6th Floor Shooter || #Wattys2017

V

// 22 November 1963// 17:11 // The Carousel Club // Dallas, Texas//

"President Kennedy has been shot in Dallas, he has been shot in Dallas"

When the door to the dingy room was flung open, every essence of secrecy escaped into the burning Texas afternoon. Their scheming silence was shattered, and in its place, rang out shrill and ragged gasps of air. Although Ed could make out no more than a petite silhouette in the doorframe, he sensed their frantic rush.

The woman stepped inside, swung the heavy door back on its hinges, and rushed over to the owner of the establishment. A displeased scowl etched itself into his face. His nose scrunched slightly, deeply set eyes peering downward, and dreadfully delicate eyebrows furrowed, he simply shook his head ever so slightly.

"Don't it say closed ou' there? Why's e'eryone comin' in 'ere for?" The words were spat into the air like venom.

"I'm sorry, Mister Ruby... it's jus' that... Oh, it was a real horrible thing that happened today... it makes me wonder jus' what kind'a world we're living in. I was jus' listenin' to the radio at home with my children, an' oh, you jus' must hear what they were sayin... they're saying that they've found the shooter! You must listen." Shrill words floated through the stagnant room. Ed recognized the voice almost immediately as belonging to one of the dancers when the club was open, but he was more interested in her words than her identity.

They've found the shooter.

Instinctually, his head shot back and he threw his gaze over his shoulder, just to determine definitively if anyone had been watching him. He was faced only with the familiar sight of tattered dining booths and the ramshackle wooden stage in the corner, contrasting the deep maroon walls like night-and-day. His eyes faded back to the young woman. Like the bar owner, resentful tears traced rivers down the confines of her face and her customarily impeccable hair fell forward in tousled ringlets. Her tragically disheveled façade served as an uncontested epitome of the devastation roaring throughout country.

"They caugh' the goddamn bastard, did they?" Jack enveloped his fingertips around the already chipped glass mug. The translucent crystal imploded upon impact, sending sticky ochre fluid streaming onto the floor. When he shut his weary eyes, visions of the assassin's neck, bony and fragile, replaced the sight of the crumbling mug, and the dripping liquor like the blood that would ooze from the wounds he ached to inflict. Harshly angular shards of glass crackled like pop rock candy within his clenched fist; to him, the shrill fracturing was a perfect and satisfying rendition of shattering vertebrae. Scarlet radiated from the piercing wounds on his palm contrasting acutely with the white knuckles surrounding the glass splinters.

"I- I think so... They say his name is... Oswald, possibly? Lee Oswald? I hear they found a gun up in one o'the buildings an' they think he used it to shoot President Kennedy. Oh, it's jus' so tragic." Tears of heartache returned and infiltrated her facial features. Stumbling, she reached tan hand over her anguished face and dove headfirst into Jack's blazer. Ed remained as still as a statue beside him, too shocked about the information to do anything more than slowly exhale the breath he was unaware he had been holding. His lungs shrieked with burning protest, as a sickening pain traversed through his veins. It was as if his heart had been branded with ice cold guilt, but every square inch of his skin was charred with reproach.

He watched as the woman's body was violently overtaken by vehement sobs, but her tears were silent. From his vantage point, he caught the familiar fragrance of her perfume... a subtle vanilla lavender, exactly like his Verna used to wear.

That 'goddamn bastard' is right... he's taking the fall for this? He was never supposed to be a part of this. Fuck, if he gets killed, he'll get the credit. It's my name on that gun, ain't it? Those dense pigs don't know shit. It was my plan. I shot the President.