Something Violent

A.

"How could you leave me like this?" Those were the last words I can remember before the echo of a gunshot filled the entire cul-de-sac with fear and confusion. In this normal little town that we call home, we aren't familiar with this sound. It's almost too perfect. The police officers don't carry guns or handcuffs. It's like there is no crime here at all. The small population where no one has the same name and everybody knows everybody. This is a city where people run to...to die old, or just hide from past problems. Born and raised here, I didn't know what a real gunshot sounded like. Not in person at least. Sure, I had head them in old western movies, but those were just sound effects and cap guns. This booming crack silenced the neighborhood. No one moved or said anything to anyone. Moments later, a second gunshot created pandemonium amongst the streets. Parents uprooting their crying children from playscapes; couples running away clinging to one another, but no one knew why.
I looked down on the neighboring house to see movement from my window. This husky man with a large, built body paced across the window. Gun in hand, blood on shirt. He was unrecognizable. I had never seen this character in our town before. I couldn't grab words as I gazed at the sight of murder. But looking at the chaos in the streets made me chuckle a bit.
My girlfriend, sitting on my bed in tears, was slowly becoming my ex-girlfriend. I was leaving her, for good. But then I was interrupted by the double murder. Her eyes glistening in salty tears made me want to be that man with the gun, putting a bullet right between her perfect pair of blue eyes. I 'love' her and all, but who's to say that I don't think she should die. You don't even know what the whore did to me. Fucking skank...
I would always try and avid getting involved with people's problems, but this mayhem that lie just yards away was calling to me. I could have forgotten about the half-naked woman sitting on my bed. I never realized how ugly this slut was. She would take off her clothes faster than it takes the average cigarette to light up. Without even thinking, I dodge the vase being thrown at me.
"What the hell you crazy bitch?!" I scream at her. She doesn't even acknowledge me, but I'm fine with that. She wiped the tears streaming down her face with my blanket. Cunt. I don't regret anything with her, accept that I actually asked her to be mine. I was entirely oblivious to the fact that she was some psycho. Always coked up. If it wasn't coke it was ecstasy. Certainly, if it wasn't ecstasy, it was acid.
Another gunshot silenced her sniffling, but this time, it wasn't from the neighbor's house.

B.

The blood drips down her nose as she falls back in self enjoyment. The cocaine has reached her brain. Her eyes are glazed, but nothing like an overdose. Just a high. One higher than the last. She built a tolerance after so much abuse. The drugs aren't getting more expensive, she is just buying more to get that greater high. One to surpass the last. I can tell what she's feeling. She's useless without the drugs. Even more useless with them. I don't mind listening to Aphex while she rolls back in forth swatting at spiders that aren't even there. She smacks to the roll of the bass drum. If she saw herself like this, she might understand why I'm leaving her. She isn't worth the time and money. Not even the slightest bit. She's ugly, too. Oh how I wish she was gone. I wish she would just finally take so many fucking drugs just to get a buzz that she might die. Knowing my luck, that wouldn't happen. It's never this easy. Just like everyone thought Steve Irwin would die from something hardcore like a King Cobra, I thought she would die a painful drug-related death.
A year later, and she still hasn't cleaned up. She's at least tripled the amount of her first hit just to reach the buzz. I swear you could fry an egg on her head when she's fucked up. Probably some fucking bacon, too. Why won't you just die already? No one fucking loves you. Not even your parents. They left you when you were born. They figured you could make it on your own. Sadly, they were sort of right.

C.

"Holy shit! What the fuck was that?" Those were the last words I can remember before me and my little sister were uprooted from our bedroom. We were just playing Monopoly and all the sudden Mom and Dad tore us off of the floor that had the cute princess layout from my elementary school days. My parents were more frantic than I had ever seen them in all of my life. I love my iPod. It's saved me more times than anything.
From trance to death metal back up to indie. I've always had music to fit my needs. Right now, Death Cab for Cutie was saving the day with all of there lyrical bliss. Granted, it wasn't enough to distract me from the questions running through my head. "What was that noise?" "Who was that boy?" "Where am I going?"
I didn't know the houses in this neighborhood even had basements. Or cellars. Or dungeons. Whatever you would like to call them. I didn't know we had one, but it was more of a shelter than anything. It was underground and stocked with water and dehydrated foods of all sorts. Ice cream to watermelon. Shuffling artists: Nine Inch Nails. The questions in my head transfered to miscellaneous thoughts. "I'm ready for death." "I hope no one misses me when I'm gone." "I hope my last meal will be more than extravagant."
The crank-powered television broadcasts a shooting. The address looks familiar. The next camera view shows a police standoff in front of my house. Except, not my house. My neighbor's. I then think about how I've never really seen him or her before. I've always assumed that house was vacant and kept tidied up by the community. I wish I could see this first hand. I skip the next track. And then The Cure comes on. My mind kicks into overdrive. Not miscellaneous thoughts anymore, just a jumble of images. Fuzzy. Dark. Bright. Blinding. Wings. Flying. Death.

D.

Cuddled under the stars, we listened to the crickets chirping, but didn't think much of it. The wind was blowing ever so gracefully in the cool night. I think she fell asleep on my breasts because her breathing was evenly spaced and given without ease. That is the moment I decided to nap as well. At first, I started counting the stars. This was the perfect night to figure it out. How many stars consisted of this sky. I lost count at twenty-seven stars. I was gone.
When i awoke, there was no one lying next to me. Just a ladybug on a leaf a few feet away. I leaned over for a closer look to count the spots. It flew east. I'm not sure where she went, but I assume she left me. Gone forever. I should have never said goodbye on that bridge the night before. I walked back to the car and sat listening to The Mars Volta to get my mind off of her. I zoned out, again.
I was then startled by a knock on the window. It was her. She was here, knocking on my window. What does she want. I rotate the window lever two cranks counter clockwise. She leaned her head through the open window and kissed me. I tried not to kiss her back but I couldn't hold myself back. Then I tasted the alcohol on her breath. Gagging, I pushed her away. I hated when she drank.
"What's wrong, baby?"
I started the car and never said goodbye. I cried silent tears back to the place I called home.

E.

The sound of the bullet leaving the gun created a sonic boom in the room. I guess you don't scream when you commit suicide. I never expected it, but at the same time I knew it was bound to happen. Weeks of depression are usually the first signs. I should have really noticed when he gave me his stuffed kangaroo that he loved with all his heart. That's the second sign: giving away prized possessions. When Mom's gun disappeared I should have connected all the dots. If I had, I would have seen the answer. Suicide. Not really the favorite answer, but the right answer. Not the right answer but the right answer.
When you see someone's brains blasted out of their head on television, it's just special effects or really good props. They don't look anything like that. Looking at my little brother's brains spattered on my door was the worst thing I've ever seen. It wasn't the saddest thing, but it was the most startling. I didn't expect it, but I should have. Me and my soon-to-be ex-girlfriend didn't even notice him come in. But I guess that's because she was crying her eyes out and I was punching the wall. He moved into the room swiftly and silently just to blow his brains out. For all I know, he could have said, "I love you. Goodbye." Maybe he said, "Thanks for caring." Or "You asshole. I can't believe you didn't notice. I hope you enjoy life without me. Tell Mom I hate her." I'll never know because I wasn't paying enough attention.
I felt the tear run down my cheek as the garage door opened. Mom's home. But how did she get past all the camera crews and reporters. I didn't know what to do, so I just took the alternate route out my window. I'm not sure what I can say to my mom other than, "Your son, my brother, just committed suicide. Look in my room only if you want to see the inside of his head painted on my door. I love you!" I ran like there was no tomorrow. I ran to nothing. I ran to get away. Away from myself. Away from the world.

F.

I swear I don't miss her. I never even loved her. I just told her so she would be happy. I liked her a lot, but I never fell in love with her. Our relationship was weak anyway. She wouldn't kiss me in public because she didn't want to create a scene. Fucking skank. Her brother told me to never get close to her. Maybe that's why I wouldn't let myself love her. Or maybe, I just didn't love her. My parents didn't know we were together. That was the only way she could of stayed the night. I don't even think Mom or Dad know that I'm bi. I doubt my sister even knows, but she's too young to know the difference between male and female. I love how oblivious my family is. Oblivious, yet paranoid of everything. Like a shooting next door.
We finally went back up into the house late in the night. No one in the cul-de-sac had their lights off. It was brighter tonight than during a summer day. I felt the electric bill rising. I don't know what's happening to this neighborhood, but it's something big. First the shooting at my house, and now I see the neighbor across from us on the cul-de-sac digging a six-foot hole. I couldn't help but watch her from my window. She put all sorts of flowers in her garden, but the hole she dug was empty. I had never even talked to this woman before, but when she looked up at my window, I think we shared our first conversation without words. I felt so much from her stare. The power behind her eyes frightened me. I could only return a baffled look. She knew I didn't have a clue what was going on, but I was fine with that, and I think she was, too. She gave a half-hearted smile and sat in the hole. I could only see the top of her hair. The blond hair glistening white from all the lights in the neighborhood.
I never found out what happened to the guy next door. I'm not concerned enough to turn on the television. I don't think my mother likes the idea of me going out at night, especially after a murder in the neighborhood. As I walked out the door, I disregarded her argument about why I shouldn't be out this late. Fuck her. Fuck Dad. Fuck everything.
"Bye!!" I screamed as I slammed the door in her face. I can't take it anymore.