Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Losing Memory.

I got settled into my uncle's loft, it's quite cozy having everything in one room.

But the reason I'm losing memory, well is something I want to figure out.
The last thing I remember last night was leaving the apartment. I needed some air, and it was massively awkward being in the same place as Malkin. I got on my bike and started riding into town. I remember the neon lights, the dark street corners, and the small amount of people crowding the streets with night life.
I weaved my way through the streets, getting lost in thought. I stopped at a red light. The colors of red reflected off my helmet and puddles in front of me. I looked at my right arm, seeing the bandage at my shoulder, and the bandage at my wrist concealing the Operator symbol. I ripped it off and let the bandages float to the ground. I looked at the tattoo, I felt its black lines with my fingers, and saw the red light change to green from the reflections. I continued the maze.

But that was it. I remember smiling, feeling like a weight heavier than the bandage was lifted.
Then a long gap, between 11 to 4 in the morning.
But I fucking remember everything after the gap of memory.
My eyes shot open to see the dark living room of the loft. My right arm was stretched out in front of me, bleeding like a mad man, from my shoulder though, the blood was going around my tattoo. It took a couple seconds for everything to kick in.
Kyle's gun was facing me on the floor, bloody like my hand. Then my heart kicked in, beating like a train on a track. My eyes widened. My breathing became hard and deep.
"Fuck.. fuck fuck fuck fuck," I said, slowly getting louder with every 'fuck'. I lifted myself from the floor, holding my right arm, sitting on the stained carpet. I looked around, the door was open, cold air was bursting in, rain poured, drowning out everything. My ears pounded with my head and I pulled myself up, stumbling around, trying to find balance.
"Did I fuckin' shoot myself?" I questioned still in shock.
But there were no bullet wounds on my shoulder, the burn from a couple weeks ago had reopened and gotten larger. And the blood wouldn't stop coming out, trickling off my fingers. I clenched my teeth, forcing the pain in.
I looked over to the couch.
I blinked multiple times.
Kyle stayed in my vision. He sat on the couch with the gun in his hand. Messing with the trigger.
He looked at me. Was he real!? I couldn't figure out!
He smiled and opened his mouth to speak "Wanna remake history?" He asked ticking the gun against his white smile. He opened his mouth, putting the gun all the way in.
"KYLE! Don't!" I stepped closer to him, not wanting to get close. Was he even real?
"You did" he simply said.
The gun fire was so loud to me, I nearly screamed. Well I did, but more in a hysterical manner.
To realize the gun wasn't in his mouth anymore...
A bullet hole cut through his skull, blood and flesh splattered on the other side.
No emotion, no eyes, no soul.
I looked down, to my right hand trembling with the gun. Smoke still rose from the barrel, as my blood dripped off the end. How did I get the gun?
The fear, the shock, the chaos that my mind held... I knew it wasn't fucking real. But it was hard to believe. I dropped the gun, and stumbled over to Kyle's body.
I reached for the couch, to nothing but leather.
And a bullet hole, piercing the cushion.
Tears stormed down my face, mimicking the rain.

A couple hours later I got to my senses and fixed my arm. I cleaned up the blood stains today, and was speechless the rest.

It was just like mom said, I killed Kyle.
I'm so lost.

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