Chapter Five: Choices affect the future.
Ronnie keeps looking at Kaisen, as if he’s seeing his past fold out on him, Kaisen sat exactly how Ronnie sat when he first came to this bar, giving Ronnie a glimpse of his past. Dzhoshua notices Ronnie’s hardstuck gaze on Kaisen, and smirks, saying,
“You see it, don't you?”
Ronnie turns his head to Dzhoshua and nods. Dzhoshua chuckles, finding this situation ironically humorous. Ronnie raises an eyebrow at Dzhoshua chuckle.
“What’s so funny?”
Dzhoshua looks at Ronnie with a smile, still seeing the humor in the situation.
“History repeats itself in so many different ways…” Dzhoshua then continued,
“Maybe I should go up there and give him some words of encouragement and advice.”
Ronnie looked at Kaisen then chuckled, now realizing the irony, and what Dzhoshua meant by ‘History repeats itself in different ways.’ Dzhoshua turned his head to Kizen, who was sitting over at the bar counter, after. Dzhoshua had his legs set in a weird style. Dzhoshua’s right leg was facing Kaisen, who was diagonal from him. Dzhoshua’s left leg was facing Ronnie. He looked stuck, like he was trying to decide something.
“Should I do it?”
Ronnie turned his head from Kaisen to Dzhoshua, raising an eyebrow, wondering what he meant.
“Huh?”
Dzhoshua turns his eyes to Ronniem, staring at him. “Should I repeat history?” Ronnie looked at Dzhoshua, then Kaisen before finally landing his eyes on Dzhoshua, realizing what he meant. Ronnie then shook his head,
“We don’t need another repeat.”
Dzhoshua then turned his legs and body fully towards Ronnie, and smiled. Ronnie then pulled out a pack of cigars, and gestured it towards Dzhoshua, Dzhoshua put his hand up, signifying a no. Ronnie then looked at Dzhoshua’s buddy to the left, he shook his head. Ronnie looked at Dzhoshua’s buddy to the right, he shook his head. Ronnie then nodded, lighting his cigar then smoking it. Ronnie’s gaze shifted from the cigar that he lit, to the three Russians sitting across from him(Dzhoshua and his buddies). Ronnie raises an eyebrow, curious about something he happens to look over all the times he went to the bar, and meeting them there.
“I’ve always noticed that your buddies always switch sides, but you always stay in the middle, Dzhoshua.”
Dzhoshua smiles at Ronnie’s keen observation.
“Yeah, we're like Oreos.”
Dzhoshua’s friends nod. Ronnie raises an eyebrow, not understanding the analogy.
“Huh?”
Dzhoshua just smiles at him, while his buddies smile too.
“Just know the frosting is what brings the cookies together.”
Ronnie raises an eyebrow and scoffs because of how dumb it sounds.
“I’m guessing you're the frosting, right?”
Ronnie says as puts the cigar in his mouth, taking a drag, then taking out his mouth looking at it, then Dzhoshua.
Dzhoshua nods. “Something like that.”
Ronnie just gave him a small “hmph” sound before smoking his cigar.
***
Kaisen drinks his beer, massaging his temple. He looks back at Ronnie. He seems okay, but Kaisen doesn’t. He keeps wondering what Ronnie said before at the station. Kaisen turns around and looks down, trying to calm down. He tunes out the surrounding sounds. The chatter, the barwoman washing cups, the jingle sound that is made when someone comes into the bar, and someone sitting beside him. The person that sat beside begins to talk, but Kaisen doesn’t know if the person is talking to him, so he ignores it.
The person leans in close to Kaisens ear, trying to get his attention,
“Hey.”
Kaisen realizes the person is talking to him and looks to lift his head up to face him. The person puts on a smile, a forced one at that, and holds out his hand to Kaisen and says,
“H-hey, my name is…”
***
I let out a sigh as I turned around to hide from the cold, that is of Detroit, by going back into my house with my revolver still in my hand. I closed the front door, and locked it. I turned my head to see the body of Kylie Michaels, and a sobbing Amare. I stared at Kylie’s then looked at the tv, playing whatever song played next after the Platters song finished. Then I heard a slight wheeze, I turned my head to the sound of the wheeze to see Kylie slightly moving. My eyebrows rose as I saw this, I was surprised she was still alive after I smashed her head into the ground a few times, nonetheless. The TV was still playing loudly, drowning any other sounds that could be heard. I took this opportunity and pointed my revolver at Kylie's head…and shot her. Her body stopped moving as her hands slowly unclenched. I sighed in relief then checked the moon clips.
‘3 bullets left…’ I said in my head as I put the moon clips back into the revolver.
I didn’t know where my mom bought this gun from, so I wouldn’t know where to go. This meant I had to use my bullets wisely. I looked at Kylie's body. I already know where I’m gonna put the body, but I already have two bodies in the trash can, so I needed to know…can three bodies fit in a trash can? Well, I was gonna find out.
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‘The garbage truck comes tomorrow.’ I said in my head again.
The garbage truck comes early, so I needed to make this quick and fast. I put down my Revolver on the floor, picked up Kylie’s body, and carried her, bridal style, to the kitchen. I put her lying down on the kitchen floor. I knew trying to fit three bodies in a trash can was gonna be tough, considering I had no trash bags left. But I had to try. I went through the backdoor which was a few feet away from the fridge. I walked through a gap between my fence and my house, which led me to the front of my house. There, the trash can was. It was off the sidewalk. I went to it and grabbed it by the handle to pull it up on the sidewalk, but it wouldn't budge. I tried again and again, but it wouldn't work. This time, after breathing in and out, I gave it all my strength and pulled it up on the sidewalk. I got it, but not without falling first…and so did the trash can. As it did, the cover opened, revealing my mothers arm and head. I scrambled to my feet and closed the cover before anybody could see. But I had another problem, the trash can was lying down on the sidewalk. Now, here’s the real question, can I lift a trash can that's carrying two corpses in there? Well, I didn’t give it much thought. All I thought I had to do was drag the handle, and try to lift it up on its roller as I dragged it on the rollers. But…it wouldn’t budge, all it did was drag itself on the floor. The weight of the two corpses kept it down. But, I gave it one last pull, then fell on my ass again. I tried to lift it up, but I was too weak for that. So, I used my back strength, I turned my back to face the trash can, I put my hands on the handle, and tried to lift it up. It was working until my knees got weak, and I dropped it, along with myself. I got furious after that, and kicked the trash can. I decided to show even more of my hatred towards it, and jumped on it, which landed a number of three times that I’ve fallen on my ass.
A man from inside his house watches Michael fail, miserably. Trying to move a trash can.
“Poor guy. Can’t move a trash can…” The man said, as he looked out the window of his room, watching from upstairs.
“Honey, can you help me with something on the shelf? The baby is not making it easy for my back, or my feet.” The man’s wife says, chuckling, as she looks down and rubs her stomach. She then looks up to the man, wondering what he’s looking at.
“Look at him, he can’t move a single trash can.” The man says as he points out the window at Michael, who is still struggling with the trash can.The wife walks up to the window to see.
“Oh…well, he’s fine. He can just leave it there. The trash men come tomorrow, they’ll pick it up. Now, What’s important is helping me get something off the shelf, right?” The woman says as she waves Michael off dismissively, then smirking at the man as she walks out the bedroom, then turning to him as she says her last sentence.
“But, honey, look at him-” The man says, probably contemplating to help Michael, and his problems with the trash can
“Which is more important, sweetie. That man over there, or the baby?” The woman says, cutting off the man, and leaning against the doorway of the bedroom.
“Yeah…alright.” The man says, not taking his gaze off of Michael, before he finishes his sentence to follow her wife.
After a few falls, and a few fails. I finally got the trash can into the backyard. I finally got the trash can into the backyard. I kneeled down, panting, after getting the trash can in the backyard. I looked over at the high picket fences that’s blocking any outsiders from seeing what I’m doing. I stood up and went into my house, through the backdoor. Since the kitchen and the backdoor were right next to each other, all I had to do was turn my head, and there was Kylie’s body…lying there. I picked up her body again, bridal style, and took her through the backdoor. You know, I never did like doing things one at a time, I always did things all at once. I carried Kylie to the trash can, I didn’t feel like putting her down to open the trash, then picking her up again, so I tried to open the trash can with her still in my arms. That only resulted in me falling, Kylie falling with me, and the trash can falling too, revealing my mothers corpse again. I let out a loud groan, even though it was my fault for being lazy.
***
After I got Kylie’s body in the trash can, I took it back to the sidewalk. I walked back to the backdoor. I went inside my house and closed the door, sighing in relief as that whole shabang was done. I look over on the floor, where the living room is, to see a pool of blood, seemingly where Kylie’s head laid. I sighed, knowing I was gonna have to clean that up.
***
I dumped out the bucket of water that was now filled with a mixture of blood after cleaning up the pool of blood, out the backyard. Letting the grass-filled backyard take up the blood-water. I then tossed the bucket out, with the rag in it. I then closed the back door, locking it. I walked over to Amaer, who was in the living room, still tied up, on the floor. Probably sobbing. Amaere’s mouth was still taped, her body on its side. I looked at Amare as she looked at me. Our facial expressions are polar opposites. I just have a deadpan expression, emotionless. Like I don’t care about what’s happening. Her face, scared as shit, like she’s gonna piss herself if something little happens that scares her. If I could define her facial expression, it would be fear. But her facial expression gave me a smirk. Seeing her helpless, seeing her hurt as she hurted me was too good. I stepped in front of Amare vagina to pick her up until I felt something wet beneath my socks. I curled my toes inside my socks, which curled my socks to get a good feel of what I was feeling. When I felt some soakness on the carpet, and my socks, I looked down to see the carpet soaked in liquid. Amare swallowed a lump as she looked at me, then away. My eyes widen as I realize what I stepped in. I grabbed Amare by the hair, and looked her in the eyes.
“You bitch! You pissed on the carpet?” I said as he yanked Amare’s hair, causing her to wince in pain.
I then stuffed her face in her own piss, smashing her head into the part of the carpet she pissed on. I hit her head against it once, I didn’t want to kill her. I then left her head in the piss, then kicked her head, causing a muffled moan of pain from her. I then dragged her to the crate, and put her in there, shutting it. I sighed, knowing I’m gonna have to clean up the carpet now. I kick the crate in frustration.
After I cleaned the carpet, changed his socks, I decided I too needed to pee. After peeing, I headed over to the bathroom sink, as I did so, I looked into the bathroom mirror. I couldn’t shake the undeniable feeling of seeing my father when I looked into the mirror.
Me and my father undeniably look the same, it’s something I can’t change. But with that feeling, comes a voice. I can hear it, my mother scolding me because I don’t walk in my father’s footsteps, I don’t live how he lives. She never cared about me, she only cared when I did something she likes. But, then again I did always want to be like my dad, but I could never catch up to him to be like him. It was like a dog and car thing, I’m the dog, always trying to catch the car, the car, being my dad, always outspeeding me. But if I were to ever catch up to it, I’d be like the car, because I’m as fast as it. But me and him are polar opposites, we’re on two different sides.
I chuckle as I remember a joke my dad told me before he died.
'`We're so alike that I could just give you my drivers license so you could go to a bar, and they’d let you in!’
I guess he was somewhat right. I also remember he gave me his drivers licenses before he died, Jesus, I think I still have it. I finish washing my hands, and go into what used to be me and my brother's room. I went to the bunk bed, went under the bottom, and looked for the drivers licenses. I saw it, it was wedged between planks that held the mattress up. I laid my eyes on the drivers licenses, that was my dads, and slipped it through the planks that kept it stuck to the mattress. I slid out from under the bed and held the driver licenses in my hands, standing up. I smiled as I looked at the picture of my dad. A tear fell from my tear duct as I quickly wiped them away and stuffed his driver's licenses in my pocket. Then, I walked over to my drawer, and opened it, searching through it like I was on a time limit until I found what I was looking for, my own drivers licenses. He looked at the drivers licenses with a scowl.
‘I love you, sweetie!’
his mom said in his head, as he reminisced about the past where he came home and showed his mom he passed his drivers test. I knew she was being sincere. She said that because it was what she wanted to see. It was like she can love me if I do something that pleases her. I wasn’t gonna think about it anymore. I went out of the bedroom and sat down on the couch, took out my father’s drivers licenses, and mine. I put them side by side to see the comparison. I saw some things; same black hair, same skin tone(obviously), and same suit. It’s just that my father had a big genuine smile on his face, and had the suit jacket on while my smile looked forced, and I didn’t have a suit jacket on, just a dress shirt and tie. My father looked like knew how to take care of himself, he had his nice slick-back hair to prove it. While me on the other hand, I looked…the opposite. There was a clear difference with the attire, and the facial expressions, and the whole thing. I decided to put the two licenses in my pocket, and sink in the fact that I’ll only look like my father if I look, and acted like him. After all, we are two different people, even though I came from his seed.