"Jim. Is that gun loaded Jim?" "You stay away from me." "I'm not going anywhere." "Just leave me alone." Jim's manic shivering increased. He swallowed the lump in his throat and straightened himself.
"It was your fault Jim." "It wasn't my fault." Jim hated that tone of voice. He hated being talked to as if he were a child. Why did he use that tone of voice? "Jim, listen to me. If we're going to get through this, you're going to have to listen to me." "No." "There's no other way Jim." Jim frantically glanced around the room. The sweat from his brow dripped down into his eyes. With a gasp, his head jerked left as a metallic sound echoed through the room. Only the refrigerator defrost turning on. He turned his head to the window to see a small crack of light slipping through the closed curtains and listened to the peaceful chirping of the birds, it seemed very different from the dark, lonely room he sat in.
"Jim." Jim jerked again, more frantically this time.
"What? Please leave me alone. I beg you." Jim began to cry little tears that ran down his red cheeks before mixing with the sweat that had collected at the bottom of his neck.
"Are you crying Jim?" "No." Jim sobbed as he dropped his head to his knees and raised his hand to his face, washing the tears away.
"Jim, don't lie to me. I know you're crying. Grown men don't cry Jim. I can't believe you're crying." "Stop. I'm not crying." Jim sat up in the chair and took a deep breath, he then wiped his eyes with his left hand, holding the gun to his head with the right one.
"What are you going to do with that gun, Jim?" Jim's body jerked again as he let out a small whimper of fear.
"Leave me alone." "You won't pull the trigger. You couldn't." Jim's pained expression changed rapidly to one of anger. He breathed in again and his right hand gripped the gun tightly.
"Yes I will. I'm not afraid." "Jim." The voice was louder. Jim's expression changed once more to a look of terror. He glanced around the room frantically and grabbed the arm of the chair with his left hand. His knuckles turned first a deep red before fading to pearly white as he gripped the hard wood of the chair.
"Jim, she wouldn't have died if you hadn't got involved." "I was only trying to help." He pleaded. He pushed the gun into his skin and it kissed his right temple. He shivered yet again as he felt the cold metal. He closed his eyes and thought of the outside, beyond the closed curtains and the singing birds. He smiled.
"Jim, pay attention." Again, the voice snatched him away from his thoughts.
" You killed that girl Jim. You did. Nobody else. Just you. How does that make you feel Jim?" "I didn't kill her. I didn't." "Think about it Jim. Of course you killed her." Flash. Jim starts to remember how it happened. A woman bleeding, panting, sweating, lies on an empty road overlooked by intrusive streetlights. A call for help. Her skirt has been torn and dirtied, she lies in pain as blood trickles from her arm and washes the grit from the concrete. In the distance a small man ambles along the pavement. He enjoys the night air, yet he knows he cannot stop to watch the stars. He has somewhere to be, and he cannot afford to dawdle. The woman now getting weaker stares up at the stars as more and more blood seeps from her wounds. Suddenly she hears a distant sound, Footsteps? She turns her head to see a figure in the distance. A call for help. The man in the distance checks his little watch. Right on time. His smile is wiped from his face as hears a soft cry and looks down to see a figure lying on the ground. He stops and stares for a moment. The woman on the ground just lies there as he glances to see the road soaked in her blood. She's now barely breathing as he kneels down and takes her head on his lap. She looks up at him smiling as her bloodied hand moves to his face. A gentle touch. The hand falls suddenly, bouncing off the pavement. She's stopped moving, fallen still. He begins to prod her as a small child would a mother but she does not move. Tears run from his eyes and drip onto her forehead. He then turns away, getting up and running off into the distance. Flash and Jim returns to normal.
"Jim! Do you see? Do you see how you killed her?" "I just wanted to helpÃ¢ÂÂ¦" He trailed off and began crying again. More fiercely this time. The sort of uncontrollable crying that usually results in loss in breathing. He tried to calm himself as the voice became louder.
"Jim, you know what you have to do." "No. I don't want to." He fought through the tears.
"Jim." A pause. "Pull the trigger." "No." "Everybody knows what you did, your friends, family and the police." "The Police know?" "Of course they know and that means you're in a lot of trouble." "Oh no." Jim's voice became even more desperate.
"Please, why is this happening?" "Because of what you did Jim." "But I didn't" "End it Jim. Pull the trigger." "I can'tÃ¢ÂÂ¦" "See? I told you, you're too afraid." "I'm not afraid." Jim wiped away a tear. He sat up in his chair, straightening out his back this time, "I'm not afraid." "Face the truth, you killed her. Now be a man and own up to it." The voice became louder and more hoarse with each sentence.
"I don'tÃ¢ÂÂ¦" "Pull it." "ButÃ¢ÂÂ¦" "Pull it. Pull it. Pull it." Suddenly the birds outside stopped chirping and a metallic sound echoed through the room. Only the refrigerator defrost turning off.