Mascot "Kumi" © 2005 Chastain & Fan Works Inc. All Rights Reserved. Mascot "Kumi" © 2005 Chastain & Fan Works Inc. All Rights Reserved.
 
Memorial - In Loving Memory of Chester Gregorich, 1981-2005
Home | Directory | Help & Tools | Just In! | [Search]
[Log In | Join]
Musicians/Music Groups Fan Fiction >> Mest

The following is a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

Please see the Terms of Service for more information.

 

[View Printer Friendly Version]

No Doubt in My Mind (25 to Life)
By Constance

 

I saw you fall apart right before my own eyes. You didn't know, but that's why I spared my time to be there every night---to see you. I knew you better than you knew yourself, inside and out. You'd claim to be a bother and leave after spilling your heat out, confessing everything on your mind. You were always on my mind. It was far beyond my knowledge how anyone could treat an individual with suck cruelty and ruthlessness; how anybody could treat <I>you</I> as a piece of property. Everyone has their flaws, I know it. More than just you suffered. All the time you talked to me, I was listening. How he'd treat your son just as bad...I could have killed him by hand without the least bit of sympathy. But no, then I'd be in high water. You'd said that you still loved him though. In my mind, an obvious lie. For twenty-five years of age, you sure have experienced a lot of shit. I guess that you'd grown to trust me or something---I'd earned your loyalty. Oh, how that meant so much to me. The first night I got your phone number, I was actually afraid to call. Half of the time, our conversations would be cut short. Either that or I'd end up talking to the nerve-racking dial tone. I know it wasn't you; it was him. He had control over everything you did. I knew what I had to do. At first, my stomach was in knots. My knees shook with uncertainty and I thought for sure that I'd puke my pounding heart out. Overtime, I grew more confident; it was the only way. I'd learned so much just from those nights. I knew where you live, about your abusive husband, your past, your desires and wants---like I said, no one knew you better than me. That night I didn't call. My mind was made up and nothing was going to stand in my way. Without notice or as much as a knock, I pushed the door open. Your face was mingled with expressions. I couldn't tell whether you were more surprised or blissful to see me. It was as if you'd been expecting me. Your voice, as soft as clouds appear, broke the silence. "Matt, what are you doing?" I didn't answer deliberately, longing to hear you repeat my name. Despite my harsh look, you broke out in a smile. You're the only person I know that could manage this. You seemed so calm just to be in my presence. Your expression didn't change a bit when I pulled out my gun, aiming it straight at you. Gazing through the eyehole, I pulled the trigger, the bullet colliding with one of the few windows in the house. "Grab your things and get your son." As a servant would, you jumped out of the seat and swiftly walked to the backroom. Your face only eased more at the sound of the gun shot. I know, legally this was wrong. Breaking and entering, forcing you and your offspring out of your home...It was all good by me though. I geared the car out towards the western states, heading nowhere in particular. It didn't matter where we went, just as long as we were alone. You told me that your life was miserable. I was determined to make the pain go away; make everything alright. Like a gentleman, I opened your car door. The gun dangling at my side was none of your concern. I had a feeling you would have gone willingly either way. In the house we were, a house I had convinced you was my own. A white lie never hurt anybody. Hand in hand, I led you and your son to one of the rooms. Right there, I proposed. I really needed to know what you thought of me. With no consideration of you husband you'd left behind to be with me, you gave a grin and said yes. There and then we shared a kiss, the most memorable moment of my life. I was going to help you. I think you knew what was coming. You know me well enough to know what was going through my head. I took your son into another room. He was just as good as my own now. Walking back into the room, I stood an arm's length away from you. Your features were softened, all of your trust laying in my hand's now. Finally, I could do the one thing that would make you happy. I raised my arm, positioned towards your chest. Your blood shot eyes seemed to have a certain glint of hope. They never left my own eyes. With little effort, the barrel that had been held over your heart let out a racing pellet. All in an instant, you dropped to your knees at my feet, eventually your hands hitting the wooden floor as well. Not being able to withhold your body's weight, you collapsed with a small thud. I watched until your pulse had come to completely cease. I strode to the opposite room, the one in which I had assigned to your---<I>our</I>---son. His gaze traced up from my shoes to my eyes. Only a toddler, he was oblivious to everything going on. The kid's face was bruised, as well as his limbs. His father was such a fucking jackass. With one shot, he was back on the floor simultaneously when I heard a door creak. I knew it had to be the actual owners of the house I had randomly chosen. In a mere six seconds, I was out of the window, racing across the field. It what I had done was right, then why did I run? *** The corners of my lips bent into a smile as the memory replayed in my mind. I loved you, and took care of you. I moved into a more comfortable position on the bunk that was provided to me. It was mine for another couple minutes. Even if the government thinks my deed was wrong, I will always stand by it. Stand by it for you. Before I had the chance to reposition myself in the orange jumpsuit, an officer showed up on the other side of the bars. I was cuffed, and led down the corridor of cells. I was then strapped into the chair tidily, and then dampened with a sponge. A blindfold was placed over my eyes, shielding my view of the machinery and cords that surrounded me. There's a reason why certain people meet. My purpose was to help you. With my life fulfilled, I can rightfully say that I lived it right. I was supporting my family, and now I must, too, go. The officer's words were stone-cold, counting away my time left on this earth. "5, 4, 3, 2, 1..."

 

The preceeding was a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

Please see the Terms of Service for more information.

[Return to Top]

TOS  |  Privacy Policy  |  Questions/Comments?  |  Found a bug?  |  Report violations of the TOS
Powered by E-FanWorks v3.9.9b © Null Referrence Software 2003-2006