METANOIA

DOWNWARD SPIRAL

Barry was a bullet without a target. He needed one.

Barry lowered the sun visor and looked at himself in the mirror. His jaw hurt and, although mild, he had a black eye. He looked at his missing incisor. The man had hurt him badly. He wanted some sort of vengeance. He wanted to go to his house. That's where he met Seth too. Maybe he'd run into him there.

He was driving aimlessly in circles until he found himself staring at the house of the man that had punched him in the face. He had no idea how he managed to get there given his state. The house was brighter than he remembered, or maybe that was just the various chemicals in his system. The acid in his pockets was melting with his sweat.

He stopped the car, and waited for a sign the man was there, or maybe Seth.

His ears were ringing.

Nothing.

Impatient, he got out of the car as soon as he saw a shadow pass by one of the windows. He left Buddy and Lucy in the car, but when he spun around, they were magically behind him. He made a gesture toward the emptiness to shush them.

An odd rain started to sprinkle. He rushed to the house as he hated getting wet.

He had learned to ignore his new friends and their antics. As he walked through them, they burned to cinders only to appear beside him a second later. Barry approached the freshly painted patio. He climbed a handful of stairs and approached the turquoise wooden door with a bouquet of flowers in a circle.

The flowers threw him off guard as it seemed out of place. He was about to turn around and leave when he heard a familiar manly laugh from inside the house. It was the right house.

The laughter immediately intensified the ringing in his ears. Lucy whispered, "They are laughing at you, Barry." Buddy, meanwhile, was making a target with his hands next to the door knob. He winked at Barry once.

Barry wanted vengeance.

He wanted destruction.

But more importantly, he wanted power.

Having worked as a carpenter, he knew exactly where to kick. Buddy's target was merely an extension of what he knew. Barry settled back, gathered his strength, and putting his weight behind it, landed a titanic kick with his heel. The door was no match for him.

Adrenaline rushed through his veins as the door frame splintered and the door fell into the house.

His eyes adjusted to the interior in a split second.

A frail elderly woman with gray hair stared back at him in terror, while Barry stared at her in disbelief. His eyes darted around, searching for the man.

The woman opened her mouth, and a scream began to escape her throat.

Barry was untrained, and generally was a terrible shot in video games. He didn't have time to aim. His hand rose automatically in the general direction of her scream and the shot rang throughout the tiny house. Barry was surprised at the explosion of blood that sprayed out behind her head.

The shot nearly deafened him. He wasn't expecting it to be that loud.

Buddy exclaimed, "Holy shit," and pranced into one of the adjacent rooms. Barry wanted to shoot him as well, but instinctively knew it would be futile.

A young girl entered the hallway with the man behind her, his true target, rushing toward the commotion.

Barry instinctively took a shot at her chest, but missed, and hit the man in the throat. He grabbed his throat, gasping for air through the massive hole. The girl was still standing in shock as he steadied his aim and took the second shot at the girl that landed dead center of her chest, hurling her lifeless body over the man.

Barry walked up to the man calmly. He was crying as he struggled to breathe.

His confused eyes met Barry.

He was trying to say something, beg for his life perhaps.

Barry said simply,

"Who's the bitch now?"

Barry put two more shots in him as blood splattered on the walls and floor, shimmering as the chemicals rippled in his mind.

As he turned to leave, he heard an infant's cry coming from the living room.

Barry walked into the living room to find an infant wailing and alone. A thin smoke from the muzzle trailed behind him. The dust and bad care had made the old muzzle heat up. There was a single bullet left in the gun.

He walked up to the crib sorrowfully and saw an angelic face looking up at him. It was almost as if it knew, her blue eyes glossy with the tears that rolled down her plump cheeks.

Barry pressed the muzzle of his gun to the baby' forehead. The scorching gun burned the baby's flesh as she struggled to keep the immovable gun from her forehead. Her tiny strength was no match for Barry's monstrous might.

Barry pulled the gun back and looked in awe at the circular muzzle burn on the baby's forehead. Another work of art.

The baby's innocent cry rang in his now deafened ears.

"Stop it," he howled as if the baby was going to understand, and somehow make the ringing go away.

There were no more bullets left in his gun as Barry left the now silent house. His fist was covered in a spray of blood on top of the gunshot residue.

The rain had picked up the pace, with thunderstorms masking his offense.

It seemed Buddy and Lucy hated the rain too.

The whole affair was over in mere minutes. No witnesses.

Thunder wreaked havoc somewhere nearby as he hastily got into his car and drove off.