A
man dressed in a black suit sits at the edge of a bed with his head in his
right hand and a revolver in the other hand. He raises his head from his hand,
his face red from crying for the better part of a week. He looks at his
computer sitting on his desk across from the bed. On the computer screen is a
picture of a nineteen-year-old girl. She has brown hair and blue eyes that
shine. She has a smile that could melt any man’s heart. Alice. His Alice. His
daughter. The way she looked before. Before she came home for spring break. Before
she had a run-in with a group of boys who wanted to have “fun.” Before they
pulled her out of the lake. Before they put her in the ground.
The
boys who did this will never see the inside of a prison cell. Not with their
rich parents and the sheriff protecting them. No one will help him find justice
for his Alice. Not cops or lawyers. No
one. The only thing he can do now is skip to the end to be with Alice and Jen. He
takes the gun and puts it under his chin. He starts to pull the trigger when
his computer makes a noise.
He
looks at the screen and sees an instant message. He decides to answer it. Maybe
tell the person on the other end to send the cops over so he isn’t left rotting
for a week. When he reads the message, he can’t believe what it says.
I can make them pay.
“What?”
Another
message appears.
I can make the men who took your daughter
from you pay. All you have to do is say yes.
Another
line appears.
One rule: You cannot kill yourself until
after I’m done.
The
man drops the gun.
What’s your answer?
The
man types in “yes.” A picture of a skull and two scythes around it appears on
the screen.
Outside
of town, on the only road into town, a black Impala drives along the lonely
road.
This sounds like the start of a very spooky story, Robert!
ReplyDeleteThis is a really interesting premise--it's also very Matrix-y, with the idea of someone talking to another person through a computer screen. My favorite sentence has to be the last one, though--it's very haunting, but detailed too.
ReplyDelete