Some Things Never Change: A Book Dedicated to Absolutely Nothing At All

Her

I watched her from outside. She was beautiful beyond words. A blonde goddess in the perfect teen body. I wasn't so bad myself: pale, thin, muscular frame, tall, black hair, green eyes. I wasn't perfect, but I still felt good. It was August, 8:30 on a cool Wednesday night, when I watched from outside her window. It was easy, this stalking business. Keep quiet, don't hesitate, and don't ever stop convincing people that you are placidly normal. Me? Well..... you could say I have a bad habit of being morbidly curious about people and their patterns. Haven't you ever seen a leather jacket-clad teen and asked, " Is he really that cool? Or is it just a facade? Or how that blonde girl is so lively around pit bulls, but shy away from people like their the ones that'll bite?" Questions, waiting for me to follow my path to the answer. So here I sit, outside Mindy's house, waiting for something to happen. That's when the noise  approached. A low, throaty growl. The growl of a very angry dog, who's pink giraffe I've just trodden on. I look....AND about 110 lbs. of muscle with about 3 inches of teeth looks right back. It was low to the ground, short. But it made up for height with weight and appearance. It looked like the type of dog that'd tear you balls off and happily sleep like a baby. I began my escape by backing up slowly towards the gate that separated this property from the unknown woods of the great beyond. I crept slow, turning toward the dog house, when it snarled loudly. I spun around quickly and ran, silent, but swift, across the newly mowed lawn. The behemoth of a dog took interest and followed instantly, closing the distance. I leapt up with both legs, hooking my feet on the edge of the overhang on the house's roof. Pushing with every ounce of my lower body, I managed to propel my self up, and, flailing wildly, over the fence. I landed with a heavy thud, sliding down a steep incline, and into waist deep mud....................

As I came to, I saw flashlight beams were flying around in the nearby woods, deflecting numbly off of the few trees that were able to sustain themselves in this swampy muck. One or two beams found their way into my eyes, blinding me badly. It was around 2 in the afternoon the next day when I came to. Looking around the room dazedly, I noticed a few things: I wasn't in my own bed, this wasn't a familiar house, and I was dressed in comfortable clothes that weren't mine. I moved, and there was something holding my legs down. I looked, and a muscular, heavy, well-fed pit bull dove at me, licking my face, soaking my hair and neck in the process. I was amidst a massive flood of pit drool when a woman came in, shouting, and cussed the dog out, telling him to go the hell outside. The dog, looking pathetically defeated, obeyed, and jumped down onto the floor. And finally, with one last hurt glance, he crept away somewhere else. The woman stood, catching her breath, then turned to look at me. She was pretty, tall, slender, with long, curly brown hair that flowed well past mid chest, which was impressively sized, and had crystal blue eyes that sparkled in the sunlight. Smiling, she asked, "So......it's great your not dead, huh?", smiling impishly as she said so. I smiled my award winning smile that makes me believable, and replied,"Not bad actually. If I could wake up to a pretty face like yours every day, that'd really make my day." She giggled timidly, covering her mouth as she did so, and turned to leave. "Anything you need? Clothes, food, how about a glass of water?" I nodded and asked if I please could have some coffee if they had it. She smiled once more, giving one last look of curiosity, and then swayed out the door. I sat up for a few minutes, then stood, making the bed. I checked my body in the mirror for wounds, and found a few nasty purple bruises the size of my hand. I took my shirt off, and found some odd red marks on my left bicep, and some near my abdomen, and even a couple on my neck and throat. I heard the door open, and the girl walked in from before. She looked at me and dropped the cup of coffee. I put my shirt on and walked over to her. She gasped and stepped back and nearly slipped in coffee, falls get to the floor. I shot out my arm and hooked onto her before she fell. She regained balance, and pushed her hair back from out of her face, her smooth, pale skin flushing bright red. "I'm so so sorry! I'll....I...I'll c-c-clean this up!" I grabbed her hands before she picked up the bone white fragments that once was a cup. She stopped dead, and her hands began shaking, her face getting beet-red. I grabbed the fragments up from the floor, and threw the, into the waste bin, and helped her stand up straight. She regained composure and turned around, and marched, embarrassed, out of the room. I laughed as she left, causing her to slam the door. I looked around and found my wallet on the dresser near the window, with nothing misplaced. I.D. , $75, and a hall pass from fifth grade that needed to be disposed of, and that was about it. I threw th crumbling note into the trash, sitting down on the bed. I was about to doze off, when the door opened. That's when she came into the room. At 2:40 P.M.,  Thursday, July 19, 2015, I met her. The girl I'd followed from work. The girl I'd painstakingly stalked for days through rain and sun. The girl who was timidly afraid of people, was here, standing in front of me. She smiled and sauntered over to me. She spoke quietly, and very little, " I have a glass of water for you. My family would like to meet you when your ready to come downstairs. Mea. I'd like to get to know more about you. You look very interesting to me." She spoke in a hushed manner, but very clearly. It was very soothing to hear. "Susie, don't bother him please. He'll probably come out when he's ready, ok? Stop worrying." The older girl,said, jumping us both. " It's alright," I said politely, " I needed another reason to get up, anyways." They both giggled childishly and blushed, the younger sister, Susie, standing up and slowly leaving with the older sister. "Ok, Mindy. Let's leave him be for a little while." I stood, gathering the last of my strength, and walked out into the hall. I took a left, reaching the landing, and descended the stairs. We were almost down when Susie slipped, knocking me over, and landing on me. I slid under her to the bottom, where we hit the floor with a slam. Bruised tissue on my legs screamed in hot torment, begging to be left alone. Susie merely looked up at me, smiling, and giggled a bit. I laughed too, and despite the deep burning in my legs, I helped her stand. I brushed off, and chuckled. I let the two sisters guide me to where the rest of the family was eating lunch. I stood in the doorway, hesitant, when their mother, Deirdre, invited me in. I sat down at my designated place at the table, waiting to be served whatever was for lunch.
" So..... I hear your a real ladies man."
I shrugged, and said,"I wouldn't be surprised to hear that."
He smiled, saying," Well, these girls tell me your very polite. And a loud sleep-talker."
" I try to be nice. At least to ladies. I've always been a sleep-talker. It's been a quirk I've had since I could speak."
"Well, I don't mind having you stay a while. You seem to be able to keep our house safe. You good at keeping an eye on things?"
"Ever since my parents died, I've been able to take care of myself fairly well. I've been on my own since 14. I've been working at Taco Bell since I could work the kitchen. I cleaned up after we closed, and took off to the apartment I rented. I've rented it since I could earn money, even working to earn the privilege to live in the place."
" Your kidding me! How'd they go?"
"Peter!" His wife, Linda screeched.
" That's alright, ma'am. They died in a botched burglary. I was sitting on the couch, with them asleep in their chairs, when the man broke in through the window. He screamed and threw me to the floor, kicking me in the head. He waved a gun around, pointing it at my parents, just awakened, and told them give him all their money, and any jewelry they had. They complied, and he dropped my mother's diamond ring. He reached down, and my father smashed a glass cup into his face, cutting shards into his eyes. He pulled the trigger, sending a spray of bullets along the wall, killing my father and mother. He kept pulling the trigger until it clicked repeatedly like a broken typewriter. The police kicked in the door and charged in, opening fire on the man, bullets tearing their way into his body, killing him before he hit the floor. Then they saw me, amidst a pool of crimson blood, both my parent's and the attacker's, shocked and paralyzed by fear. It's taken me this long to come to grips with the fact that their not coming back, but I still play that night over in my mind. It still kills me. Every night, when I'm asleep, I dream about seeing them again, at a dinner table like this one. Every time, bullets rip their way through them, shot from some invisible attacker, tearing them to pieces, their blood blotting out everything in sight. I still wake up feeling like the blood never disappeared from that night, still warm and fresh, still metallic and steely, still sticky and untarnished by all this time that's gone by. It's still there in my mind, still stained into my skin, burned into my brain." After that, I sat and caught my breath, observing everyone's grim and sad expression. I drank some ice water and we all ate in silence. Fish tacos with sweet and sour slaw, and sweet potato fries. We ate and drank until the meal was over. I put my dish in the sink, and headed outside, through the large backyard, and over the fence into a large stretch of open, grassy, land. The girls walked out a minute later, sitting down on either side of me. We sat on the hill, a couple minute walking distance from the fenced area around the house. We sat watching the clouds, laying in the short, but robust grass that unfolded in mammoth blankets before us. We joked and talked for a good portion of the afternoon, the sun shining down upon us, casting a joyfully bright eye of warmth and happiness onto us. Then, as the sun went down, it got chillier. They each got closer, snuggling up to each side of me. I wrapped my arms around them, enjoying the feeling of the, pressed tightly against me. Susie, very thin, began to shake. "It's getting cold, you two. Time to get back." They each looked at me, eyes full of naïveté, and nodded. We walked, as a huddled group, to the house. Inside, it was much warmer to our relief. We each said good nights and headed for bed. We diverged paths when we got to my room, Susie's room being diagonally located across the hall, next to the bathroom. Mindy's down at the end of the hall. To my left, all the way to the end, was a suite-styled room where the parents slept. I got the guest room, which was comparatively larger than my own place. Just this room was bigger than my apartment! I crawled my tired, aching body into bed, and wrapped up in the enormous comforter they set out for me. My head hit the pillow and my eyes closed immediately.................

Large, grey room. Lights hung from chandeliers, dangling majestically from the ceiling, showering light onto everything. Large, dark oak (spruce, or walnut?) wooden furniture. Huge table, matching chair set. Polished silverware, gorgeously pristine china. My mother, in a nice red dress, diamond pendant and earrings hanging fashionably, short brown hair touched up nicely. My father, nice grey suit, pinstripe patterned, red tie, salt-and-pepper hair combed slickly, class ring and wedding band glinting slyly in the light. We were hammering on about some topic or another when the sound cut through the chatter. A sharp CLICK! ended our conversation, as we looked around, confused. Then the first one flew, the first shot followed by an enormous BANG! The bullet sluggishly dragged through the air in slow motion, a lazy black bug soaring in the air. After hours of waiting, it hit mom this time, slicing slowly through her upper arm, tearing tissue apart and flinging blood and torn meat behind her and onto dad. She jumped up, and another BANG! sounded off as a bullet snuck its way to her knee, cutting smoothly into the cartilage, and finally ramming itself through, bone and cartilage material grinding, resistant against the lead intruder that was the bullet. She landed in her chair, screaming in agony as her last bullet CLICKED! into the chamber, and the BANG! sent it on its way. I watched as it hit, just under her eye, to the left of her nose a bit, and the bullet popped her eyeball like a balloon, in a squirt of blood and eyeball juice. The bullet ripped and bounced around a bit before she lay forward, dead. My father shook her, and stood, screaming at the unseen killer, a loud BANG! silencing his shouts, as a bullet sheared of the top quarter of his head, spray painting the wall behind him with blown brains and last thoughts, and several small gouts of blood, pouring in streams, red mist flying all over.

I came out of sleep screaming for the man to stop. I was shaken awake by Peter, who slapped me awake and held me close to him and his wife, the two girls sleepily inquiring what the noise was all about. Peter waved them off to bed and they lazily slumped to their rooms. I sat and cried for about 10 minutes, letting all these years of pent-up feelings come pouring out. I fell asleep and they shut the light off and Peter sat on the small couch in my room, switching with Linda every so often, keeping an eye on me. The dream changed this time. The Richards' were all at the table with us..........

17 years later.
"Do I have remorse for my actions, yeah, I do. I wish more than anything that I could change what happened that night. I shot those people in cold blood. I took 11 hollow points to the chest, arms, legs, and one in the head, and I'm still alive. They were dead on the first shot. There isn't a day that doesn't go by that I wish I could take it all back. What's done is done, and their dead because of my actions, and my family will all have seen the last of me. They won't be able to say, "Hey, man. How are ya?" or "Howya doin', chum?". I won't ever hear anything but, "Fuck you, sick piece of shit." or "Rot in hell, you dirty fuckin sicko!" That's all I'll ever get to hear until the day I die. Then, who knows. I can't be forgiven for my sins. I'm most likely headed to Hell for what I've done. It's all I deserve really. I mean, what is a human life worth? It's priceless. Imagine, four lives. Priceless.........."

*Note: I wrote this one to be rather long, and added elements from a few short stories I've already written. Elements from "Obsessive Tendencies " and from "His Thoughts" mad this one feel special to me. I like reading this one. Granted, it's a bit of a longer read than my normal writing, but still serves,the purpose fairly decently. It's about midnight, so I'm about to curl up to a warm sweetheart for the night, cuz I need someone I can wrap my arms around. Peace. Also, shout outs to all my followers. I want you guys to give me ideas for my next book, it'll be a fresh new cake 🎂 loaded with new stories.