The Murder King (A First Draft)

June 6, 2010

        Jackson Moore died on June 6, 2010.  May he forever rest in pieces.  Joshua felt sorry for him, and decided to end his life.  Jackson Moore had served as a firefighter for twenty years up until five years ago when he had a tragic accident that led to him losing the ability to use his legs.  He had been saving children from an apartment fire at the time of his accident.  The building had fallen in just as he was exiting the building.  The children had made it out with only minor burns, but his legs and his left arm were caught under a fiery board.  The grateful children pulled him out of the wreckage after the fire had died down, but the damage was done.  He had third-degree burns all over his body and he would never use his legs again.  His arms took two years to fully heal. 

        Joshua decided to give him the gift of death.  It would be quick and painless, as were all of Josh's kills.  I wanted to follow him, but I knew I wouldn't get away with it and he would catch me.  So I waited.  And waited.  Until I couldn't wait any more.  I cleaned all of the bedrooms.  I cooked dinner.  I showered.  And the whole time I thought of Josh.  Was he hurt?  Was this how he felt when I hadn't come home after Britain's murder?  I turned on the lamp and sat in the chair where he had sat when he waited on me.  I fell asleep. 

        I woke up as the door opened.  Joshua stepped in.  I looked over at the clock hanging above the door.  4:00 A.M!  Why was he back so late!?  I glance up at Joshua and immediately knew that answer.  We was as hammered as I had been when I first met Jack.  I walked over to him and gave him a hug.  I whispered in his ear, not really knowing what I was saying.  "I'm so sorry."  "I should have been there for you."  "I love you." 

        "Did you do it?"  All I got in response was another sob and a simple nod, but it was something.  It was more than I'd ever gotten out of him so I started crying with him.  In that moment, our hearts beat in sync.  I guided him to my room and we collapsed on the bed.  Both crying with the other.  We fell asleep that way.  Hopelessly entangled in each other, the waves of adoration tainted with grief. 

        I never really figured out what happened that night.  And I don’t think I want to find out.