TAMING APOLLO | completed

02. my friend kills a homeless man

G A Y L E

02. my friend kills a homeless man

MAYBE it's the sleep deprivation or the fact that an undoubtedly handsome homeless man is laying unconscious on my old, decaying brown couch but I think that today is the day where I finally lose what's left of my sanity.

Luckily, he's not completely naked, there's at least a pair of underwear covering what's left of his dignity from the outside world.

Thalia's chocolate brown eyes are wide at the scene before her while my metallic baseball bat is rolling wantonly across my cold tiled floor. Her fingers are vibrating at a tumultuous frequency and her entire body is shaking as her eyes drift from the body and towards me.

"Did I just kill a hobo?" Her question comes out as a nervous chuckle which is laced with just a dab of humour, like she's telling herself that this is a dream and that she absolutely cannot believe she had it in her to hit the man in the head.

I'm frozen to the spot, the vase in my arms is growing heavier by the second but I cannot, for the life of me, force myself to move.

Then, the realisation dawns on her, and her face morphs into that of the horror of what she's done. "I-just-killed-a-hobo." She mumbles quickly to herself, her body shaking even more now.

"Oh my – " she cuts herself off and begins to pace, winching when her foot kicks the bat, shooting it across the room.

She's running her fingers through her wild russet coloured hair like a mad-woman and her pacing starts to speed up.

"We... we have to bury it." She ambles towards me and I find myself lacking on words to say. Her eyes are pleading with me, and she grabs onto me desperately.

"We? I'm not the one who killed the poor guy!" I retort shamelessly, feeling as though burying it would make me an instigator in this whole situation.

Her mouth hangs wide open at my response. "I would help you bury it if the tables were turned!" She screeches at me, obviously resisting the urge to shove me violently.

Before I can reply to her words, the man lets out a large groan as he shifts on the couch. I act on instinct, throwing the glass vase at his head, and watch in horror as it shatters on it, which seems to knock him out again.

Thalia is watching with her mouth slightly agape, her eyes unmoving from the now completely still body.

She turns to me, this time a slight smirk toying on her luscious pink lips.

"Well, if he wasn't dead before, he sure as hell is now."

▁ ▁▁ ▁▁ ▁ ▁▁

HE ISN'T DEAD.

His pulse is feint but there, so Thalia and I decide to tie him to a chair and wait for him to wake up to tell us what he's doing in my apartment in the first place.

I mean, it's not like this is exactly a situation we can explain to the police, is it?

I can just imagine how that call would go;