Five Measly Dollars - Part 1

As I stared at the money in my hand, I simply couldn't believe that I killed a guy all for 5 dollars. What leaded me to do this? How did I get like this? Was this all simply a bad dream? I felt my blood run cold, even though I felt the morphine surge through my blood. It didn't help. It just made me dizzy, disoriented because of this man's death. When I heard the sirens from far away, I knew it was time for me to leave. I gingerly took the notepad that the cashier was holding. It was sticky from the dried blood, which didn't help my shaking hand. I wrote a small note to the officers saying that the family of the cashier needed to hear the news. I also said I was tragically sorry. As I ran from the convenience store, I could already hear the screech of tires and yelling voices saying "Stop sir! You are a witness!" But I wasn't listening to them. I ran. Ran from the store, the police, from the man's death, and from the family's sorrow. The next day as I look at the TV news, the report of a convenience killer made me shudder. Why would someone be so cruel to people, even when they only stole five dollars? A few seconds later all the details of last night come rushing back, and I feel waves of emotion flow over me like a bucket of water. I didn't feel like I should have robbed the store, but also I was sorry for the family of the cashier. That night was the scarring moment of my life, in a sense. Even though I'm just a 21 year-old, I shouldn't cry, but I did. That's when I reminded myself about my friends and how they pressured me into alcohol. Those drinks not only made me tougher, but made me weaker at the same time.