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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
What is murder? See if you can figure it out? (I wrote this very quickly, so sorry if it seems to go to fast)

Submitted: April 16, 2013

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Submitted: April 16, 2013



Adam looked around his office.  It was nice and clean, pictures of his awards and accommodations lined up in neat rows on his walls.  Honestly most of them he had forgotten what they were fore.  On his desk a single picture stood next to his name plague and jar of pencils.  The photo was of his wife and child, all of them standing together. It brought back wonderful memories, when a knock came on his door.  He assumed it was a intern or rookie cop knocking and simply shrugged.  Taking a sip of his coffee, he mildly answered.

“come in” the coffee was hot still.  He could feel the burning skin on his upper lip.  He placed it down and looked up.  The person that had knocked and entered was a tall man, lean in build.  A very familiar face.

“what do you want?”  he asked the man standing in the doorway.  “Mr. Smith”  Smith walked in casually, as if it was his office.  Looking down at the sorry excuse for a cop at his desk.  Everything neat, everything tidy.  It made him sick.  With his right hand he slammed the perfect jar of pens and name plate to the floor.  In his hand was the picture frame.

“You don’t deserve this”  The man spoke slowly, deliberately. 

“That’s my family!”  The cop yelled, “That’s all I have of them!”  He screamed trying to get it back.

“Correct!”  Smith smiled breaking the wooden frame and taking the picture. 

“Your wife was ill, the doctors couldn’t keep her alive for long but you didn’t want to wait around for a corpse.  You took every weekend you could to stay away and then eventually you had to take a job out of city.”  The man pulled a gun from his long clock and pointed it at Adam’s head.

“I had to; it was my dream to be a police chief!”  He looked at the hollow end of the gun, feeling the chills run down his spine. 

“There is no way they could take care of themselves.  You left them with no money, she was too sick to work by then”  The anger in his voice was slow and boiling.  Under control and kept in check.

“She would understand, he had too it was my dream!”  Sweat poured form his forehead, the gun didn’t sway.  “I’m telling you she wanted me to go after my dreams”

“Then dream forever you sorry pig!”  and like that he trigger was blown and the man walked out of the office.  No one stopped Smith as he made his way down the stairs one step at a time.  Deliberate and thought out. 

“No one is going to come to your funeral, no one is going to stop me from killing a man like you.” And no one did.  Smith was allowed to walk down the street.  The night sky was above him, the moon lighted his path as he walked across the railroad tracks and right next to them stood a bar. 

Walking inside he found a face he knew, a man slumped over the bar as people took money right form his hands.  A dealer behind him yelled out next round, as a couple of brawly men locked arms.  Without even a thought the man over the bar handed money away again. 

“The left”  He muttered and took another drink.  Smith sat on the stool next to him, gagging on the smoke in the air and the foul stench form the man sitting next to him.  Stubbles on his beard, vomit still sticking to his un kept mustache.  Drinking down beer as if it were water. 

“So you finally came”  he waved at the bartender and ordered a glass for Smith.  Who drank it slowly, looking over the sorry excuse for a man. 

“Must be nice to have money to blow”  He commented, as he watched the man give dollar bills away again and again.  Betting without looking and drinking far beyond control.  “Looks like you’ve been losing again Bud.”

“When do I not right!”  he laughed a little but you could see the pain in the man’s eyes.  “Born to lose all the time, that’s me”  He let a tear hit his cup of beer, forcing a smile on his face he carried on.

“As long as am here I’m fine?”  he answered hearing the crowd roar behind him.  He knew the man had lost and didn’t hesitate to hand over more cash.

“What about your family? What about your wife doesn’t she care what you are doing?”  Smith asked waiting patiently for a reply.

“It is nice, my wife doesn’t care.”  He took another long drink and ordered another glass. 

“The money she gave you is from her insurance payout”

“So she still gave it to me, my debts were so high.  She didn’t’ want people around that would hurt me for their money.”  He gulped down his beer. 

“What happens when the money stops coming in?”  Smith asked, raising a gun to the man’s head. 

“Isn’t that were you come in?”  He looked at Mr. Smith and smiled.  The sedative he had placed in his cup of beer finally kicked in.  Smith held his head in pain, throwing up all over himself.  Stumbling past the crowd he made it to a back alleyway where he fell over.  The whole world was falling apart, and walking right behind him was Bud. 

“I won’t let you win Smith.”  He said as he bent over the man.  Weakly Smith tried to resist as the other person took the picture from his side.  “You don’t need this anymore right.”  He threw the picture on the ground and stepped around Smith’s body.  Taking the belt off of his skinny jeans he wrapped it around Smiths’ throat.  As the drunk started to pull Smith saw yet another familiar face walking up the street.  Surrounded by beautiful whores on either side.  Clinging to his tall figure by the droves.  Flashing their makeup caked faces in the dim light. 

“Wow Bud, I’m surprised at you.  Finally taking life by the balls huh?”  He asked.  Bud sneered at the man as he started to walk down the Adame street that Smith had earlier. 

“You shut up you…”

“What?”  the man walked closer.  One of the women around him tried to act scared.  Wrapping herself around him. 

“Aiden be careful.”  She slipped her hand down his pants, “I don’t want anything to happen to you” he toke his back hand to her face and left her on the ground blood trailing form her nose. 

“Get off of me bitch.”  As all he said as he strolled up to them.  Bud’s grip had loosened and this allowed smith to breath.  With each breath and each step Erin took Smith counted down. 

“Your just jealous that I get to have fun with my money, I don’t just lose it all the time.”  He smiled.  “come on you both have to admit, getting all the fucking broads you want in all the positions you want is amazing.  You wish you were me, don’t you?”  He laughed, Smith continued his countdown.  Bud screamed at him. 

“You have a wife you lowlife!” this didn’t phase Erin at all. “You have a wonderful wife that  gives you whatever you want.  So why would you do this to her?” 

“Whatever I want.”  He laughed  “Ever since the doctor fucked up her transplant she hasn’t been able to do squat for me.”

“What about Angelia?”

“What about the brat?”  Bud’ temper was flaring. 

“I could never be you, I might take money from my wife but I would never look at another woman like you do.”  Erin stopped on the tracks grinning like a fool.

“That’s the point!”

“Three….two…. one….” And out of the midst running along the track the train came without warning.  In one instance they were looking at a man.  The next his organs plastered on the nose of a train.  Smith took the advantage as Bud stared off in shock and got out form the belt and with his own two hands strangled the man to death.  Laying in the piss filled alleyway was Bud, still smelling of stale beer.  Picking up the picture he walked on.  Until under a street lamp he meet another man.  Sitting next to a building, homeless.  His hair had grown out, his mustache was filled with dirt.  From head to toe his man was a shell of what he once was. 

“How are you Mr. Smith” He asked.  Smith leaned against the wall along with him, lighting up to smoke.  “You’re the only one I know that smokes.” The bum laughed as Smith took a long drag on his cancer stick. 

There was an awkward silence between them. 

“Why are you out here in the cold like this?”  He asked the bum.  “You could have a job in any city you like Adam?”  The bum nodded, and started to cry. 

“I know why you’re here and I want you to do it.”  He sobbed.  “I don’t want to survive, I don’t want to remember.”  He cried.  Smith took a drag on his cigarette and exhaled.  Taking out the picture of the family he looked over the young girls face. 

“You mean you don’t’ want to remember her.”

“I don’t want to remember what I did to her, such a beautiful innocent girl. The whores and the booze were not enough.”

“You raped her.”  Smith said coldly handing the picture of the family to the bum. 

“I would do anything to have them back, the way they were.”  The picture crumpled in his hands socked with tears.  “How can a father rape his daughter?”  He asked.  Smith took the picture away from him burning it with the butt of his cigarette.  As the picture burned the man picked up the bum by the collar. 

“Make it go away!”  Erin cried.  Smith put a gun to his head.

“That’s why I’m here isn’t it, to fix your fuck ups.”  And like that the man’s brains were blown out. 

12:30 pm

Outside in the waiting room, a nurse called out.

“Mr. Base the doctor will see you now.”  The man taller than most and thin walked into the office and sat on the couch while the shrink looked over his papers. 

“This will be my last visit” The man said coolly, calmly. 

“I don’t think so Mr. Base you are very disturbed.  After your fellow policeman found your wife and daughter murdered in your house You’ve developed quite the problem.”  The old man moved his glasses up his nose looking at the man carefully. 

“Multiple personalities”  Base answered. 

“Yes.”  The doctor looked at the square box in his breast pocket, wondering when the man had started smoking. 

“That’s the thing”  Them man got up and looked down at the old man behind his wooden desk. 

“They’re all dead, all that is left is me.”  And with that remark lingering in the air, the man walked out of the office leaving the doctor to worry but powerless to stop him. 

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