I barely knew Rich when I saw him die.
It was a sunny Sunday afternoon, so I was outside playing. Then, the gleam of sunlight hitting metal catches my eye. I, stupidly, walk over to investigate.
I peer through the open window of a house across the street, where the glint of steel had come from. Inside, I find a scene I had never witnessed:
A single police officer stands, gun drawn and pointed at a man standing on the opposite end of the room. She's talking to him in low tones, though I can't hear what she's saying.
The man, on the other hand, I can hear perfectly, as he's shouting loud enough for China to hear.
"Go away! I don't need to be saved! Everything is gone! Gone!" he screams.
The officer kneels down, trying to get more on the man's level. His face is slick with sweat as he speaks to the shouting man, who I now realize has a gun in his hand.
"Shut up! I will pull this godamn trigger, and then it will be on your conscious!" the man shouts, sounding more desperate than angry.
The officer still speaks, edging closer to the man. Trying to reach his gun, I realize.
I stay silent as the man screams more, the officer edging closer and closer.
I stay silent as the man gives one last, long howl of agony.
I stay silent as the sound of the gunshot reverberates through my skull, etching itself in my memories.
The police officer crumbles to his knees beside the body, crying. I don't know why until I hear the words spoken in between the sobs.
"Why, Rich? You had everything, everything I could give you. Why leave? Why leave me? No one understands me like you do. Did. Why? Just why?"
I blink at the man, then feel the pain of another scar being traced onto my back.
It goes from my right hip to my spine, cut in an almost perfectly straight line. It feels like a needle dragging along my skin, just barely piercing flesh.
I turn away from the scene within the house, without seeing Rich's spirit rise from his body, and make way for my own house, ignoring the all-too-familiar feeling of blood sliding down my back.
Oh, how I would come to realize that a needle prick hurts a lot less than the deaths of some.
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In the Middle of the Bed (A Saira Collings Story)
FanfictionAs you may have guessed, this is the story about Saira Collings. Or, more accurately, twenty-seven stories about her. Some you know; some you don't. Read the tales about the woman who has seen and caused more death than any other. Read to find out j...
