Parser

>Parser

A novel by John October

It's 12 o'clock. This was the time we agreed upon. The parking lot is empty, except for me. I'm not in a car, I'm on foot, and by the looks of it, I'll be regretting that soon enough. Large, monolithic clouds pour into the sky as if expelled from the mouths of gods on a cold day. It's not a cold day, though. It's unseasonably hot, and I'm wishing I was wearing more comfortable clothes. I'm sweating already, though that has less to do with the heat and more to do with my nerves. I'm supposed to be meeting someone here, and I'll either be leaving with his blood on my hands, or mine on his. I'd prefer the former. If he shows, even. If he doesn't, well, it's a nice enough day to wander, anyways.

I've always enjoyed the downtown area. At night it's nicer, but the off-season brings with it a sort of ghost-town vibe that I've always found mysterious and magical. Walking around a place like this on my own, I get the spark, the tingle of adventure through my body, even if I've seen the whole area thousands of times. Back when I was first able to go places on my own, this is where I'd come to experience freedom. The little shops and bars, convenience stores, quaint little things and quaint people in a quaint town. There was an underbelly to this place, but most people didn't know it.

Cars drove past. People talked. Clouds patched together to cut out the few remaining shafts of light. My feet made working sounds against the gravel as I walked. My jeans, torn and too long, tugged the the bottoms of my shoes with every lift of each foot. The wind picked up, blowing my too-long hair around in no particular direction. My eyes darted around, between the bridge, the parking lot, the bar nearby, looking for signs of him. Nothing yet. I had to stay on guard.

This whole thing was so insane. I didn't do anything. I was doing this for someone else. Someone I'd forgotten about months ago. Someone who'd hurt me. It's weird how things work. One moment I'm crying, broken-hearted, because of this absolute bitch, this cheater, this scum of the earth. One moment I'm cursing her over and over in my drunken misery,and this, the next moment, I'm coming to her defense. Though maybe for selfish reasons. This guy had always gotten on my nerves. He was a class-A degenerate. A lying imbecile whose main confidences came from his past exploits. His past exploits: a history of stealing other men's women, drug experiments, and joining the Navy as a last-ditch effort to make himself useful to someone. He bragged about how strong he was, how easily he could have anyone he wanted. In truth, nobody wanted him except him. He was a last resort. But he was also an intimidating bastard, a rapist and someone who'd probably seriously injure anyone who didn't do what he wanted. Today, I was hoping to apply his own modus operandi to him.

I'd never been in a fight before, per se. Besides a couple scuffles with close friends, and the regular sibling fights between myself and my younger brother, My fighting experience came entirely from video games and vicarious movie viewings. This was probably going to be yet another regret to add to the list.

Yet another regret to add to the list which was getting to be impressively long. Including but not limited to: Flirting with alcoholism, actively indulging what was probably a sex addiction, lying almost compulsively, thinking of the easiest way to die, thinking of the best ways to leave without hurting my family or having them blame themselves. In reality, maybe I wasn't much better than him. In reality, maybe I needed this pain more than he did. He was filth, but he knew what he was. I deluded myself into thinking I was better. I'm not.

Maybe this was my way of punishing myself. Awakening myself. Change needed to happen, and I needed it soon. I was sick of the sudden urges to walk into traffic, jump from fatal heights, or swallow pills. I was sick of all of it. I wanted to care about my health again but I didn't know how. Everything felt numb, I was hoping this pain would feel sharp.