Bruised (Patrick Hockstetter)

'Good' Ending

I had grabbed a few sheets of paper and envelopes from my nightstand before I ran out on Beverly. I shoved a pen in my pocket and slid the paper into the journal that holds my money, tucking it beneath my armpit. I didn't have time to explain to Bev. If I stayed there too long I'd most definitely bleed out before I make it to my destination.

  I must look like a zombie walking down the street. My left foot drags behind me as I stumble through town. My fall on the stairs had twisted my ankle to where I couldn't put much weight on it without sharp pains tingling through my leg. My destination is not far from my house but my whole body aches. I'm just hoping I can pull myself together for one last day.

  I spot the sign of the hardware store from a distance, flickering in the still misty morning. I'm so close.

  Reaching the store I quietly make my purchases and make my way back out to the sidewalk. I hold a full gas can in my left arm and a brown paper bag in the right. The odd stares I receive from the early birds I pass don't even phase me. I stare straight ahead and make my slow depressing walk towards the other side of the neighborhood.

  I bet he's home right now. Showering the sweat and blood off of him and smiling at the 'perfect' stunt he pulled. Oh to look at his face as it slowly turns to despair when he sees the dead walking before him.

  I reach the poor house with dirt and cracks in the outside paneling and step up to the door. I don't see any cars in the driveway which further encourages me to carry out my plan.

  I smooth out my hair and take a deep breath before knocking quietly. I soon hear the thudding of his boots getting closer and closer until the click of the door knob sounds. This is it.

  The door swings open and he freezes at the sight of me. You'd expect his face to flush pale as any normal human would but instead he just stares. I flash a smile at him as he looks to my arms which had now been covered by my long sleeves. I wanted him to think he was going crazy... as if he had dreamt everything that happened just an hour before.

  I originally thought he'd shower and go on as normal but he looks just the same. He hadn't so much as changed his clothes before I had stopped by. Seeing my blood soaked into his shirt made my stomach turn. I hold my smile to keep my own little game going but inside I am falling apart thinking of this beautiful psycho.

I had my supplies sitting next to me, slightly out of view of the door. His eyes were wide but not hinting at any sort of fear. In my mind I can only think he's intrigued by this.

'Can I come in?' I ask trying to keep my voice low and inviting.

'Sure doll.' He bluntly stated, almost seeming nervous though I'm sure he's not. Maybe just pissed.

I let myself inside and plop down onto his couch which had a sort of musty smell.

'I just wanted to know how you're doing... you've been acting strange recently.' I fluttered my eyelashes at him.

She looks rough but my god she's standing before me.

'Strange?' Was all he said back to me.

'Yeah you just seem... lost' I can see his eyes twitching as I tilt my head at him.

'No... I'll be back. Bathroom.'

She couldn't possibly be real.

Perfect, I thought. I was sure he'd try to finish the job he so closely completed earlier. I give him a grin and he walks away giving me time to grab the supplies from the porch.

Stepping back inside, I start pouring the gasoline around making sure to throw it on the flammable furniture as well. If he's known for loving fire I'm sure he'd appreciate a fiery death. Perhaps even thank me for it.