What Happened to Wyatt

03 ｌａｍｅｎｔａｔｉｏｎ

Isaac's replacement, Brian Murphy, has got to be one of the most insensitive, egotistical people I have ever met. I can't stand him and he can't seem to take a hint. Brian is on the shorter side, with crew cut brown hair and sunken eyes to match. Stubble covers both sides of his face and chin, as well as his upper lip. His first day he did nothing but complain. His second day he showed up an hour late and we had to cover what would have been his share of customers. When he did deign to show up he had the audacity to complain tenfold. It's our third day with Brian and earlier we all had to attend a mandatory drug-awareness presentation. The board has finally acknowledged Isaac's death. We're all coming out of the lounge where the meeting was held when Brian turns to face me.

"That was the biggest waste of time. We get it, smoking and drinking kill. Some people just have no restraint man, I don't get why we have to be punished because some people can't control themselves." Brian grumbles.

"It's not that simple," I reply curtly.

"Of course it is. Hey, is it true some guy died right in the middle of aisle four not too long ago? Somebody said he's the reason we had to sit through that snooze-fest. I mean, don't get me wrong, I feel for the guy. Who wants to die amongst a bunch of Swiffers? Still, he decided to put all of that harmful crap in his body, and now we're the ones who have to sit and listen to a bunch of know-it-all's tell us how to live our lives." Brian says haughtily.

"You don't know a thing about what happened so don't talk to me about Isaac, that was his name, "the guy that died in aisle four". He has a name." I seethe.

"Whatever, man," Brian says, rolling his eyes, shrugging his shoulders. Something inside me snaps. I whirl around and grab Brian roughly by the arms before I slam him into a wall. He begins to squirm but my forearm is pressed firmly against his chest, holding him in place.

"What the hell man?!" Brian splutters.

"Listen to me you narcissistic little bastard, if I hear one more complaint out of you, one more disrespectful remark toward my friend and his death, I will kick your sorry ass, got it?" I hiss coldly.

"Okay man, geez!" Brian mumbles anxiously.

I let go of him and turn around towards the direction of my checkout counter when I hear Brian mumble something under his breath. I have no idea what it is he said but it's sparked something in me. I whirl around, eyes blazing, and swing. I'm so angry I barely feel my fist make contact with his face, but I certainly hear it. There's an ear-splitting crack followed by an ear-splitting wail. Brian crumples to the ground, clutching his nose. My anger dissipates in an instant. I look down at my hands in shock, and then over towards Brian, lying in a heap on the floor.

Brian removes a shaking hand from his face. Blood pours from his nose like water from a faucet. It's smeared across both of his hands. Our eyes meet and I can detect genuine fear in his. I stand there, mouth agape. Images of Isaac's practically lifeless body and the blood that encompassed it flash before my eyes. I stumble backward, suddenly dizzy. I'm losing it. I have the sudden urge to bolt. I need air, and fast. With my mind reeling, I burst out of the back door adjacent to the wall lined with our vests. I begin to pace back and forth, breathing heavily. Suddenly I whirl around and drive my fist into the side of the building with all of my strength.

I let out a strangled groan as pain shoots throughout my wrist. I slowly turn around, my back to the wall, and edge myself to the ground. I realize I'm shaking. My eyes glaze over and a tear slips down my face, taking me by surprise. I didn't cry after my dad disowned me, I didn't cry after Delilah left, I didn't cry at Isaac's funeral. I'm not a violent person, not even towards people like Brian. I had become a ticking time bomb, and today I just happened to go off. I was feeling everything all at once, all the emotions I had kept at bay. I guess that's what happens when you bottle things up. Another tear slips down my face, and another, and another.