The girl held in a deep breath and began the job. The water was a cold deep blue. It was a suffocating frigid cold that clenched her wide open eyes. As it would normally, the never ending blue turned towards darker shades as she traveled down. One level at a time. There were familiar words to describe it. Confining. Demeaning. Depressing. A girl engulfed in the dark blue sea.
She thought back to the dream she long wished to have. Her parents lovingly cradling her small petite body. Oh, if only they knew just how much she wished to share it that loving embrace once again, to share the acknowledged kinship again wholeheartedly. But when she was placed in that confining cradle, she could never reach out to her parents. The physical contact ended. The warm embrace ended. And only her cries of pain and fear relished in their concern.
Like when she was older. A time when she could journey with her parents to the nearby shopping mall. The clothes selection there was vast. It was a tearful memory to a time of choices. They would prance about among shops in the colours of the rainbow. Each hand held one of her dad’s and her mom’s hand. And on each side was a shopping bag filled with the colours of their choice. They were filled to the brim with well contemplated desires, crumpled under the sheer amount, pressured down by the exact same others on the surface. Then, between the gaps of legs running about, she thought she could just spot her parent’s legs seemingly running about in a uniformed shadow. Their hands were gone. They were no more, so she thought “Why not?”, only to find the gleaming Santa in the loving embrace of thousands of other children. Two elves, whom the girl had mistaken, ran silently about in a practised fashion, attracting others with their stupid movements like her. Santa’s hand silently cradled a boy’s small frame. His eyes looked into the boy’s eyes, black eyes that which only looked spiralling down into the stone cold floor. From her reverie, the girl could only find herself lost among the sheer number of people under the black petrifying Christmas sky.
She saw her parents perched atop a tree, sitting on one of it’s many leafy arms. The elder tree creaked and swayed gently in the wind. She felt the light breeze sway in and between the gaps of her sleeves, ruffling the light fabric in an invitation to play. Her parents linked their hands and held each other in a warm hug while the girl’s arms could only helplessly wave about in the air. Yet, when she was even higher than her parents, she could only feel the vastness engulf her menacingly. In a recollection, the girl saw the familiar sky looming quietly above. The mountain she stood upon loomed respectively over the land below. Her gaze drifted over the ant-strewn city, somewhat resembling the dollhouse at the Nursery. While those small forms went about their daily lives, she felt a sense of melancholy, a yearn to join the normality of their lives. But the black petrifying clouds blocked her view.
So there she was again. From a grievous mistake on the road to an active robbery. The young girl felt her arms confined behind her back. A large hand pressed against the back of her head, ready to push her into the murkily polluted waters. The grey skyline glimmered from a distance with flashing lights shining through the grey fog. At that point, the man pressed her head down into the waves.
The girl held in a deep breath and began the job. Although the water embraced her in a confining warmth, it was nevertheless frigid cold, reminiscent of the black sky and the shadows of the looming tree.
The boys held in a deep breath and started the job. We picked up the appointed victim at the appointed time. Among the normality of civilians walking along in a uniformed fashion, he stood there gawking for the moment before the nab. Like bait to be lured. Lights whizzed by, glimmering from a distance through a shaded car window. Buildings and signs of life flashed by the speeding car. We arrived at a construction building soon. I got out, and the boys took the rich bastard from the trunk and onto the masses of steel beams. Between looking down, out onto the the dollhouse, and up towards the mountains of trees, everything just happened in a blink of an eye. From their argument, I could recollect nothing but mass confusion and illogicality.
The man knelt there silently, muttering but a few words of “god” and “please”. His arms were confined behind his back. One of the boys had his hand ready, a palm clasped on his scalp. Reminiscent wind flew by in the tense moment of wait, ruffling our dirty self-painted shirts. For the promise of money, this was simply the memorable routine. One of them held a gun, their arms flinging around in the air, waving about helplessly as no more height could be attained. Before I could comfort the poor fellow, his head was engulfed in a black punctured hole. Our mouths were engulfed in a fashion of hysteria.
“The safety trigger! The safety trigger!” was all that breathed out of the man who shot. His exasperated screech echoed highly down from the confining steel beams above. Meanwhile, the victim lay there quietly as if nothing had happened. His body had slipped from the fingers of the accomplice, and now lay there flat as a bed. Dead. It was simply a new bed for flowers to grow upon. And all we could think of was to bail.
I held in a deep breath and stood there quietly. While the men sprinted frantically for the car, I stood there stunned. For everyone’s sake, we never meant for it to happen. The liquid of his innards seeped between the gaps of the steel beams, disappearing into the wave of a suffering metallic red. It was just seconds later from the leaked tip that I realised I could only be embraced by the warmth of the blue siren.
I wonder how it came to be like this. I can still remember a time when life was luxurious. Contemplation was never needed. The only thought I could ever ponder was whether to respect, or to earn money in disregarding that respect. Like some would take to say: “Nothing more, nothing less.” And that was very, very true. Although we weren’t the richest family around town. However, life did indeed go in my favour. As it should.
In middle school, I loved to fight. That shabby school I went to held weak and miserable peers. I’d make them cower under my feet as their bruised purple eyes wander about, their broken hands clutching their heads in a frenzy to prevent an unconscious vomit festival in my honour. If only I hadn’t brushed past the group that simply made me retrace their steps with another group.
When I emerged groggily from the sea, I could only recollect from my reverie a small boy that looked weirdly a lot like me. The boy walked about the small stoked room. People, those he could call a second family, had poured into the room earlier. He was standing alone in the middle. When ready, a glass was raised in his honour, and a young man walked about the small stoked room, greeting others in a fashion like friend and family. The boy observed as that same young man walked through the passage of followers, up the stairs, out of the underground bar they were in, and into the nightmare of a grievous mistake that awaited outside.