Damn It All to Hell

Chapter 3

Seven years later...

Damn, it’s cold. I have to get the heater in this damn car fixed. I’ve been stuck at this red light, freezing my ass off, for what feels like forever. Christ, is this light ever going to change?

That’s it: I’m just going to park wherever I can. I can’t take it anymore.

Hey, cool! Someone’s pulling out of a metered parking lot just down to my right. Simple right on red, and away we go. Thank God. I think it’s probably colder for me to be sitting in this car than it would be for me to be walking outside. At least if you’re walking, you’re creating some body heat. Sitting in the car doesn’t do much in the way of keeping your body warm when the heater’s broken.

Jesus, of all days to come downtown, I had to pick today. Yesterday was beautiful. The day before was beautiful. Today it’s dark, and it’s at that temperature where the snow comes tumbling down from the sky in huge clumps rather than flakes because it can’t decide if it wants to rain, snow, sleet, or hail. Then it all melts to the street and creates patches of ice that are positively lethal since you can’t even tell they’re there until your car is spinning around in circles in the street.

I should’ve worn warmer clothes today. I don’t know why I didn’t. When I’m nice and warm inside my apartment, I always think I’d prefer to suffer through the cold and have less clothing to carry over wearing more and staying warm. Plus, it’s hard to look cool when you’re so bundled up that you can’t even put your arms down by your sides because you’re clothing is too thick. Then, it always ends up that I get outside to realize I did the same exact thing I always do: I didn’t wear enough clothing. It never fails.

The person in front of me is wearing a dark red coat that looks like it could keep me warm in an ice storm. It’s huge, and it has a giant hood that’s pulled up loosely over the head. I want that person’s jacket. I wonder if...woah! That person just fell! It’s really slippery out here. The hood of her coat fell off as she fell, and now she’s sitting there on the sidewalk, looking around aimlessly, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world for her to be sitting on the ground in the snow and slush. She looks rather strange sitting in the middle of the sidewalk like that, but she’s beautiful. Her hair is a rich, dark, chocolate brown that shines like a glossy wood even through the darkness and the snow.

She’s still sitting in the middle of the sidewalk. Several people have looked at her sitting there, and they all just walked right by. What is wrong with people? I’m gonna go help her. ‘Are you okay?’

Hello? Random girl in the middle of the sidewalk? She’s not answering. Maybe she’s hard of hearing. I’ll speak up a little. ‘Miss, are you okay?’ She’s just sitting there. My God, is she gonna sit there forever? ‘Miss...?’

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

Okay, suddenly she’s come back to life, but she’s still staring at the ground. ‘Let me help you.’ I have my hand in your face, are you gonna take it and get up out of the slush, or what? Hello...?

Oh my God. She just turned her head and looked up at me with the biggest, brownest eyes I have ever seen. I feel like I can see straight into her soul. She’s looking at me blankly, like she’s never seen a helpful person before in her life, or she’s never seen a person at all before in her life.

“Thanks.”

And her voice, too! It’s beautiful! I have to get to know this girl. ‘You must be freezing.’

“No, I’m okay.”

‘Let’s get you some coffee.’ Ah-ha! Who knew I would come up with such a great plan as it was coming out of my mouth? I was wondering what was going to come out. I certainly didn’t plan it before I said it.

“No, no, I have to go.”

I am not going to let her go. She’s going to come with me to get coffee. I don’t care what I have to do to get her to come. ‘Come on, you can’t just stay out here in the cold all night long. You’re gonna freeze. Follow me.’ I’ll take her to the mochaccino place. What could be better? Mochaccino and beautiful, stunned, and freezing girl...hm...I’ll take both. I’m not giving her much of a choice. I’m gonna take her by the hand and lead her into the mochaccino place. She seems very confused. I honestly don’t want to leave her in this condition, anyway.

The mochaccino place is only about a block away now. We’ll be there before she even remembers to complain about it again. This is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever...’Oh, shit!’

“What?”

‘Oh my God, follow me!’

“Where? What? Was that a g...”

‘Shut up and follow me! Hurry!’ I can’t think of a single reason why this girl would be following me, but she is. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I’m practically dragging her along with me. I knew this day was going to come eventually. I had hoped it never would, but I should’ve known better.

I’m trying desperately to run, but it’s nearly impossible on all this ice. The poor girl already fell once, and here I am, dragging her down the sidewalk. She doesn’t know who I am or where we’re going or anything. Christ, I’m such a terrible person. Well, okay, I’m just stubborn, but I’m not letting her go.

The cab is stopped at the light, and the man who shot at it is trying desperately to run from the scene. I saw where he went, though, and I’m not going to let this go. I’m rapidly approaching the cab. The rear window is almost completely gone. Only a few sharp points are sticking out into the center of the hole where the window used to be. Through the hole in the window, I can see blood spattered on the back of the driver’s seat. It’s happening now.

The poor girl looks petrified, but something tells me she’s strong enough to handle this, and whole-hearted enough to know that I need her here with me. I’m opening the rear door of the cab on the right-hand side. I’m half afraid to look, but I’m more afraid that the guy with the gun is going to get away. Yeah, I was right: Gavin was sitting in the back of the cab. His limp body has fallen to the floor, broken pieces of window are sticking out of the back seat, and a piece of skull is stuck into the back of the driver’s seat.

One glimpse was enough for me. The beautiful girl I’m dragging behind me is still coming surprisingly willingly. In fact, she seems to have let go of my hand to give herself more balance while she runs next to me. What? She’s running down an icy sidewalk with a complete stranger, and she doesn’t even know where we’re going or what we’re doing? I guess so. Well, I’ve seen crazier things.

There he is.

“There he is!”

The girl seems to have caught on. She’s helping me as though she’s my best friend in the world, as though we share some common bond, some recognizable sign that means we’ve come together like this through an odd twist of fate that determined we needed to be together. We’re chasing the guy down a dark alleyway that’s lit only by a single street lamp, dimly illuminating a fenced-in dumpster. We’re gaining on him.

The man has long, curly hair that’s pulled back into a messy, blond ponytail. It looks like he’s forgotten how to wash his hair. Hell, he looks like he’s forgotten how to shower at all. He looks exactly as I would’ve expected him to look. His coat is so long, it’s flapping in the wind behind him, while it drags on the ground and drenches the back of his legs. He’s obviously not a very good runner; he’s running in the most inefficient manner. His arms are flailing wildly as he pumps harder in an effort to push himself faster than his legs will allow him to run. He knows he’s going to lose.

He tripped on his coat! Finally!

The girl and I have caught up to him. He’s pulling out the gun and trying desperately to shoot at us, but the poor fellow is shaking, coughing, and wheezing like he hasn’t had a breath of air in hours. He’s pitiful, but I have to give him some credit for fighting so valiantly. I’m pulling him up to his feet by the hair, and this amazing girl somehow managed to get the gun from him. She’s just standing there, patiently waiting, holding the gun like it’s her most prized possession.

He’s shaking more violently now. He’s terrified. And he reeks of marijuana. ‘You’re a fucking pothead -- a fucking pothead! And you just fucking shot my best friend! You fucking killed my best friend!’ The girl has a furiously hateful expression on her face that worries me a little, seeing as how she’s now the one with the gun. But I’m more concerned with this guy right now. ‘You made a big fucking mistake, asshole.’

I try not to be too violent, but if someone pisses me off this much, they’re gonna die. This man is going to die. He killed Gavin. He shot Gavin in the back of the head. I’m holding the man who killed my best friend, and I’m ripping an entire handful of hair out of his head, while he winces in pain and starts crying like a baby -- the shithead. This man is going to die.

‘Do you know how much I hate you?! You fucking killed my best friend!!’ I’m getting angrier by the second. I can’t keep from pounding on this guy’s face. I’m holding his hair in a ball in my left hand and pounding on his face with my right. His knees have given out and he’s falling to the ground. As far as I’m concerned, he’s a breathing punching bag. He deserves to get the shit beat out of him. He deserves to die.

My grasp on his hair isn’t enough to support his weight any longer. He’s falling to the ground. I’m ripping the hair right out of his head, and I’m grabbing another section as he falls to the ground screaming. This is just a better chance for me to hurt him. A small space on the ground is cleared of most of the snow, and some of the asphalt beneath is showing. I’m banging his head against the ground repeatedly. The goal here is to fucking beat this guy until his eyes bleed. ‘Do you know how much I fucking hate you! Do you know you killed my friend?! I fucking hate you, motherfucker!’

The girl is standing by my side. She’s had the gun pointed at the guy the whole time. Suddenly, I’m self-conscious about letting her watch this violent display. Oh, Jesus. What have I done?

As I loosen my grip on the pothead’s hair, he falls to the ground in a pitiful heap of a man. He’s cold and limp, with his face so swollen and bloody that I can’t even see his eyes. He’s completely still. I’m backing away slowly, wondering if perhaps I went too far.

The girl is standing there as though this sort of thing is perfectly normal in her life. She still has the gun pointed directly at his head. She looks furious. Her breathing is deep, but fast, and she hasn’t blinked since I looked at her. I should say something. ‘Do you think he’s dead?’ Great way to start a conversation, Edan; you haven’t even gotten her name, yet.

She’s not responding. She’s not even looking at me. She’s holding the gun like she’s been executing people all her life....

The man’s head is no longer recognizable as a head. His body is somewhat covered by the cloak of his coat, with only one leg and one arm visible. He would look like a homeless man who froze to death while trying to sleep on the street in the freezing cold, if it weren’t for the fact that his head is nothing but bloody pulp.

I can’t believe the girl just shot him. I feel nothing but respect for her right now. I feel like she shot him because she felt my hatred, she knew my pain, she knew what it was all about. She knew I wouldn’t be satisfied until he was dead. I feel like she just did me a huge favor, but I’m still stunned. She’s turning her head to look at me with her huge brown eyes. Her face is smooth and white. She looks so innocent. She looks like an angel trapped in a human body. She’s looking at me like she’s just found her long-lost love. I think I love her.

“Yeah. I think he’s dead.”