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I AM SORRY, MOM.
I AM SORRY, MOM.

I AM SORRY, MOM.

TristanTristan

Billy paced back and forth aimlessly inside a small cubicle, his whole body trembling with fear, he was scared, his perfectly laid out plan has gradually coming to an awful end,the ordeal he now in was dead serious. A strand of sweat rolled down his forehead and rested at a slow pace on his left eyebrow. A gun held tightly on his sweaty palm, the grip on the gun was too tight he could feel his knuckles tearing apart. He started murmuring words to himself, too disorientated to think, nor concentrate.
A little sniffle from somewhere around the room brought him back to life, he quickly snapped his head towards the direction of the noise. A man was crouched down on the floor, his bloody hand pressed tightly on his stomach with blood dripping slowly out of his lower abdomen. A woman sat across side him, her eyes wet with tears, and her body shook with silent sobs. The rest of the terrified employees trying to comfort her, but that was wasn’t working a bit.
“I’m sorry” Billy rasped out, his voice raw from yelling out orders, his forehead glistening as sirens lights from multiple cop cars outside reflected red and blue on them from the opaque curtain. He could hardly think, the continuous and constant wailing of the sirens ‘wee-hoo!! wee-hoo!!’ drowned all his thoughts out, he coughed and brought his attention back to the injured man. The man wasn’t getting any better, his clothes were bright red, stained with sticky blood. Billy slowly turned away, his face getting green, he felt sick inside. “I’m so--rr--r-rr-y si--r” he choked and stammered out, ‘I’m sorry. You came out of nowhere, you tried to attack me. I had no choice. I’m sorry.”
The man completely ignored Billy, he face grimaced with pain, he groaned and coughed, as blood forced his way through his lips. His skin looked pale, and he was hyperventilating. “Why don’t you just let us go?!” The other woman who sat close to him chimed in, whilst tears streaming down her cheeks, “Haven’t he suffered enough?!” She yelled out, her tiny voice filled with anger and concern. She started crying again afresh. Her shrilling voice echoed throughout the entire room, it was evident she was in pain. Then she calmed down a little, a little sanity returning back to her, “Please, let us go.” She cried out, “Please.”
With the beretta on his quavering hand, Billy aimed at the door, as if using the nuzzle of the gun as his index finger, “Go!” He yelled softly. Nobody flinched, too terrified to make a move. “I said go!” He repeated himself again, this time around, his voice tensed. “Move it, now!” They murmured quietly as they got up slowly and sluggishly, dragging their feet on the tiled floor.
A shot rang out, a single bullet ripped through the 1.7 inches thick solid door, sending a wave of concussion and a deafening whirling sound that had everybody clasping their hands tightly on their ears as everybody scrambled away, rushing towards the door, bumping into each other as they crowded the door, making it hard to move. On the other side was the police and the medic, heading towards the exiting lots, checking the victims for anything suspicious, and lacerations, injuries and things like that.
Billy exhaled and then smiled shortly afterwards, the view was serene, peaceful, and comforting. He stood there staring as if he was in a trance, his eyes glassy, and his heart filled with regrets and remorse. A female voice yelling over the megaphone brought him back to his awful reality, “It’s over sir, step out with your hands over your head.”
Billy quickly ducked inside shutting the steel reinforced door behind him. He knew it was over, this was the end, this was it, this was how he died trying to help his mama. He knew he couldn’t serve time, it was the last thing on his mind, he sniffed the air, trying to resist the tears that was forcing its way out of his eyes. With one hand on his cash filled backpack, and a already prepared note with words scribbled roughly on them inserted mid-way on it, he closed his eyes.
He has already made a decision, a decision he won’t even live to regret. “I’m sorry, mom” He said to no one in particular, his voice breaking down between sobs. “I’m so sorry. I’ve to do this. I have to.” With trembling hands, he inserted the nuzzle of the gun inside his mouth, it felt cold, it felt like copper. Even with the gun partially inside his mouth, he smiled again.
Footsteps could be heard ascending the stairs, the cops were getting close, he heard them yelling out orders. “… move there. Hey, watch my six, take that open space. We don’t know the condition he is in. He might be armed with explosives, he mi----” BOOM!!
Another shoot rang out cutting the voices, Billy’s head jolted backwards with the force, felt like a million voices echoed inside his head,he was dead even before he dropped to the floor, blood smeared all over the floor, dark shades of crimson sputtered on the wall. His headless body thudded hard and sprawled out on the floor, with blood oozing out where the head once was. Brain matter was all over the floor, the beretta inches away from his twitching phalanges, his backpack and scribbled note stained with sticky blood.
IT WAS A VERY DISGUSTING SIGHT TO BEHOLD.

Author Notes: We all have a choice between right and wrong.

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About The Author
Tristan
Tristan
About This Story
Audience
PG
Posted
27 Mar, 2018
Words
923
Read Time
4 mins
Rating
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Views
865

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