The scene is brimming with professions of all that follow the sadness of death. The yellow tape is stretched along the road to bar off bystanders from getting involved. Officers are heard telling any that might be remaining in the area to back off and head to the safest areas forged from city officials. A crime scene member pulls the cloth over the young victim; a youthful gaze now in the defeated enchantment of demise. Chatter vibrates into phones and walky-talkies and dispatch codes are authorized for approvals into enforcement hierarchies. For these men and woman on scene, it was another day at work and while it was conceded that their emotions be culled, the sensation of odd circumstance surrounded their environment. Lyle watched on by his cruiser, staring at Kaye, one of the key witnesses of the horrific event. A crime scene investigator lead went over to Lyle to get his input.
"Nuts out here, never seen anything like this, you?" asked the investigator. Lyle begrudgingly peered his eyes towards the question, his arms crossed on his cruiser, "Not like this no. Anything turn up yet from initial response?"
"We talked to your partner over there, and all she said was that she heard a loud bang behind her as she was jogging by. Didn't even discern it was a body at first, thought it was a full trash bag or a big pile of shrubbery. The smell gave it away."
Lyle responded back, "No scream from the victim? Or a cry of a distress?"
"Nothing according to the miss"
Lyle inspected from his view where the body had landed in retrospect to the elevated circumference to get a rough idea, but no solid leads were forming a hypothesis. Kaye finished talking with another inspector and walked over to Lyle's direction. Her demeanor proposed a much calmer outlook, but not the cheerful cadet that had left earlier.
"How are you holding up?" inquired Lyle.
Kaye implied with her shaking hands and nonlinear stance an offbeat response.
"I'm not sure. I think if you give me a day or two, I should be back to my norma," she reassured.
"Not something you can shake off so keenly, you know?"
"Right."
"During those tense moments, all I could think about was that boy, and how it just….like that. Suicide is never the answer."
"Suicide? You think this child leapt to their death? He jumped out a three story apartment complex?"
"I'm still wrapping my head around how he landed and the spot of impact. It doesn't take a genius deduce that from the surrounding rooftops and windows- it's physically impossible to fall directly below, unless-
"Yeah, I get what you mean. The child would have had to have been ejected pretty fast out of the window to land where he did. Almost like he was running out as if it were an escape."
"But even then, I'm pretty sure I saw in the corner of my eye he fell straight down, like not even an awkward position, it was just splat."
"Hm, and you're sure nobody else had any contact with the victim besides you at the time of death."
"Now that you mention it, I did see this lanky high school boy walk past me, but he darted like a bullet train in the opposite direction."
"We'll need his testimony and account of what happened here for our records. Odd though, he'd run away like that."
"I don't blame him. He was caught in the wrong place and the wrong time. I wouldn't want to stick around a dead body either, if it were up to me."
"Regardless of what he feels, I want him in our custody by tomorrow at latest for interrogation. You're off till Monday, so don' feel obligated to do more than you can. You've had a rough start here, so do us all a favor and get home and rest."
"Yeah sure, a shower and a good night rest should do me in good."
Kaye walked past Lyle, as she entered another cruiser with an officer, ready to take her to her home. Lyle gazed his attention back to the crime scene, looking in all directions, trying to puzzle together the odd afternoon that was created. The names of all the building owners and occupants were being gathered for the follow up key witness report to usurp more data into the bizarre death of this child.
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Sensations of life filled Victor's body. Blood flowing through veins and the odor of an unkempt room filled the nostrils of the born again survivor. "Victor's" eyes were blank grey dazed and still, slowly pandering in all directions, vision a little shaky, as if something was disturbing him.
"Wh-Where am I?" muttered Victor. His eyes shook, and his hand held his head grasping for answers. He looked into the broken mirror pieces slowly. Without much concern and staleness in his voice, he responded, "That's not me." He looked around the room for anything that might help him understand his current predicament. A messy room with clothes everywhere, cologne, water bottles, used tissues scattered about the floor. "A mess. Gross." Victor walked into the bathroom to see that it was the same as the bedroom. "Whoever this place belongs to, he's a slob." He proceeded to exit the room and go downstairs and see more.
"Nobody is here. Does this guy live alone?"
Victor exited out of his home as the fading sunshine hit his eyes. He paused for a second as what felt like a jolt of electricity run through his mind. A brief flash of "his" past appeared before his eyes. Stills of a confrontation, a girl holding out her hand, and a street sign "Bard Ave" show, before Victor is brought back to reality.
"Bard…Ave? Why does that sound so familiar?"
Victor closed his eyes for a second to see if the name rings a bell. A breeze echoed out of the nearby trees and lifted upon Victor. He opened his eyes and proclaimed, "
This breeze too, I've felt this before." Just what have I been doing for so long?"
Victor walked out into the distance, sight-seeing, taking in the world, as if it were the first time. Nightlife on a Friday night was quiet compared to nearby cities due to the increase in crime. However, even in these circumstances, people still wandered about shopping and dining to let go of their weekly stresses. Victor walked by people talking, observing and wondering. A couple not paying attention to where they were going bumped into Victor. The girl in the couple proclaimed, "Hey watch it there kid."
Victor without much consideration turned around to hear and muttered to himself, "I'm sorry." The pair didn't pay attention as Victor stared for a minute in their direction. Victor's stomach barged out with a loud groan, signifying that his body was hungry. "Hunger. What was the last thing I ate?" Victor looked around to see if there were any restaurants and there was one on the far right side of the street. He peered through the window and looked at the customer's eating their meals and saw the meals that were being prepared. He looked very creepy, with a cold stare gazing and peeking at the private conversations.
From inside the restaurant, people whispered, "The hell is that guy doing?" Should we call the police, he looks sketchy."
Victor checked his pockets to see if there was a wallet of cash to pay with, and he pulled out nothing. Yet regardless, he walked into the restaurant. The bus boy at the front of the restaurant was looking at a document in front of him, before he acknowledged his presence.
"Good evening sir, how many?" asked the door busboy
"How many what?", as Victor dipped his head
"Uh how many are dining out?"
"Me."
"So…1?" Inquired the butler.
Victor stood there like an idiot as if a fish out of the water.
"Of course, right this way."
The busboy walked Victor into the restaurant as he paid attention to the customers looking their way to him due to his theatrics at the window. There was a small table at the back of the room with a rose sitting perched. A greyish white table cloth, and a chestnut wood chair waited for the young man to take service.
"Your waiter will be with you shortly, thank you."
"Um excuse me" – Victor inquired quietly tugging at the bus boy.
The butler held up and looked at Victor.
"I appear to not have any money – do you think it's possible to just get me a plate of bread?" That is still free, right?"
The butler walked away without even giving remark to Victor's request.
Everyone in the room seemed to have their gazes set on Victor. From the appearance of the customer base, it appeared to serve high end rich customers, who owned businesses or had ties to politics.
He thought to himself, "Was it always like this?"
Across the room, an escalated matter was taking place regarding an undercooked filet that a woman had ordered, and the waitress that was handling it was becoming pressured. The attention laid on Victor pervaded away for a short time.
"Ma'am, I'm very sorry about this, I'll be sure to take this up with the chef and get you a new one, ok?"
The troubled customer slammed her fork in hand on the table, "You best damn make it top notch quality this time, you hear me. You've already lost a tip, next I'll make sure your boss hears about it."
"What? You can't do that. I just take the order, and send it to the chef."
"Ehhh, what was that? I'll have you know that I'm a returning customer for over 2 years, they'll listen to what I have to say."
The waitress was becoming agitated and sucked it up.
Victor tuned in, ignoring his own waiter that had come to inquire his previous request.
"Sir, I heard you only wanted a plate of bread, is that correct? I can bring that out for you. Is there anything else I can get for you?
He pointed a slow gesture towards the girl, alien in request.
"That woman over there, do you know who she is?"
The waiter indulged, recognizing one of his own customers. "Oh uh that's Miss Buta, one of the city board members. She's usually a handful whenever she stops by, but she does make big contributions to our establishment, so it's overlooked." Not much of a listener."
"That's…nice, but I was talking about the waitress." The busboy beaked his jaw slowly, intending to start a sentence. He seemed hesitant, but answered anyways.
"Her name is Brianna, but that's all I can disclose to you. She's a new waitress here, nice girl from what I've heard."
Victor had his eyes on her current circumstance, as she looked flustered, but upon closer inspection, he noticed that there were abrasions and a pinkish sore color to her wrists and back of the neck. Like before upon walking to the establishment, a stinging white flash crossed his mind. This time, it was images of a gasp, and of bloodshot petrified eyes. The images did not line up with his knowledge. He resumed his train of thought, and took action.
"Excuse me for one second", Victor pardoned.
As Victor left his table, the waiter that was waiting on him drew an expression of disgust and worry. Like most in the dining area, they did not like his appearance and behavior. It was apparent at this point, he was a fish out of water, the people were indeed bourgeoise high class.
Victor approached Brianna, who walked away from the escalation with Miss Buta. Brianna was a petite young girl with black hair and great curves. She was wearing a black sundress, an accustomed outfit to the establishment dress code.
Victor grabbed the uninjured hand of Brianna, " Hey you're Brianna, right?"
Brianna responded with hesitation, "Hey what are you doing, you can't touch me",
"You're supposed to say, "how can I help you, yeah?"
She shrugged off his response and looked nervous around him.
"Those marks on your wrists and your neck, where did you get those?", inquired Victor.
"Uh-Wh-Huh? None of your business", she yelled.
"Obviously a nerve had been touched. I was on the right track, after all," Victor thought to himself
Brianna was now looking at the customer base, who with acknowledgements around tipped off that the young man was troubled.
"I can't explain how I know. but those marks, someone has been hurting you. Why aren't you doing anything about it?"
"What?"
She was dodging the question. Her eyes were not making contact with his, which suggested a type of avoidance. Then again, she doesn't know him, she doesn't owe Victor anything.
"Unless you speak up and address the problem, now answer the question."
"It's nothing, really."
"You're lying, I can see it in your eyes."
"Just leave me alone, who even are you?"
"Me? I'm –
Again, the same flash of white light blanketed and rummaged Victor's mind. It was reminiscent of a TV signal that cuts off when a turbulent storm rustles the wires outside. From behind, the waiter that attended Victor and another man followed to interrupt, tapping on Victor's shoulders,
"We're going to have to ask you to leave sir, especially since you are technically not a paying customer." We're asking you politely to leave before we resort to force."
Victor felt the pressure of the man's hand on his shoulder and peered his eyes over without turning his head. Both of the men looked to be around his age or a bit older. They had a masculine appearance that suggested they were wrestlers or into weight lifting. Thoughts swayed in his mind, how to approach the situation. A confrontation was not ideal to appropriate with this many people around. Understandably, it's not smart to get involved with multiple people. There was also the point of his own identity. It'd be unfair to ruin the integrity of the body the brain identifies as.
"I understand. I'll leave at once. Sorry to have made an inconvenience," as Victor bowed. Before exiting the door, he made one last glance at Brianna, as if giving one last mutable chance to convey what she knows to him.
"Creep. He was a shady one, who the hell knows what he was looking for", interjected the 2nd waiter. Brianna responded with a down look on her face,
"Yeah right.", she nervously muttered.
Outside the restaurant, Victor can only keep the image of Brianna in his memory. "That girl reminds me of someone I knew. Just who though?"
Inside the restaurant, the commotion of business resumed with everyone attending to their daily tasks. Brianna's concentration is shaken through the warning that Victor provided, as she looked at the busboys in the kitchen. A tear of sweat rolls down the side of her head, as her heartbeat rises. She kept her head down and marched into the kitchen to take a breather. Thoughts raced, as she became captured by Victors words. One of the busboys, a tall older man by the name of Austin interrupted her, concerned about the confrontation that had just occurred.
"I need to speak to you in private, if you'll come with me please."
Austin grabbed the young girl by the wrist and nodded his head to two others in the back to follow him, as they threw their aprons on the counter.
The swinging door revolved for the men and Brianna as they entered the backlot of the building where the employees smoke and take their breaks. They jerked Brianna out the door in a violent matter, her body nearly tripping over the asphalt.
"You went snitching to someone, didn't you?" inquired Austin.
Still shaken and expecting what is coming, Brianna answered, "N-No I swear – I told no one."
"Then explain who the hell that guy was, how did he know?." Austin retorted, his voice getting more wild by the minute.
"I've never met him before in my life, I'm telling you the truth."
Austin turned around, taking matters into his hand, addressed one of his friends to look into Victor's sudden appearance at the restaurant.
"Have any of you seen that kid around here before? I find it very odd that someone out of the blue waltzes in and starts piecing together what should be private between everyone here. You know what happens to snitches,"
He looks at everyone with a discerning face, inquiring to get to the bottom of the discussion.
"Go get that fucker and bring him back here. He can't have gone far."
Three busboys essentially ditch their shift and go in the direction that Victor was heading in to jump him.
Brianna walked slowly back into the building before being grabbed again by Austin.
"Get back here, we're not finished yet. Right?"
Austin started feeling up on her and pushed her against the graffiti filled wall that corners a fence.
Brianna, uncomfortable and scared, closes her eyes, squirms, waiting for everything to be over. Austin moves in to her face, starts getting excited, his towering breath over her face.
"Of course you don't mind. You haven't objected before, why would this be any different. Just sit still and I'll be finished quick. He started to unbuckle his belt from his jeans, still keeping his body close to hers. No matter how many times this has happened to her, her fear and trepidation does not change. She thought to herself, "Please, I don't want this anymore. I can't go on like this. Somebody please- somebody help me."
Outside the fence, the sound of groans and impacts are heard as the busboys are thrown into a bunch of tin trash cans, hitting the pavement.
"What the fuck?" Hey you guys good, get the hell up! yelled Austin.
Footsteps slowly cascaded from behind a blue pick-up truck from the parking lot, as Victor entered holding his hands in his pockets nonchalantly. Two gruff bodybuilder teenagers were lying in the sidewalk injured, with a singular thin teenager walking behind. It was a peculiar sight. Victor paid his eyes towards Austin and spit in the direction of the two men he beat to the ground.
"If I had a camera on me right now, it'd be so easy to incriminate you. Idiots, with your intellect, it definitely wouldn't have taken long for word to spread what you've been doing", answered Victor.
Brianna was relieved holding a hand on her neck bone, but looking at the reaction of Austin was also concerning. It was the face of someone whose options were exhausted. Austin's fists were clenched with weight, his fingernails digging into his epidermis.
"Fucking asshole, you don't know what you've gotten yourself into." yelled out Austin, now clenching Brianna's arm, posturing her as a trophy.
"You're angry. Naturally. You got found out. And so easily too. You weren't going to last long with that secret."
Victor turned his attention to Brianna, now in a reassuring tone.
"This all could have been avoided had you been upfront with me in the restaurant."
Austin responded with agitation, "You want to fucking go right now, I'll kick your ass right here right now, c'mon." Austin walked toward Victor, still hands in pockets, calm and unconcerned. Reaching into his pockets, the tall youth puts on a brass knuckle and reflects the golden portion into the sunlight.
"When I'm done with you, your jaw is going to have to be sewn shut for good. I'll teach you not to mess with me, the gang captain of the 308, Austin Waukesha!"
The two were circling each other, treading where they walked without taking their eyes off each other. Victor answered his intimidating scare tactics with a calm composure.
" Come on then", Victor waved
Austin threw a punch with the knuckle at Victor, however with a stern face, Victor swiped the motion to the left and kept his balance as Austin was heading toward the asphalt. His hands caught the asphalt and his body was contorted facing Victor again. With more ferocity and wildness being caught in a trick, Austin flung his fists at Victor again, who was dodging with flicks of his neck alone.
"Stay still damn it, agghhh!"
Breathes of exhaustion filled the lungs of Austin. Clearly not a natural athlete, the use of the brass knuckle is a resort to make up for the lack of absent experience of actual combat ability.
"Here!" Victor proclaimed, as he landed a solid right hook into Austin's jaw, sending his body upwards into the sky, landing into the asphalt once more.
Victor walked up to Austin's nestled injured body as his awareness was jumbled from the impact.
"Now, you're going to leave her alone from now on, right?" He clenched Austin's t-shirt and lifted him up. If you were just walking up to the scene, you'd be bewildered seeing the site of a tall skinny kid lifting up a football sized player kid. From behind where the two were, 5 cars engines pulled up and made a stop. The doors opened up, bandanas were worn with white dots and skull patterns.
Austin recognized the men and shouted out to behind Victor, "No, wait don't!
Before too long, the scene was covered in a shower of bullets. Austin's body was lit up with gunfire, as Victor used it as a body shield and ran for cover. The men shooting quickly fled the scene almost as fast as they had started shooting. Victor waited for the coast to clear before getting up, realizing the only one breathing was himself. Brianna herself was also caught in the crossfire, dead on the ground with her eyes lifeless set into the sun. In the corner of his eye, the people from the restaurant fled from the entrance of the restaurant understanding that a gun spree had taken place. He walked over and knelt to Brianna's body and quietly spoke to himself, "I'm sorry. I only wanted to help." He stood upright and looked at the sun setting. However, a startling blur took over his vision and a weakness fell over his knees.
"He….must be getting there. Wasn't expecting….that." Victor's body collapsed at the scene of the murders.
Inside Victor's mind, a checkpoint is reached. It is a nowhere, but somewhere that is known. Only a white fog with a brick road that leads to "life". Victor blindly follows this road, unconsciously knowing that it leads to the outside world. His natural instincts allow him to cling to life, despite throwing it away in a meaningless suicide. The environment changes and it's a ravine enshrouded with sand. Looking up, are two planets that look like Saturn and Jupiter, but the color scheme is purple and orange. It's astonishing, but alarming at the same time. His feet are walking on their own and into view, he comes to an incline, where it now becomes dark, almost as if he were climbing the sky itself. He reaches a threshold and sure enough, it appears he is sitting in the atmosphere of the earth itself.
He thought to himself, "I'm seeing the world as is. It should shock the hell out of me, but I'm not. I'm at ease. It's breathtaking."
He looks at the earth, and beside him is a girl with long black hair. She wears an all-white gown with tired eyes, but glistening red lips.
"Will you return? Asked the girl.
Victor turned to the girl, not shaken by the new entity beside him, and then turned his attention back to the earth.
"You're under the impression this is the afterlife, I'll correct you it's not."
Victor still didn't say a word, both now floating in a fictional atmosphere of the earth.
He turned to the girl, and heard a response only paying attention to the syllables leaving her mouth. Before long, his eyes opened in the real world to a crowd. And his hands locked in handcuffs. A period of what seemed like virtual black stillness, now like a broken dream—no- nightmare was occurring to the young man. No understanding of the situation, and no attempt to fight back. Haunted images flutter in his mind of his composed yet fretful persona pulling the trigger to end his life. He sat on the sidewalk banded, as a scene of frantic nogoers looked at him with pity.
He thought to himself, "Wait. What the hell?" Where was I just now?"
"I shouldn't be here…I had a pistol. What?", he muttered out to himself.
"No, no, no I'm certain I did, I remember so clearly. This can't be real at all….can it?"
A tarp was thrown over the body of Brianna to hinder the gruesome fatality and loss of a young life.
"D-Did I do this?" he weakly muttered to himself. He felt the shackles on his hands, aimlessly trying to break free. His heartrate sped up, and his anxiety now on alert.
Victor's body shook in the cold night from nerves and cold weather alike, unable to look anywhere into the surrounding area. Breathing started to become fast and shallow, and his chest started to hurt, contracting a panic attack. Much like waking up too soon before your mind can realize the sudden change, this too put enormous strain on the teenager's body. He was denied death, and left for a life he wasn't sure he could lead. The stark reality was setting in;what is the truth and what is fabrication?