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Pain fills my chest as I know my plan and how it will end. I’ll have to leave her and the illusion of normalcy. When it is all over, revenge will be complete, she will be safe, and I can step away knowing that this world is safer from the people like the DuPonts. Before I go… before the last man falls on the totem pole, there is something I must address.
Arriving at the park, I walk around the perimeter. I glance up through the trees and take in the surrounding environment. The buildings before me surround the park and they give excellent views from above. I head to the middle of the park, wanting to take a better look at the massive structures. The inexperienced shooter still lingers in the back of my mind. Who were they? Why did they do it so publicly?
Thinking back to where I was facing as the shots were fired, trying to remember which direction the wind was blowing to give me an indication of which building the shots came from. I stand taller as I set my sights on my target, wanting to challenge it to test me one more time. I stomp toward the building on a mission. On the corner is a violinist strumming with passion. Dreadlocks cover half her face, but the melody builds, waiting for the climax. I walk along with the strumming of the bow against the strings.
I walk in the door and glance at the directory. Pediatrician’s office, health and wellness center, rehabilitation center, accounting offices… accounting offices. There is a taped sign over the accounting services sign that says temporarily closed.
I take the elevator up to the floor where the accounting firm is located. When I step out, I can smell the construction zone before I can see it. Like a hound, my nose follows the scent to the scene. The door is locked, but I don’t fret. Adam, you’ve got this. I pick the lock easily and push through the door, swiping past the large plastic layers that keep out the dust and remnants of construction that are scattered about.
I walk straight toward the window and slowly follow along, trying to find the start of my evidence. My hand runs up and down the window to look for discrepancies in the glass. There you are, you sneaky little shit. The perfectly circular hole where there is an unobstructed view of the park. I crouch down and hold my hands up, mimicking the shooter. Angling my arms, pretending to look through the scope of the gun and moving my body to how they would need to sit or lie. They are shorter than me by the level of the hole. I don’t see any shell casings, which doesn’t narrow down the gun for me. I didn’t even think about going back to the park to try and recover the discarded bullets. Next step is to find their calling card. Every sniper leaves something behind. Something to say, “I was here.” In my search, I look down and find a diamond. A single full-carat diamond.
A light switch flips on in my mind and I roll over onto my back, screaming at the ceiling. “Ahh! Fucker!”
Sweat forms on my brow. I know who you are?! Why?! I left you in my past!
There is always more with this person, so I stand to hunt for it. My eyes follow the top corners of the room, to the top of the saws, the drills, by the doors but nothing. Then… the ceiling fan.
I let out the most sinister laugh I can muster. Pointing at the camera that is mounted on the fan and is, in fact, facing me. I smile. “I see you! You dead motherfucker!”
I take the diamond, shove it in my pocket, and then stomp out of the disaster of a workspace. Taking the elevator down to the street level, I’m on high alert. Exiting onto the street, the violinist’s tune catches my ear. Etta James’s “At Last” plays through the strings. You have got to be shitting me. Iwalk toward the violinist until they notice me.
“I know who you are!” I scream at them.
The music stops as they lower the bow and violin. They take off running toward the alley and I know there is no escape from them there. Gladly, I follow, running as fast as I can to catch up with them. Remnants of their clothing are sloppily discarded, leaving a trail behind. The wig of dreadlocks, hat, cover, shirt, skirt. One by one, it leads to the end of the alley and they are not in sight.
Breathing heavily, I check the doors to see if they are ajar. Nothing looks disturbed. I tiptoe with precision but trash crackles under my feet. “Fuck!” I express.
The blonde hair whips over the dumpster, and the side of my face contorts in pain. She lays a nice hit to my jaw, causing me to stumble back. The kick to my chest knocks me on my back.
I lie on my back for an extended moment, letting out a hiss, then laugh at my predicament. This bitch.
“Hello, Jessica,” I spit.
“Hello, husband!”
“We were never married. Close, but never married!”
“I had the ring.” She points to my pocket. “You were mine.”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” I shake my finger at her and stand up. “I was until you made me realize that you were not what I wanted. I didn’t want to settle. I saw you for who you truly are.”
We square up to each other and wait for who will make the next move.
“You were never there.” She taps her finger on her head. Insinuating that I wasn’t mentally there for her.
She’s not wrong. I shrug my shoulders and nod. “I wasn’t.”
I went through the motions of everything. I wasn’t ready to settle down. Shit, we met at a party on base and were hot and heavy from the moment we touched. Jessica was a good fuck, and it was an easy call to get her in my bed or me to hers. Neither of us realized how long we had been banging until someone mentioned we should get married. Both of us said screw it. Why not? She was more about the wedding and appearances. The benefits the military provided for married people were worth tying the knot. That’s why everyone is quick to get married. Everything was easy and fun, but there was no substance between us. It’s not like what I feel for Reese.
One day, I woke up and felt empty and trapped. Suffocating from the pressure to be the man she expected. I was a boy, immature, reckless, stupid. I didn’t care about her or her feelings. We were standing at a bar a week before the wedding and I watched her flirt with another soldier. I wasn’t jealous or angry. I felt nothing. So, that night I ended things. She beat the shit out of me and I did little to stop her. A few months went by and I didn’t hear from her until I left another base party with some random chick. This girl was visiting with her best friend, who was dating someone on base. Jessica found my new apartment and beat on the door, cockblocking me. She scared the random chick to tears. I laughed when this woman cried and ran to the closet to hide from my crazy ex. When I opened the door to my apartment, Jessica beat me again. I effortlessly pushed Jessica off me until she finally relented and left. The random girl rushed from the apartment when the coast was clear. Clearly, this random chick couldn’t handle shit. The stalking from Jessica continued for several months until they gave us our orders to different places. It was then that I found cameras, and hidden microphones in my apartment. Jessica had pretended to be my wife or sister to get my personal information. She worked in the technological part of the service. She was smart but horrible at the physical aspects. I haven’t seen Jessica since… until now.
Jessica stares me down with such hate. “I did everything for you!” she screams, again, not wrong in her statement.
“You did,” I agree with her.
She grunts and jumps at me. Her knee digs into my stomach, assisting her body upon mine and her arms wrap around my neck, pulling my head down to meet her other knee. Right. To. The. Eye! I fall back again and just lie there. I can see some stars moving around my eyesight and I can hear her walking around me.
“All you had to do is say—I do.” She drops her body on me, driving her elbow into my stomach.
