Status: Complete! (:
Darkcide
Power.
.
.
.
I decided to walk home after I had finished grading papers. The air was cool and there was enough light to make me feel safe being alone. I placed my hands in my jeans and strolled through the streets.
Cars zoomed pass me on the highway. It was dinner time so every fast food joint on the strip was packed to the brim. It was also a Friday night. Some big game was happening at the high school. Football, baseball, basketball, it was all the same to me. I was never a sports fan in high school. I was the stereotypical nerd who loved chemistry. Now I taught it.
Oh, the irony.
The heels of my sneakers scuffed across the littered sidewalk as I took a detour behind the busy 7/11. It was quieter back there and I could hear myself think.
Every morning I arrived at work at seven. Every morning Allison and I would sit and chat about life and work. She was always asking me the real reason I moved to Amity Falls but I couldn’t tell her. Everything would be ruined if she knew and I would have to pack up my life again and run.
Allison. There was something captivating about her. She wasn’t overly pretty. Her eyes were a bit too large and her nose was slightly crooked, like it had been broken too many times to set straight again. Her auburn hair was long and bouncy, especially when she curled it. She was always smiling with her ruby red lips. Red was her favorite color. I learned that quickly. Allison always wore red.
She was an enigma wrapped in a riddle dressed in red. That was the only way to describe Allison Mavin.
I was so consumed in my thoughts that it took me awhile to realize I had taken a wrong turn. I was still fairly new to town so getting lost was something I frequently was. Glancing around, I tried to find someone who could point me to Rochester Road when I heard a scream.
My ears perked up and I looked in the direction of the commotion. In the shadows, I saw two men in black and a distressed woman struggling by a dumpster in the alleyway. Immediately, I was filled with confliction.
A few weeks ago I would have effortlessly ran over there and knocked the living day lights out of those scumbags. Now, when life seemed to be going so smoothly, I was stuck. Did I save her with a clear conscious and an exposed secret or walk away and let them have their way with the poor helpless woman.
My answer was made before I’d finished the thought. I pulled my dark sweatshirt hood up and tied the string tight to hide my face.
“Hey!” I bellowed, hoping it would scare them off, “Hey, assholes!”
They stopped and froze. The woman screamed for my help and one of them covered her mouth. I kept storming over in their direction as they readied themselves for a normal two on one fight. They had no idea what they were getting into.
The taller of the two snorted tauntingly at me, “Who the ‘ell do you think you are?”
I closed in the rest of the few feet quickly and thrust my fist into the side of his unshaven face. He yelped and crumpled to the ground.
“A concerned citizen.” I muttered darkly, turning my attention to his companion. He looked at me with pure terror in his blue eyes. He released the woman and backed up quickly.
“No,” He whispered, “No, no, no.” He stuttered stepped backwards and started crawling like a distressed crab on the dirty pavement. “Please, don’t kill me.” He pled.
I couldn’t help the cruel, disbelieving laugh that fell from my lips. It sounded muffled in my hood. The woman stared at me in confusion and awe. I picked of the nice purse they had been rifling through and handed it gently back to her.
“I suggest you find a new way home, ma’am.” I told her kindly. She nodded mechanically, her eyes large and conflicted.
“Who—Who are you?” She managed.
“A concerned citizen.” I repeated. I wheeled around to deal with the crony but he had disappeared. I cursed under my breath. I had let the douche bag get away.
I felt a soft, hesitant tap on my shoulder. Looking back, the woman was still there.
“Thank you,” She whispered.
This was how it started. One thankful woman turned into the front page of the newspaper with headlines reading: Hooded Vigilante Walks Among Us.
I wanted to feel regret for my foolishness but looking into her appreciative and shaken eyes, I felt pride in what I had done. I had saved her from years worth of nightmares, from never feeling safe again. Maybe even death.
Looking down at the knocked out assailant, I doubted they would have killed her. Maybe robbed her blind and shaken her up a bit, but they didn’t look like killers.
Still, I was her savior. I was drunk on the elated feeling it granted me.
I was supposed to stop this. This was a one off. It was in the moment. I couldn’t justify not helping the poor woman. It wouldn’t happen again, though. I wouldn’t stray from the beaten path. I wouldn’t walk into allies anymore. I was going to play it safe.
But, I didn’t.
I kept doing it. I kept strolling down dark allies and saving helpless people. The women were the most gracious. They begged to know who I was, to thank me. It was a power trip to know that any of them would have dropped their panties right then and there to repay me. Even some of the men would have obliged.
It was sick, my need to have that power, my need to hurt others no matter what they were guilty of. It wasn’t like before. I had wanted to help, to put bad people behind bars. Now, it was all about having the power. I felt like I was slowly losing my humanity.
The bad guys who crossed my path were increasingly coming out in worse and worse condition. I was going to kill someone soon if I didn’t stop.
But, I couldn’t.
Something inside me was changing. And it was for the worse.
My hand repeatedly collided with my newest victims face, making blood splatter everywhere. Bones cracked under my blows and the woman I had just saved was whimpering behind me, as if begging me to stop.
It was strange hearing the victims try to justify letting their attacker live. The noises they made, trying not to scream, to say aloud what they wanted you to do. I could almost laugh. Sometimes I did. It was a cruel, hollow laugh that even scared me.
“Please,” The woman behind me whispered, “He’s unconscious. He can’t hurt me now.” I could hear her weeping, the desperation in her voice.
This wasn’t about her anymore. This was about me. The man barely clinging to life in my arms didn’t deserve to live. I had the power to decide his fate.
And tonight, he would be my first death penalty. With one final blow to the skull, the man in my arms twitched one last time, splutter out his own blood before becoming completely still.
The woman screamed and fled, not even thanking me for being her savior.
I didn’t need her thanks tonight. I had a new kind of power.
The headlines no longer praised the vigilante they dubbed ‘Hoodlim’ (I’m not sure what genius came up with that name but he deserved to meet my fists). They shouted for people to stay inside because their ‘concerned citizen’ had gone rogue. There was no longer a helpful vigilante among them, but a terrifying menace.
They were wrong. I was doing everyone a favor. I was saving them, not hurting them.
Why couldn’t they understand that?
.
.
I decided to walk home after I had finished grading papers. The air was cool and there was enough light to make me feel safe being alone. I placed my hands in my jeans and strolled through the streets.
Cars zoomed pass me on the highway. It was dinner time so every fast food joint on the strip was packed to the brim. It was also a Friday night. Some big game was happening at the high school. Football, baseball, basketball, it was all the same to me. I was never a sports fan in high school. I was the stereotypical nerd who loved chemistry. Now I taught it.
Oh, the irony.
The heels of my sneakers scuffed across the littered sidewalk as I took a detour behind the busy 7/11. It was quieter back there and I could hear myself think.
Every morning I arrived at work at seven. Every morning Allison and I would sit and chat about life and work. She was always asking me the real reason I moved to Amity Falls but I couldn’t tell her. Everything would be ruined if she knew and I would have to pack up my life again and run.
Allison. There was something captivating about her. She wasn’t overly pretty. Her eyes were a bit too large and her nose was slightly crooked, like it had been broken too many times to set straight again. Her auburn hair was long and bouncy, especially when she curled it. She was always smiling with her ruby red lips. Red was her favorite color. I learned that quickly. Allison always wore red.
She was an enigma wrapped in a riddle dressed in red. That was the only way to describe Allison Mavin.
I was so consumed in my thoughts that it took me awhile to realize I had taken a wrong turn. I was still fairly new to town so getting lost was something I frequently was. Glancing around, I tried to find someone who could point me to Rochester Road when I heard a scream.
My ears perked up and I looked in the direction of the commotion. In the shadows, I saw two men in black and a distressed woman struggling by a dumpster in the alleyway. Immediately, I was filled with confliction.
A few weeks ago I would have effortlessly ran over there and knocked the living day lights out of those scumbags. Now, when life seemed to be going so smoothly, I was stuck. Did I save her with a clear conscious and an exposed secret or walk away and let them have their way with the poor helpless woman.
My answer was made before I’d finished the thought. I pulled my dark sweatshirt hood up and tied the string tight to hide my face.
“Hey!” I bellowed, hoping it would scare them off, “Hey, assholes!”
They stopped and froze. The woman screamed for my help and one of them covered her mouth. I kept storming over in their direction as they readied themselves for a normal two on one fight. They had no idea what they were getting into.
The taller of the two snorted tauntingly at me, “Who the ‘ell do you think you are?”
I closed in the rest of the few feet quickly and thrust my fist into the side of his unshaven face. He yelped and crumpled to the ground.
“A concerned citizen.” I muttered darkly, turning my attention to his companion. He looked at me with pure terror in his blue eyes. He released the woman and backed up quickly.
“No,” He whispered, “No, no, no.” He stuttered stepped backwards and started crawling like a distressed crab on the dirty pavement. “Please, don’t kill me.” He pled.
I couldn’t help the cruel, disbelieving laugh that fell from my lips. It sounded muffled in my hood. The woman stared at me in confusion and awe. I picked of the nice purse they had been rifling through and handed it gently back to her.
“I suggest you find a new way home, ma’am.” I told her kindly. She nodded mechanically, her eyes large and conflicted.
“Who—Who are you?” She managed.
“A concerned citizen.” I repeated. I wheeled around to deal with the crony but he had disappeared. I cursed under my breath. I had let the douche bag get away.
I felt a soft, hesitant tap on my shoulder. Looking back, the woman was still there.
“Thank you,” She whispered.
This was how it started. One thankful woman turned into the front page of the newspaper with headlines reading: Hooded Vigilante Walks Among Us.
I wanted to feel regret for my foolishness but looking into her appreciative and shaken eyes, I felt pride in what I had done. I had saved her from years worth of nightmares, from never feeling safe again. Maybe even death.
Looking down at the knocked out assailant, I doubted they would have killed her. Maybe robbed her blind and shaken her up a bit, but they didn’t look like killers.
Still, I was her savior. I was drunk on the elated feeling it granted me.
I was supposed to stop this. This was a one off. It was in the moment. I couldn’t justify not helping the poor woman. It wouldn’t happen again, though. I wouldn’t stray from the beaten path. I wouldn’t walk into allies anymore. I was going to play it safe.
But, I didn’t.
I kept doing it. I kept strolling down dark allies and saving helpless people. The women were the most gracious. They begged to know who I was, to thank me. It was a power trip to know that any of them would have dropped their panties right then and there to repay me. Even some of the men would have obliged.
It was sick, my need to have that power, my need to hurt others no matter what they were guilty of. It wasn’t like before. I had wanted to help, to put bad people behind bars. Now, it was all about having the power. I felt like I was slowly losing my humanity.
The bad guys who crossed my path were increasingly coming out in worse and worse condition. I was going to kill someone soon if I didn’t stop.
But, I couldn’t.
Something inside me was changing. And it was for the worse.
My hand repeatedly collided with my newest victims face, making blood splatter everywhere. Bones cracked under my blows and the woman I had just saved was whimpering behind me, as if begging me to stop.
It was strange hearing the victims try to justify letting their attacker live. The noises they made, trying not to scream, to say aloud what they wanted you to do. I could almost laugh. Sometimes I did. It was a cruel, hollow laugh that even scared me.
“Please,” The woman behind me whispered, “He’s unconscious. He can’t hurt me now.” I could hear her weeping, the desperation in her voice.
This wasn’t about her anymore. This was about me. The man barely clinging to life in my arms didn’t deserve to live. I had the power to decide his fate.
And tonight, he would be my first death penalty. With one final blow to the skull, the man in my arms twitched one last time, splutter out his own blood before becoming completely still.
The woman screamed and fled, not even thanking me for being her savior.
I didn’t need her thanks tonight. I had a new kind of power.
The headlines no longer praised the vigilante they dubbed ‘Hoodlim’ (I’m not sure what genius came up with that name but he deserved to meet my fists). They shouted for people to stay inside because their ‘concerned citizen’ had gone rogue. There was no longer a helpful vigilante among them, but a terrifying menace.
They were wrong. I was doing everyone a favor. I was saving them, not hurting them.
Why couldn’t they understand that?