10 Years Later
11:48 AM
(Description: Something I had to write over a year ago for a class about me ten years into the future)
I steadily walked toward the door to the room. I was extremely anxious about the news about Kurt, my boyfriend. After he went missing I hadn’t seen or talked to him in almost a year. No one had. I ached to just hear his voice again, and as I edged closer to the door my whole body shook. I had never felt such uneasiness in my stomach before.
Ever since the phone call I had gotten saying they found Kurt, I could not eat or sleep. I was told no details but to come to the police station. My world was flip flopped, and nothing made sense to me. I was face to face with the truth, and I was not sure if I wanted to face it yet. I was no longer sure of anything.
I forced myself to open the door. The only thing I could make out in the room was two eyes. Gleaming at me, calling my name. “Alex Donovan?” one voice called to me. I quickly snapped out of my daze and found myself face to face with two policemen. I searched the room for any sign of Kurt still being alive. I found nothing.
“I’m sorry,” one of the policemen said to me, “Kurt Favero’s body was found yesterday morning by the Miami River. He had a bullet wound to the head and a gun next to his left hand. We are pretty sure it was suicide, but we’re still going into further research. I am sorry for your loss.” We talked for a little while. He told me about his wife and his two children, and I acted like I cared. He told me he would not know how he would live without them. He told me he could not wait to come home to them that night. That ticked at me for hours.
I am sorry for your loss? His words rang in my head. He had no idea how much pain I had felt, and he probably would never know. I spent three minutes staring at the policeman who said those words to me. I despised him. I envied his happiness. I longed for it.
I drove, dazed. I spent a year without Kurt and the one moment I thought we’d finally be reunited it get’s stepped on and thrown in my face. I had so much hope, and so much anger. How could he leave me like this? I thought to myself. I didn’t understand what happened. The past year of my life replayed over and over in my mind like a movie. I stopped the car on the side of the road. I put my head down on the steering wheel and broke down in tears. Then I reached into the glove compartment and found the answer to everything I needed.
I busted through the front door and into the house. I had never been so angry in my life. I wanted nothing but revenge toward everyone. I wanted to show that policeman what it really feels like to feel pain. To really feel sorry. I searched for a place to hide. A place to wait.
I found the bedroom upstairs and made my way into the closet. It reeked of cologne and cheap perfume. I almost gagged at the scent. But now was my time to wait. I made a small opening to the closet door so I could see into the room. I wanted this to be special, and I wanted my fury to be known nationwide.
After about what seemed like forever of waiting, I heard a door slam downstairs and three voices coming closer to me. I got ready. Suddenly, I saw a glimpse of something pass by my hiding spot. It was her, and now was the time.
My hand was shivering, but not from fear. I stood up quietly and slowly pushed the closet door open. She had no idea what was coming, and her innocence made the adventure more thrilling to me. My hand was on the trigger, it was calling for me. And with a loud BOOM I watched the woman, her body, tumbling to the ground. I felt a sense of relief. And I wanted more.
I heard footsteps coming up the stairs, it was her children. I got ready for another attack. I felt my heart racing. “Mommy? What was that noise?” they stammered, and then walked into the room. The fear on their faces when they saw me standing there made me smirk a little.
I pulled the gun up to aim at one of them. They both started crying, fearing what was going to happen next. I looked down at their mother, she was still alive. I saw her trembling, and that’s when I realized the bullet completely missed her.
A sense of reality struck me when I watched all three of them frightened and crying. I had no idea what I was doing, and the rush went away. My mind shut down completely, and a sense of guilt struck me. What am I doing? I thought, no one deserves this.
I spent five minutes in my mind, thinking. I was not angry at everyone else for Kurt’s death, but myself. I was trying to inflict pain on other people to make me feel better about myself. I realized that I was crazy. I was the person I loathed and hated.
Suddenly, I heard the front door downstairs open. It was the policeman that I had talked to at the station coming home. To see his family, the people he loved.
I felt very uneasy at that moment. I didn’t know what to do, so I just stood there. I heard him walking up the stairs, closer to us. My heart was beating with every footstep he took, and he finally reached the bedroom and saw me. I was standing there with a gun in my left hand, and his family quivering behind me.
The look upon the policeman’s face turned to dread. He gleamed at me with his cold eyes. I tried to bring myself to aiming the gun at him and shooting him. The result was horrible, and it backfired on me. He shot me.
The last ten seconds of my life I spent asking myself “why” over and over again. I didn’t understand how I could even think of harming someone like that. The fact that I tried to take someone’s life made me more angry towards myself than anyone else, and I shuttered at my cold defeat as I laid there on the bedroom floor.
I steadily walked toward the door to the room. I was extremely anxious about the news about Kurt, my boyfriend. After he went missing I hadn’t seen or talked to him in almost a year. No one had. I ached to just hear his voice again, and as I edged closer to the door my whole body shook. I had never felt such uneasiness in my stomach before.
Ever since the phone call I had gotten saying they found Kurt, I could not eat or sleep. I was told no details but to come to the police station. My world was flip flopped, and nothing made sense to me. I was face to face with the truth, and I was not sure if I wanted to face it yet. I was no longer sure of anything.
I forced myself to open the door. The only thing I could make out in the room was two eyes. Gleaming at me, calling my name. “Alex Donovan?” one voice called to me. I quickly snapped out of my daze and found myself face to face with two policemen. I searched the room for any sign of Kurt still being alive. I found nothing.
“I’m sorry,” one of the policemen said to me, “Kurt Favero’s body was found yesterday morning by the Miami River. He had a bullet wound to the head and a gun next to his left hand. We are pretty sure it was suicide, but we’re still going into further research. I am sorry for your loss.” We talked for a little while. He told me about his wife and his two children, and I acted like I cared. He told me he would not know how he would live without them. He told me he could not wait to come home to them that night. That ticked at me for hours.
I am sorry for your loss? His words rang in my head. He had no idea how much pain I had felt, and he probably would never know. I spent three minutes staring at the policeman who said those words to me. I despised him. I envied his happiness. I longed for it.
I drove, dazed. I spent a year without Kurt and the one moment I thought we’d finally be reunited it get’s stepped on and thrown in my face. I had so much hope, and so much anger. How could he leave me like this? I thought to myself. I didn’t understand what happened. The past year of my life replayed over and over in my mind like a movie. I stopped the car on the side of the road. I put my head down on the steering wheel and broke down in tears. Then I reached into the glove compartment and found the answer to everything I needed.
I busted through the front door and into the house. I had never been so angry in my life. I wanted nothing but revenge toward everyone. I wanted to show that policeman what it really feels like to feel pain. To really feel sorry. I searched for a place to hide. A place to wait.
I found the bedroom upstairs and made my way into the closet. It reeked of cologne and cheap perfume. I almost gagged at the scent. But now was my time to wait. I made a small opening to the closet door so I could see into the room. I wanted this to be special, and I wanted my fury to be known nationwide.
After about what seemed like forever of waiting, I heard a door slam downstairs and three voices coming closer to me. I got ready. Suddenly, I saw a glimpse of something pass by my hiding spot. It was her, and now was the time.
My hand was shivering, but not from fear. I stood up quietly and slowly pushed the closet door open. She had no idea what was coming, and her innocence made the adventure more thrilling to me. My hand was on the trigger, it was calling for me. And with a loud BOOM I watched the woman, her body, tumbling to the ground. I felt a sense of relief. And I wanted more.
I heard footsteps coming up the stairs, it was her children. I got ready for another attack. I felt my heart racing. “Mommy? What was that noise?” they stammered, and then walked into the room. The fear on their faces when they saw me standing there made me smirk a little.
I pulled the gun up to aim at one of them. They both started crying, fearing what was going to happen next. I looked down at their mother, she was still alive. I saw her trembling, and that’s when I realized the bullet completely missed her.
A sense of reality struck me when I watched all three of them frightened and crying. I had no idea what I was doing, and the rush went away. My mind shut down completely, and a sense of guilt struck me. What am I doing? I thought, no one deserves this.
I spent five minutes in my mind, thinking. I was not angry at everyone else for Kurt’s death, but myself. I was trying to inflict pain on other people to make me feel better about myself. I realized that I was crazy. I was the person I loathed and hated.
Suddenly, I heard the front door downstairs open. It was the policeman that I had talked to at the station coming home. To see his family, the people he loved.
I felt very uneasy at that moment. I didn’t know what to do, so I just stood there. I heard him walking up the stairs, closer to us. My heart was beating with every footstep he took, and he finally reached the bedroom and saw me. I was standing there with a gun in my left hand, and his family quivering behind me.
The look upon the policeman’s face turned to dread. He gleamed at me with his cold eyes. I tried to bring myself to aiming the gun at him and shooting him. The result was horrible, and it backfired on me. He shot me.
The last ten seconds of my life I spent asking myself “why” over and over again. I didn’t understand how I could even think of harming someone like that. The fact that I tried to take someone’s life made me more angry towards myself than anyone else, and I shuttered at my cold defeat as I laid there on the bedroom floor.
