Goodbye
Red. She always looked so beautiful in red. It was what she wore the last time we were together. The last time we'd ever be together. The day that my love died. The day that my heart died.
It was a chilly day for Florida. Winter I guess, but it was February. We thought the beach would be nice, but it was so god damn windy. We had to go back to the car and grab our jackets and a blanket. The wind couldn't kill our spirits though.
We sat in the white sand watching the ocean waves as they rolled in. The smell of the saltwater warmed my Southern soul. We drank straight from a bottle of Pinot Noir. It was a little sweet for my taste but I liked it. I liked everything more when I was with her.
"I used to come here with my ex," I said.
"Oh is that right?" she said with an eyebrow raised. "Tell me all about it."
"There's nothing to tell! She was so annoying," I said. "She couldn't just enjoy anything."
She leaned back, tucked her blonde locks behind her ear, and spoke softly. "I don't like when you compare me to her."
"I don't mean to compare you to her. It's not even about her," I said. "I guess I'm just realizing how much better you are than everybody else."
"You're just now realizing this?" She asked. She took a huge swig from the bottle.
We both laughed and stared at each other. I could have lost myself in her eyes. I wanted to.
Soon, the sun had set without us realizing. We were too wrapped up in each other. We grabbed our things and headed back to the parking lot. It was a Wednesday night, and not many people were on the beach. We crossed the boardwalk toward the lot, taking our time. Ellie hummed one of my favorite songs. She had the sweetest voice. It was smooth and comforting.
It was unusual that I walked ahead, but I did on that evening.
An ear piercing scream shattered the beautiful tune, and I whipped around to see three men dragging Ellie by her ankles. "Dennis!" she screamed. They pulled her in the opposite direction of me.
She was kicking and clawing for her life. I dropped my shit and sprinted toward them, acting on instinct. One of them saw me and pointed a gun at my chest. He pulled the trigger.
I hit the ground. I didn't feel anything for the first few seconds, and then the agony sunk in. I was hit in the side of my stomach. I tried to get up. I tried to do anything to save Ellie, but I couldn't do anything. My body wouldn't let me move. The man walked up to me. He was a shirtless Latino man with tattoos all over his chest and neck, and the only one of the three that I really got a good look at. He leaned over me, and I saw a number five roman numeral dripping blood tattooed on his neck.
"You lose bitch," he said as he grinned.
"Come on Seb!" said one of the other men.
He stepped backward toward Ellie, who was staring at me. She was terrified. The man aimed his gun at her chest. That's when everything slowed down.
I watched his finger squeeze the trigger. With one bright and defined blast, she was gone.
The physical and emotional pain was too much for me. I passed out. They must have thought I was dead, as they didn't shoot me again. But I was alive. I was alive and I was angry.
I spent six days squirming in my hospital bed. I couldn't get the image of Ellie being shot out of my head. I spoke to the police. They never found Ellie's body, but there was enough of her blood on the pavement for them to declare it a homicide. Apparently it isn't unusual for gangsters to take the body of a pretty girl to play with for a while once she's dead. The thought of them violating her lifeless corpse sent my head spinning. I knew she couldn't feel any more pain, but I did. And I knew I had to do something about it.
Rage
Three weeks had passed, and I was drowning myself in booze. I knew it wouldn't help. I knew it would only amplify my pain. But I didn't care. All I had anymore was pain.
I sat at the bar of a hole in the wall enjoying my third whiskey sour. Pool balls cracked,
Red. She always looked so beautiful in red. It was what she wore the last time we were together. The last time we'd ever be together. The day that my love died. The day that my heart died.
It was a chilly day for Florida. Winter I guess, but it was February. We thought the beach would be nice, but it was so god damn windy. We had to go back to the car and grab our jackets and a blanket. The wind couldn't kill our spirits though.
We sat in the white sand watching the ocean waves as they rolled in. The smell of the saltwater warmed my Southern soul. We drank straight from a bottle of Pinot Noir. It was a little sweet for my taste but I liked it. I liked everything more when I was with her.
"I used to come here with my ex," I said.
"Oh is that right?" she said with an eyebrow raised. "Tell me all about it."
"There's nothing to tell! She was so annoying," I said. "She couldn't just enjoy anything."
She leaned back, tucked her blonde locks behind her ear, and spoke softly. "I don't like when you compare me to her."
"I don't mean to compare you to her. It's not even about her," I said. "I guess I'm just realizing how much better you are than everybody else."
"You're just now realizing this?" She asked. She took a huge swig from the bottle.
We both laughed and stared at each other. I could have lost myself in her eyes. I wanted to.
Soon, the sun had set without us realizing. We were too wrapped up in each other. We grabbed our things and headed back to the parking lot. It was a Wednesday night, and not many people were on the beach. We crossed the boardwalk toward the lot, taking our time. Ellie hummed one of my favorite songs. She had the sweetest voice. It was smooth and comforting.
It was unusual that I walked ahead, but I did on that evening.
An ear piercing scream shattered the beautiful tune, and I whipped around to see three men dragging Ellie by her ankles. "Dennis!" she screamed. They pulled her in the opposite direction of me.
She was kicking and clawing for her life. I dropped my shit and sprinted toward them, acting on instinct. One of them saw me and pointed a gun at my chest. He pulled the trigger.
I hit the ground. I didn't feel anything for the first few seconds, and then the agony sunk in. I was hit in the side of my stomach. I tried to get up. I tried to do anything to save Ellie, but I couldn't do anything. My body wouldn't let me move. The man walked up to me. He was a shirtless Latino man with tattoos all over his chest and neck, and the only one of the three that I really got a good look at. He leaned over me, and I saw a number five roman numeral dripping blood tattooed on his neck.
"You lose bitch," he said as he grinned.
"Come on Seb!" said one of the other men.
He stepped backward toward Ellie, who was staring at me. She was terrified. The man aimed his gun at her chest. That's when everything slowed down.
I watched his finger squeeze the trigger. With one bright and defined blast, she was gone.
The physical and emotional pain was too much for me. I passed out. They must have thought I was dead, as they didn't shoot me again. But I was alive. I was alive and I was angry.
I spent six days squirming in my hospital bed. I couldn't get the image of Ellie being shot out of my head. I spoke to the police. They never found Ellie's body, but there was enough of her blood on the pavement for them to declare it a homicide. Apparently it isn't unusual for gangsters to take the body of a pretty girl to play with for a while once she's dead. The thought of them violating her lifeless corpse sent my head spinning. I knew she couldn't feel any more pain, but I did. And I knew I had to do something about it.
Rage
Three weeks had passed, and I was drowning myself in booze. I knew it wouldn't help. I knew it would only amplify my pain. But I didn't care. All I had anymore was pain.
I sat at the bar of a hole in the wall enjoying my third whiskey sour. Pool balls cracked,
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