The green coat of luck

Chapter XXVIII, God?

Morals. God? Is there an answer? Oscar Wilde once wrote, «Morality, like art, means drawing a line somewhere.» I put on my jacket, locked the room, and ran out of the hotel room with my things. I left my key at the entrance and paid for my stay. The lady with the ill-fitting button-down smiled and asked something I did not quite catch. The rain felt heavier with each breath. My shoes felt like I was swaying on the water as my feet slipped around in the water puddle. Worrying that it will soon overflow out of my shoe, turning into a sea. A sea of which will engulf my foot with its white shark teeth.

I had put my hood on and ran around the city, no idea where I am. I still have the gun plastered on my hip on my waistline. It left me stifled the idea of what I had done. I stopped to breathe every second. My heartbeat was racing as my eyes got blurrier with every step I took. The world seemed to be against me, or was I against it? I brought this on myself. I could have controlled myself. Yet, my urges got the best of me.

Now I have lost the dearest and nearest thing in my life, my Bella. How could I have done such a thing? I have become a monster. I wonder how I had become like this. How did my brain decide to take it upon itself to become the predator of mankind? A killer. How dared I play God? I dared to chose who to kill? If there was a God, she would sanction me to her hell. I have done the inhuman, I have dined in the ungodly nature I am one with the devil and evil.

My legs stopped. I put my hands on my knees to catch my breath, not noticing my feet were pushing me down slowly as if the angle of my body became larger, leaving my face swimming in a brown pit of water. I placed my hand on each side of my body to pick my head up, but my body did not allow me. I felt the water wash my nose hair and choke them like the water had hands of their own sowing my nostrils together as my head was shouting,

-Pull yourself up, Frank. Pull yourself up, Frank. To that, I shout for who? I killed the only one I used to pull myself up for. She is murdered in a hotel room where we shared our dearest moments. The same place where I made her feel fucking worthless. I made her hate herself and ended up ending her life. She is not here anymore. She is gone. My Bella is gone, and it is all my fault. I am to blame. I am to sanction, to crucify I am judas the traitor I am a killer now.

2

The sun had set, and the air got breezier. The weather here is the opposite of the weather back home. I should leave. I should not have come here dad is not here even. I came here to start over with Bells. I cannot stay here without her. I glanced over the area and realized my feet had dragged me to the dock. The dock that leads me here and the same dock that will lead me back to Italy.

Beside the dock is a little house. I think it might be an information center. Maybe I can grab the next cruise to Italy? I ran to it, feeling my feet bang on the ground like they weighed a ton each.

I finally twisted the handle and walked in. Behind the deck was a tall blonde man in his late forties wearing horrible round-looking glasses.

-Bonjourno, rejs Wlochy?

He nodded and put out two fingers. I didn't understand what he meant. He put his finger on the clock behind him, which dragged across two small lines within the hours, two minutes then. He was writing something behind the desk. Maybe he is fixing me a ticket. I don't have money. The entrance is still outside and open. I shook my head as a no and walked out. The entrance was about to be pulled in, the loud sounds echoed in my ears. I ran as fast as I could, thankfully the dock was nearby so, there wasn't too big of a gap, and I jumped on the cruise heading straight to Italy again.

- Dad, I am coming, I whispered under my breath as I stepped in.