job.
I drop myself onto the wheeled chair in front of the computer. I look at the figurine and smile.
"Did'ya miss me?" I ask it. Silence comes from the statue.
"Fuckin' A, Carin!! Get off my back!"
Shit.....the marriage at it again.
"No! You get home let as hell! You smell like a bar! I have every right to be upset!"
Carin and Davis Gord. Married for about two years. God, I wonder what keeps them together in the same bed.
"Christ's sake why don't you get off my back!"
They go at it for about ten minutes. I was fading out when I heard "WHACK" and some stuff breaking. A lamp? Picture? Either way, I wasn't having it.
I whipped my front door open and stormed to the last room dead ahead. More things shatter as I approach the door. Why even bother knocking?
The door snaps open as I drive my left boot into the cheap wood. Splinters fly around the doorway. I see Davis, wild eyed and inebriated.
"The fuck you doin' here?" He asks me. God, I smell the Jack Daniel's on his breath and he's not even close to me.
I ignore his question and invesitgate. Glass is shattered. It crunches beneath my feet as I enter the bedroom. Carin is in a fetal position, clutching her eye and crying uncontrollably. Her brown hair is all frizzed up. The white around her hazel eyes is as pink as bubblegum.
"HEY!" Davis shouts. Oh, just wait. He'll have my full, undivided attention.
I kneeled down to Carin's level, holding her chin up.
"Miss Carin," I called. "You're not gonna wanna see this. Go to my place, down the hall and third door on the left. 10-81. Don't go anywhere else and keep the door closed."
I aided her in standing and began to guide her out of her door. I watched her go down the hall. Once my door closed, Davis had my attention.
I takcled him and drove him into the wall. Dust and sheet rock floated about. The room shook from the impact. I was pretty proud of what I was doing as I threw a left hook into his ribs.
I quickly followed with a right uppercut. Poor bastard bit his tongue. Blood squirted from his mouth.
I grasped the collar of his shirt (wasn't too shabby) and tossed him toward the bedroom. He landed hard, making a big ass crater in the floor. He was crawling away, sobbing and whimpering like a little bitch.
"P-please lemme be." He cried. For God's sake, everyone is afraid of me.
Anyway, I snatched his ass up and dragged him into the bedroom. Again, I threw him, but into the closet. Wood snapped and crashed to the floor. I bet spinters got stuck in ass. I was too tired to carry this on. Luckily, I forgot to take my 9mm out of the holster on my hip. And the silencer was in my pocket. Oh happy day!
I pulled both of them out, casually screwing the silencer on the 9mm.
"Look, I'll level with you here." I started (monologue). "I hate deadbeat hubbies. I learned that they're the scum of the Earth years ago, but that's a different story. I can monologue about how you should change and all that hero bull crap. I'd rather kill you because I'm not gonna come home every night and hear how much you suck as a husbad."
I switched the safety off, cocked the gun and took aim.
"W-wait man!" He squealed. "I can change! I have a stash in the kitched if you want! Just don't kill me!"
Oh this is just too good.
"Well, ya should've been better, otherwise we wouldn't be here. But, you're generous. Y'know what I will take that stash."
Wait for it.
I extended a hand out to him. He sniffled and smiled as he grabbed my hand.
"Really?"
Wait for it.
"Oh, yeah. Not every guy does that."
As he stood up, I planted a bullet right from under his jaw. The bullet tore through his head like a heated blade cuts through a stick of butter. Blood erupted from the top of his head and splattered onto the ceiling. His body fell back into the closet.
Look, I know it's bad, but after reading the first chapter you should've seen this part coming.
I left the heap of shit in the closet as I helped myself to that stash (which was behind the fridge).
I returned to my place and opened the door with a small, chrome briefcase in hand.
Carin sat in my computer chair, still shaken pretty bad. She stood up.
"Is everything alright?" She squeaked.
I was pretty blunt to say the least.
"You're a widow now. Guys like him don't change. You, on the other hand, are a pretty wealthy young woman. Take his stash, don't look back, and don't come back."
She didn't cry or scream. She sat back down and rested her legs.
"I was wondering..." Oh crap, what's she gonna say? "Can I stay here for a little while? So I can uhm...plan things out."
Shit. My good nature..
"Sure. Just don't go in my closet."
Dammit Max. "Go bunk in the master bed. I'll take the chair."
She obeyed silently and groggily. After I rinsed my clothes from the blood stains, I slumped on the computer chair and slept like a newborn.