Looper | Purple Guy X Reader

Epilogue

You turned the key in the lock four times, making sure to properly close your apartment's door. Last time you forgot to do that, you were left without a fridge for some time.

Life has not exactly been sunshine and rainbows since you came back; over a year now. The moment your parents learned about what you have really been spending their money on, and the reason you were hospitalized; they made you go to rehab. No matter your assurances that you didn't have a problem, and your drug or alcohol use has been only recreational; they still made you go. And they stopped giving you money, instead opting for sending it to your landlord directly. And your living expenses? They made you get a part-time job...

You took the narrow stairway down, tiptoeing around broken glass. It was awfully early; far too early for you to be up, but your job wouldn't do itself.

A thanks was due to your parents for that. If it weren't for them, you wouldn't have met some new friends. And if it weren't for those friends, you wouldn't have had such a well-paying, freelancer job by now. It was a once in a lifetime, easy to miss opportunity. But you caught it – right by the balls and squeezed until they popped. With your major, it was only logical for you to work in a field like that.

You walked out of the apartment complex, the metal gate slamming loudly behind you. The air was stale, the sky grey. Ah, the golden Detroit autumn. Nothing could beat the smell of pollution and the sound of police sirens early in the morning.

The memory is very vivid in your head, even though it's been a year since it happened. You, right out of rehab, wanting to go against your parents and continue your irresponsible way of living. You attended a party; a friend of a friend decided to invite you. There were two guys, sitting on a something- stained couch, drinking beer, when you walked in. You asked if you could join them, a drink in your hand. For others, they looked intimidating. One person even tried to pull you away. But you ignored all warnings, desperately wanting to interact with them – you knew who they were.

You holstered the heavy bag on your shoulder, tools clanking softly inside. There was a quick stop you wanted to make, before getting to work.

The guys were clearly part of some organization. You studied guys like them – not your typical hood, wanna-be gangsters. No, they looked to be the real deal. So, you got to talking. They were surprisingly nice, for men with scarred and tattooed faces. One was even missing an eye... And as the three of you got more drunk, one of them asked what you did for a living. You explained that you went to college, and worked part-time at McDonald's. They seemed to visibly tense at the mention of you being a criminology major. You surely must have had a strong moral compass, right? Wrong.

You rounded the corner, avoiding the bum that has been sitting on the same sidewalk as always, asking for change. You swore that his ass was glued to the concrete.

As the conversation carried on, and your complaints about how life was so unfair to you, because you had to get a job, they kept stealing glances at each other. In your drunken state, you didn't realize that you have mentioned several times, that you have killed people. It was always one man, but you made yourself sound more badass than you ever were, or will be. At that, one of the guys perked up; "How didn't you get caught, then? That is, if you're really telling the truth. You don't look like the kind of person with the balls to do shit like that". And your dumb self had to prove them wrong.

You crossed the side-walk, slowly getting closer to your destination. A bit of a drizzle started to pick up, but it was nothing serious.

In great detail, you explained how you got rid of the bodies. You never did, the simulation handled that for you. But you had extensive knowledge about how a cadaver functioned, the best ways to clean human waste, ways to successfully get rid of biohazards of all sorts. That was all theoretical knowledge, but you were so sure of yourself at that moment. So adamant about wanting to look cool to those strange men. By the time you finished all your bizarre stories, the two seemed rather convinced. You could always sell the most ridiculous lies...