Why Me? is a 2-part story. I got the idea for the story while watching the local news. The news story was both shocking and unbelievable. You almost wanted it to be made up. Of course, I added my own twist to the story. I wish I could tell you more. But I would give away too much. With that, enjoy Part 1.
PART – 1
Kyle sat in the leather chair. His eyes were closed. A half-smile was on his face. Blue Velvet by Bobby Viton played in the background. Sirens outside were in the distance. They were not as faint as two minutes ago. The six or seven or more were getting closer. They seemed to collide into one.
Kyle watched the front door. His hands were on the armrests. His back was straight. Feet flat on the floor. He was like a statue, still.
Five cans of Lysol spray were on the small table next to him. He cut his eyes to the right and left. He wondered how his world got to this point. Three days ago he was happy. It was the first time in five years he felt this way. That was when his mom died. He never thought he would smile again. Never.
He remembered when his life changed from everyday drudgery and pain to purpose. It was that day that he realized his life was different. And it was going to be different from now on. It just clicked.
One evening he came home for his daily lunch. He went into the refrigerator. The turkey and swiss cheese sandwich and tall glass of orange juice were waiting for him. It was always waiting for him. Every night before going to bed he made it and poured the glass of orange juice. It was his favorite lunch. Rarely did he have anything other than that.
The lunch did not taste extraordinary. It was bland. But it was easy and fast to make. He gobbled it down in ten minutes. That left him thirty minutes to pursue his hobby. Over the last ten months it was no longer a hobby. It had elevated to part of his life. Now it appeared that it was about to alter his life again.
Kyle pushed his six feet, four-inch frame up and out of the chair. His two hundred-and sixty-five-pound body felt heavy. He was not sure if it was his weight that made him feel that way or his heart. It ached. He could hardly breathe. It hurt so much.
He found life cruel and unfair. It was as if a bitter cold had blown in and ended summer.
He picked up a can of Lysol in each hand. They were tall cans. One was lemon-scented. The other was a summer breeze. He shook them hard. Then he pointed them in the air and sprayed the air. He kept the nozzles pressed down as he walked through the house.
He generously sprayed the family room. The kitchen got a quick spray. The hallways and walls were doused with spray. The first bedroom of the ranch house was sprayed for ten seconds. The next two bedrooms received the same. After each bedroom, he looked around the room before shutting the door.
He dropped the empty cans in the hallway and went back to his chair.
He flopped down in the chair. His shoulders slouched. His body sunk into despair and down into the chair. The sirens were closer. They were warning him. His life. His wonderfully designed life was coming to an end. Ruined in one quick moment.
He wiped tears from his eyes. His thick fingers rubbed Lysol residue into his eyes. It did not matter. Here he was, a forty-year-old man acting like a baby. He was embarrassed.
And if the mood could not get any more desperate and lonelier, The Bee Gees were in the background singing How Can You Mend A Broken Heart.
“You can’t,” he whispered. His lower lip trembled. “No one can.” His shoulders shook as his head hung down. Tears poured down his cheeks.
He had one thought in this crisis. He wished for a Genie. Just one wish. That was all he needed. Just one. He swallowed.
He should have Killed Lucy. He should have killed her immediately.
I hope you got a good feel of who Kyle is. If you like this story, pass it on. And sign up to follow me. I’ll keep you posted on new writings.
I will see you next time.