I CAN SEE MURDER VICTIMS part 2
Read it yourself or check out my narration here
More wet sticky hobbling comes from the hallway as I enter my bedroom. I dig through the pile of clothes spread across the floor. I’m looking for a shirt that doesn’t smell too bad. On my fourth sniff, I hit the jackpot. This one actually smells clean. I keep putting off doing my laundry because Mrs. Doubtfire hangs out in the laundry room. That’s not her real name. It’s actually Kathy, she was 61 years old when she took her last breath. But she does look like Robin Williams in the 90s movie, so that’s what I call her. I think she just loves the smell of the fabric softener that lingers in the air down there.
Her murder wasn’t one of passion or opportunity, she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was the housekeeper of a rich man named Stephen who was 50 years old when he was murdered in his mansion. He was busy with a pile of blow in his office, listening to 80s rock as loud as the speakers would allow. He didn’t hear Kathy screaming before she was strangled to death. It wouldn’t have mattered either way, he was gonna take a shotgun to the face regardless. It sucks for his spirit because he has no sense of direction.
Every time I see him, he’s wandering aimlessly bumping into everything around him, Dumb brainless bastard. He always seems to know which direction I’m in because whenever I’m close, he B-lines his way toward me. Once I’m ready for work I rinse out my traveler’s mug that’s sitting on the counter next to my keys. I forgot to wash it when I got home from work yesterday. I turn to leave the kitchen, and there’s Troy, blocking my exit, yet again.
“I’m already running late, can you get the fuck out of my way… please.”
He steps aside, and I flip him the bird as I grab my keys and walk out my front door. I lock it behind me and Jenn gargles in my ear.
“I really wish you wouldn’t do that so close to my face. It’s pretty gross.”
I’m hoping that Troy stays here today, but as I hear the dead bolt slide into place, I also hear wet thudding approaching quickly on the opposite side of the door. An arm that’s been severed just below the elbow, moves through the solid wood door.
“I hope you can run faster than that, Troy, I’m taking the stairs today.”
I hurry toward the stairwell and run down it as fast as I can, jumping down 3 steps at a time. I think I’ve lost him, but approaching my car, I see Troy and Trevor loitering behind my beat-up Civic. I sigh and shake my head in defeat. Maybe I’ll beat him down here tomorrow. I take a swig from my coffee and savor the sweet taste before setting it on the roof of my car. I look at the dents in the stainless steel of my to-go mug from that one time I was running late and started driving with it sitting where it is now.
“Yo! one-eyed Willy! You coming or not?”
He and Trevor exchange glances that make me feel uneasy. Another sigh escapes my throat. I grab my mug and slide into the driver’s seat. On my third attempt, the engine finally roars to life. I know the old girl doesn’t have much life left in her but it could be worse.
“At least she’s not missing an eye, am eye right?”
I turn to Troy with an open-mouthed smile. I get nothing. My joke goes ignored by Troy already sitting next to me. His foot and… stump disappear into the collection of cardboard coffee cups that litter the floor. I check my mirrors. Trevor wears a horrified look as if he’s about to be mowed down. I shake my head and begin to back out anyway. I hear sobbing and slight banging coming from the trunk of my ‘93 Classic.
That’s Brittany. She was 31 years old when it was her time to go. Another one whose spouse was blamed for her murder. His case is still ongoing though but I’m sure they’ll find him guilty as well. They’ll never know that she and Jenn were murdered by the same person. Britt suffocated in a suitcase in her husband’s trunk. It wasn’t until her corpse began to stink that her bruised and beaten body was found. I pull out of the parking garage and see Stephen’s holey head spin around. He’d be looking right at me if he had eyes.
” Look at Stephen, it could be worse. At least you can still see right, Troy?… And there’s that judgy look again.”
Stephen starts his sprint toward me, but I speed up and lose him quickly. A few minutes later, I pull into a local café. The barista is cute, her name is Amanda, and she’s very much alive. We’ve flirted on more than a few occasions when I stop in to get my morning coffees. Troy stays in the car while I head in. Amanda and I smile and talk casually as she pours sweet, sweet java into two take-out cups. At least one of them will be added to the ever-growing pile on the dirty floor of my Honda, but she doesn’t know that.
I’ve been working up the nerve to ask Amanda out for dinner and drinks. I know she’ll say yes, or I hope she will anyway, but I’ve always been a bit wary when it comes to talking to women. I get back to my car where Troy is waiting for me, eyeing the time. I know I’m running late, my boss knows I’m running late. It’s become a common thing, so I know I’ll be staying late today to make up for the missing time.
I sit in traffic trying to drown out the sobs and thudding coming from the boot with the talk radio that emits from the only speaker that still works in this POS trashcan on wheels. We’re slowly creeping up to the overpass that Kyle was pushed from 2 years ago. He was 27 years old when he fell to his death. I see his broken body standing in the middle of the road. He’d probably cause an accident if I wasn’t the only one who could see him. He was another special one. Ruled a suicide. His family still doesn’t believe it. He had an amazing life, he came from money, he was well-liked, had a great job, and a baby on the way. Last I heard, his parents were still up the ass of the police department to reopen the case, but I know they won’t. I see Troy shaking his head in my peripheral vision.
“You really gotta stop judging people, you judgmental asshole, it’s a wonder why you weren’t murdered sooner.”