[FWC 16] Friend

Post all your stories, poems, and haiku's here!

Moderator: Moderators

Post Reply
Message
Author
unsteddyPhoenix
Grand Templar
Posts: 2253
Joined: Fri Oct 08, 2010 10:56 am
Location: Marching into the mouth of hell.

[FWC 16] Friend

#1 Post by unsteddyPhoenix »

This one was a pain to start, and it's a far cry from the original concept, but dangit it just feels good to get it in. I'm not sure how good it is but I guess that's for y'all to decide, isn't it. Have a read, chuck me some tips.



Friend
[/b]

The sirens broadcasted their song fearlessly, and their flashing lights temporarily illuminated the dark room for less than a second at a time, revealing many unchanging faces all locked in place; staring at him. His gaze, however, was only on me. We stared at each other and, like many times before, saw through each other instantly. Wordlessly I walked to the side of the room where most people were, mimicking their collective pose as I dropped to my knees and raised my hands above my head. Not a single one of them noticed me do so. He didn’t even react to my movement, we both knew it was over. I could tell he was aware what had happened, and the fact that he didn’t blame me only magnified my guilt.

We’d known each other for a long time. Acquaintances in primary and intermediate schools, close friends as we were placed next to each other in high school, and closer still as we picked the same path in university. A chance friendship, but a surprisingly resilient one. We were easily at the level of “best friends”, but neither of us felt like verbalising such a concept, and alienating the other friends in our group. That’s the kind of synergistic thinking that probably made us closer than most. We were a far cry from identical though, he was always the “popular” one. He displayed the kind of personality that that was goofy and non-serious while just stopping short of being an annoying “class clown” archetype. People flocked to him, finding solace in his ability to improve their moods. When we were alone though, he mellowed out somewhat. Judging by the few times he had talked about his family, and his lack of any substantial romances, I was probably the only one he talked about any serious topic with. He opened up about his disillusionment with the world around him, and I agreed. I opened up about my various insecurities, and he listened. We explored concepts, discussed theories, and made plans; some were sincere, some merely wild fantasies that solved all our problems immediately. Well, that’s what I believed at the time anyway.

The moment he stole the documents and told me he was going through with the “plan” we had made, was when I realised how badly I had wronged him. How deeply those conversations I considered idle had affected his thinking. The things I said offhand at the time about how I would support him if the time came I now understood were the most disgusting lies. Even as I agreed to help him, I knew I didn’t have the conviction that he had. I was afraid. I told myself I had to try, even if it meant going down with him. I couldn’t let him know the depths of my betrayal, so I decided I would follow him down this path and see him off at the end.

It was all so easy for him at first. Even when people were confused and making accusations, his name never even came up as a suspect. How could this goofy guy that everybody loved pull something like this? He had been hiding his true nature his whole life, hiding it for a few more hours was the same as breathing for him. When people started dying though... I couldn’t do anything but watch it unfold. I was stunned when I learnt he had planned from the beginning for certain people to die for the plans success. He killed them without anyone noticing, hid the body, ran to the bathroom to throw-up, then came back and apologised for the wait as if he had simply forgotten something from his car. His voice was as calm as it usually was, but he couldn’t control his bodily reaction to taking a life. His hands shook uncontrollably and his face was paler than I had ever seen it, but he pushed through his feelings of disgust and controlled them. Deep within my horror there was a trace of admiration… and within that, understanding. Even after I had reported him, a factor he hadn’t considered, I didn’t directly confront the crime. I simply went through the motions and waited.

I knew it was the “right” thing to do, but it was so easy for me to see things from his perspective that I couldn’t stop myself. I don’t know if his plan would have worked, but everything seemed to have been going well. After he sold the documents to a rival company, he’d have enough money to never work again. The company that was robbed would hide the fact they had a corporate spy in order to protect their stocks from being sold by panicking investors, he’d split the money with me and we’d flee somewhere (I never found out where). In his plan that he believed would lead to his freedom from mundanity and the happiness he had been chasing his whole life, he was betrayed by the one person he had ever trusted; me.

I understood. I understood it all, but regardless of whether the plan worked or not, I couldn’t live that life, I couldn’t live with my already palpable paranoia being now amplified by being a bonafide criminal. Every day wondering when police would be knocking down our doors, jumping at every distant siren, cringing at every probing question. I suppose the fundamental difference between us was that he viewed life with an almost mathematical philosophy. “It’s better” he proposed “to live 10 years free than 50 years jailed, don’t you think?”. I laughed at the idea, called it an oversimplification, but he was oddly insistent. Eventually the topic changed and it was never brought up again.

Even when he heard the sirens, and looked towards me and understood. Understood that my decision was to live through this trying period and see what the future had in store. He didn’t give up immediately, he stalled for time with hostages and threats as he tried to find a way out of the situation. Eventually the police gave him an ultimatum: surrender, or they would charge. I had already asked him not to kill any more people; and it didn’t take much convincing. We had both already discovered that murder wasn’t as easy for him to accept as he thought.

As soon as the ultimatum was proposed I knew that was the moment he had given up, and as I walked across the room to join the hostages significant doubt began to plague me. He had betrayed a society we loathed, and I had betrayed the strongest friendship I’ll ever know. Put like that, I was the monster and he was the victim. Morality, justice, responsibility…these factors that had been the driving force behind my betrayal and that had seemed so important my entire life, had never seemed less significant. The people cowering around me, the people outside this room… never had they seemed more unimportant. The only person who had really supported me was their enemy. It was supposed to be him and I against an uncaring world. He wasn’t supposed to be alone.

His gaze eventually left mine, and I hung my head and grit my teeth in frustration. I could tell he wasn’t even angry at me, though I didn’t understand why. Maybe held societies pressures accountable for my actions instead of me, maybe he didn’t even expect to succeed in the first place, or maybe he simply understood me like I understood him. All the fearful eyes in the room still focused on him, he began a forced march towards the inescapable encampment of police encampment. As he passed me, I noticed the tight grip he had on the gun in his hand, and my suspicions on his next move was confirmed. It was obvious, really. How could a man who had only ever wanted to be free from the system spend the rest of his life in it? I understood and I didn’t even bother pleading with him. Whether it was because I knew it was pointless or I knew if I did I would be ousted as a co-conspirator, even I’m not sure. Tears cascaded down my cheeks as my head remained pointed towards the floor.

At this point the sirens had become part of the background noise, so the lazy shots dominated everyone’s attentions as penetratingly as if they had been fired into silence. What followed after a minuscule pause was a cacophony of bullets that I knew signified the consolation prize my friend must’ve desired for a long time but been unable to attain alone.
They said it was “lucky” that only one person had died. I knew it wasn’t. He had missed on purpose, the only reason he fired that gun again was to goad them into firing back. They interpreted my tears as ones of relief, they chalked my silence up to shock, they decided my defense of his character was denial, some even considered Stockholm Syndrome. In the end they decided I wasn’t important and let me go.

As I continued through reality my feelings of alienation increased. My values returned to me somewhat, enough to balance my confusion in a way where I couldn’t discern a “right” answer. I was in a stupor, jailed by my own confusion. I began to make an absurd amount of errors, things that I normally would have reacted to and stopped I simply let happen. I cut myself cooking, filed erroneous reports, forgot important dates; I was deteriorating at a shocking pace and the one person who would have noticed was gone. When I walked onto the road at the wrong time, my mind knew I had enough time to get back to safety, but I didn’t react until much too late. As the grill of the truck began to dominate my vision, I let out a sigh and closed my eyes. “At least” I thought to myself “I won’t have to think for a while.”
Tom wrote:The entire Basitin race is actually just a group of extremist LARPers.
ImageImage

User avatar
Jarlath
Citizen
Posts: 66
Joined: Thu Nov 17, 2016 3:51 pm
Location: Near a loving wife in Canada.
Contact:

Re: [FWC 16] Friend

#2 Post by Jarlath »

As soon as the ultimatum was proposed I knew that was the moment had given up,
Missing a word? moment he had given up?

A powerful story BTW. Unfortunately survivor's guilt exists...
Nicely done in the consistent tone and a full story without dialog.

Just my personal opinion, take it for what it is worth.

unsteddyPhoenix
Grand Templar
Posts: 2253
Joined: Fri Oct 08, 2010 10:56 am
Location: Marching into the mouth of hell.

Re: [FWC 16] Friend

#3 Post by unsteddyPhoenix »

Jarlath wrote:
As soon as the ultimatum was proposed I knew that was the moment had given up,
Missing a word? moment he had given up?

A powerful story BTW. Unfortunately survivor's guilt exists...
Nicely done in the consistent tone and a full story without dialog.

Just my personal opinion, take it for what it is worth.
Ah, damnit you're right. I swear I proofread. Thanks. :)
Tom wrote:The entire Basitin race is actually just a group of extremist LARPers.
ImageImage

Post Reply