What do you call a dead man walking? | Teen Ink

What do you call a dead man walking?

January 9, 2012
By Karlynne PLATINUM, Orange Park, Florida
Karlynne PLATINUM, Orange Park, Florida
21 articles 0 photos 98 comments

Favorite Quote:
Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass...
It's about learning to dance in the rain.
-Vivian Greene

I sat there in the middle of the intersection. I didn't care about the cars honking at me to go. I couldn't drive anymore. I couldn't see through my tears of hurt and betrayal.
“Wow Eliza, this is really good!”
“Thanks Erik. You really like it?”
“Yes baby, I love it. Will you sign it for me?”
“With my last name or yours?” I joked.
“Sign it with mine.” I looked at him, he smiled back, and then added,”So, where is your boss taking you this week? San Antonio? Paris?”
“Actually, we’re going over a county to Gainesville. Only for 3 days though. Then we'll be on our way up to Atlanta.”
“Russell! Come on! You said we’d be here for less than a week!” I exclaimed. My boss was a moron. I wish I could take a rope to his neck. During the meeting with the president of the company, he decided to bring up how production hasn't been meeting their quota. Now Mr. Sadeth wants to have a little talk with Russell. Which meant my Thursday and Friday were now completely open. So I walked up to the front desk.
“Excuse me, ma'am?...Miss Kasey?” I read off the plastic name plate.
“Yes dear? Can I help you?”
“Umm, is there anything to do around here? Maybe a bookstore, a mall, or a morgue perhaps?”
“Well actually, there’s a bookstore right down the road deary. But don’t walk there,” she said in a serious voice,” You’re way too pretty to be walking alone around here.”
I said thanks, and in taking her advice, started for my car.
I walked into the bookstore and the smell of old books immediately told me it was a used bookstore. I walked up to the front desk and asked where the fiction section was. Strolling down the aisles one particular book caught my eye.
How could he do this to me? I thought we were special. I thought he loved me.
I put the car in drive as a police officer approached the window and sped off.
He will pay.
I approached our apartment complex 2 hours later, after stopping at our local Publix for some new cutlery. As I pulled in, I turned off my headlights. I got out of the car, opting to not close the door in case he woke up. I slipped up the stairs, slowly slid my key in the lock, and cautiously opened the door. I tip toed down the hallway rather awkwardly with the book and the knife bulging out of my purse. Having reached the bedroom door, I pulled out my book. MY BOOK. My book that I had to buy back from that stupid bookstore. I don't care if it was a misunderstanding. I don't care if he had accidently dropped it and someone else picked it up.
Tonight…he was going to die. Like all the rest. I guess I just can't catch a break.
I kicked open the door and turned on the light. The knife glinted as I threw the book at his sleeping face.
“Wha…what the hell?! Eliza? Wha…what are you doing?!” He yelled as the book hit him.
I smiled leaning up against the door way. His face went white as I crossed the room over to him running the knife along the wall and pushed him back down onto the bed. He started to whimper.
“Ssshhhhh.” I whispered against the knife on my lips. “You're going to wake up the neighbors' darling.”

The author's comments:
I wanted to write a story a bit out of the norm. For those that aren't English savy, the 15 dash marks are time jumps. The story starts out in the present, jumps back to the past, skips forward a bit, skips forward again, goes back to the present, then jumps forward again.

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