Social Media Murder by Timothy Price

Author:Timothy Price [Price, Timothy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Heratre
Published: 2011-05-15T04:00:00+00:00

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The distant yellow street lights lit the room contrasting with the red glow of a burning cigarette. Two men were immersed in darkness, and smoke began to fill their lungs. A switchblade was thrown from one hand to another. Two dogs were barking in the distance.

“I’m in a very dark space right now. If I was a different person, you’d be worried, but I’m beyond that. I needed answers, I needed to understand why,” he said as he hung his head, looking down at the bottle in front of him.

The other man mustered a response, “Maybe you’ve just been asking the wrong questions?”

“Don’t patronise me,” he snarled as his lips curled and he jerked his head back in disgust.

The man pulled out his last cigarette, and tossed the empty packet onto the nearby table. It slid across the shiny surface and abruptly stopped, teetering on the edge. As he did this his switchblade fell to the ground. He didn’t pick it up; instead he reached for the revolver sitting next to him.

“There’s something inside of me that needs to be eliminated. Something you helped to create, but you left it with me, and you disappeared. You created the noose and you expected me to tie that rope around my neck, but that was never going to happen. Instead you will face the noose, you will face the punishment. You got me to this space but I’m about to let go of it all so that you will take on the pain.”

“I never meant it, it was never my intention, things change, people change.”

“People don’t change!” he moved the revolver up and began to point it, first at himself, and then at the man in front of him.

It was a gesture that both men infinitely understood.

He lowered the gun, and took in the last breath of smoke from the cigarette. He felt the rush through his lungs. He flicked the cig; it hit the top of the coke bottle, and bounced off. The realization of the moment he was now in overwhelmed him.

He stood up and walked over to the man tied to the chair. He was slumped over and badly beaten. His neck was limp and rested on his right shoulder. Blood stains remained on his shirt. Cold steel was pressed against the side of the man’s head. The man kept pushing against the beaten man’s skull until the head of the gun was flush.

“You made me do this.”

Pearce knew his fate, “I know… I … sensed this coming.” He closed his eyes. He thought of his life, his brothers, his family, he thought of Kat, he thought of C. Then his thoughts ceased as the trigger was pulled.

His breathing stopped, and all that remained was the revolvers breath.

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