June 1964 - 2:15 AM - Underground parking lot
"What. The fuck. Is going. On."
Charles pointed at the pile of bodies sprawling on the ground. Trembling, he yelled at the woman noisily drinking a strawberry milkshake in front of him.
"Who the hell are they? No wait! Don't tell me. I don't wanna know. The less I know, the less I'll say when the police come to get me."
"You're overreacting. They're not dead."
"Yet! They're not dead YET!" He was freaking out.
"Nah, they aren't going to die. Bad children ought to be punished, not killed." The black woman burped.
"What should I do? Oh my god! Am I going to jail?" Charles paced around in a frenzy.
"Nah. They're mafia, the police won't say a thing. Relax."
"They are what? There are mafias in town? Wait, no, don't tell me!" The baby-faced teen plugged his ears. He wanted to cry. He shouldn't have listened to his father and followed this psycho.
"As a matter of fact, I can't see you. I can't hear you either. I'm not even here, how could I have seen anything? None of my business. Nothing to do with me. I'm going back home. Bye! I'll steal a couple of beers from Pops and pass out so I won't wake up when someone breaks into my house to slaughter me into pieces tonight."
"What a drama queen! Next time, I won't call you."
"Yeah. Brilliant idea! Next time, don't call me, call– What next time!? There shouldn't be a next time!" He howled.
"Alright, alright," she waved her hand, "can you drop me by Eric's?" She threw her empty cup on someone's head, sending them back to nothingness.
"Why do you need the Doc at 2am?" He glared at her.
"I got shot. My fingers can't reach the bullets," She pouted pitifully. "It's itchy."
"Bullets?! How many? Freaking hell! I'm gonna die, ain't I? I'm gonna die! I'm too young for that and now people will come and kill me for sure! Aaagh, why me? I just had my first date tonight! We watched the moon landing and it was so nice. Now, I don't even know if I'll be alive long enough to have a second date! Hell, I don't even know if I can make it past summer!" Charles wailed.
"You're overreacting! Come on, I'm bleeding rivers over here. Oh, can you stop to get me burgers on the way? I'm starving."
"Fucking hell, I don't even have my driver's license yet!"
***
May 1996 - 4PM - Apartment Downtown, East River
"Ah! Did you trash your place again?"
A scream shook the apartment filled with trash, shattered glass, broken walls and people.
"Get out!" A voice emerged through a pile of blankets on the sofa.
"What's that smell? Did you die in there?"
Charles trod with difficulties through the chaos, waving here and there and putting things aside. He opened the windows and let fresh air and sunlight into the dark place.
"Fuck off!"
Trash bags were filled, and a vacuum purred in the background.
"When was the last time you ate?" Charles tried to take away the covers the woman was hiding under.
"Stop it! Do you wanna die?" She resisted.
"When did you last shower? You stink!"
"Go away! It's none of your business!"
YOU ARE READING
Chasing Shadows
FantasyOne burdened by immortality who lives in the shadow of the death of their loved ones. One who lived in the shadows of their family. One who used to be bullied for their appearance. One who chose violence to stand up to their aggressors. One who woul...
