So I have been wanting to write a couple of short stories, but just like everything else I have procrastinated and put it off. So today I decided I would sit down and write one, just to see if I could do it. I don't know where this story came from, I just started writing it and it seemed to flow. So read and take it for what it's worth, but be kind this is really my first attempt. So here we go...
Justice
When he opened his eyes, it was still dark in his bedroom. He rolled over to put his arm over his wife, but only found a cold empty space that used to be hers. Sometimes it took him a moment to remember that she was gone. It had been seven months since the carjacking but the pain and grief were just as fresh as the day she was taken from him. As he lay there letting his eyes become accustomed to the darkened room, his mind replayed the last morning he saw her.
He was still under the covers as she was slipping into her dress pants and blouse scrambling because she was late to work again. He caught her by the wrist as she leaned down to kiss him goodbye and he pulled her onto the bed. He kissed her gently on the eyelids as his hand rubbed her barely visible baby bump. He lowered his head close to her stomach and pretended to have a conversation with his boy, he knew it was a boy, he had no doubts. She indulged him for a half a second before she flew from his arms and gave him one more fleeting kiss, telling him she was late and she would see him later that night.
He fought hard to push that memory from his mind before the tears could come and make him useless for the next few hours. He couldn’t afford that grief today, not today. He pushed himself up and walked to the bathroom, flipping on the light to see the stranger in the mirror. In seven months he had lost 30 pounds, he was thin and gaunt. He had black bags under his eyes that gave him a raccoonish look. He hadn’t shaved or cut his hair, so he had a scraggly salt and pepper beard and matching shoulder length hair. He didn’t recognize the man in the mirror and that made him sad all over again, so he grabbed the half empty bottle of whiskey that was sitting next to the sink and took a long pull from the bottle to dull the pain. He looked at himself again, it wasn’t so bad he told himself, he was still in there, he was just hiding and scared. He started to muster up the little determination he had left and dumped the rest of the whiskey down the drain. He needed to be strong today, not hiding in a bottle. He had to have his wits about him, he needed them today.
With that, he searched through the vanity until he found the sharp pair of scissors. Once he had them, he began hacking away the long tangled knots of his beard and trimmed off a considerable amount of hair off his head as well. He grabbed his clippers to finish the job trying not to remember all the times that she had cut his hair. When he looked in the mirror, he almost recognized the his old self, close cropped hair and a trimmed goatee, but the pain was still ever present in his misty eyes. As he looked at himself, his eyes drifted to the two pictures stuck in the corner of the mirror. The one of her and the one of the sonogram, his son to be born. He kissed his fingers and placed them gently on each picture. After what seemed like hours he let his fingers drop and went to the bedroom to finish dressing. He pulled out his best suit, it was black with thin silver pinstripes. He hadn't worn a suit in months. He lost everything when he lost them, his job to which he wore this very suit quickly evaporated when he quit going, preferring the company of Jack Daniels to the company of his co-workers. Even though he was thinner, the suit still fit him very well. He tightened his tie, and went back to the mirror to inspect himself one final time. He gave himself a quick once over and decided he looked passable. He grabbed the two photos from the mirror and tucked them into the inside pocket of the jacket.
As he was heading for the door, he stopped and hesitated by the table in the entry way. He turned his thoughts over and over in his head trying to find his resolve. Finally he convinced himself of what he needed to do and opened the drawer. There it was looking him in the face in all of its dark beauty, a Smith & Wesson .40 caliber pistol. Before he could change his mind he grabbed the gun, checked to make sure the clip was loaded, threw it in his pocket and headed out the door.
The sun was just rising and the morning air was still cool and crisp. He walked down the driveway and jumped into his car to get started. It was an hour drive into the city and another fifteen minutes to courthouse once he was in the city. He pulled slowly out of the driveway and started down the highway. He turned on the radio, but he must have zoned out while he was driving because the next thing he knew he was turning into the side parking lot of the courthouse. He circled the lot twice trying to find a spot that would give him full view of the street in front of the courthouse. He finally found one as a clerk from a neighboring law office pulled out. It was there he would sit and begin his wait. He would wait for him.
Today was the day that the carjacker would be sentenced, if you could call it that. The carjacker had admitted what he had done to the police. He told them that he walked up on her at a stoplight, he pulled his gun and told her to get out of the car. She froze with fear and didn't move fast enough, so he shot her and dumped her body in the intersection. He stepped over her like someone would step over a piece of trash in the street and he drove away in the car.
In that one act the carjacker had taken his wife and son and turned his world upside down. From there things only got worse, the District Attorney got the carjacker's confession tossed out because the confession was done without a lawyer present and he looked beat up in the videotape. The DA had pushed that the confession was coerced by police brutality and the judge had ruled in his favor so the whole confession was thrown out. Based on the evidence the jury only convicted the carjacker of Grand Theft Auto with a possible maximum sentence of five to seven years. Five to seven years for the lives of his wife and unborn son. That was not justice, this man deserved to be put to death. To never feel the sun on his face, to never feel air fill his longs, to never hear or touch his loved ones again. That was where he came in.
Just then the white jail van pulled up and roused him from his thoughts. He watched the van warily, and then the doors were opened and there he was. The carjacker was in a suit, but still handcuffed and was only guarded by one sheriff. This was his one chance, his only chance. He slid from the car and started walking towards the two of them in front of the van. He was fifteen feet away as the sheriff started walking with his inmate towards the steps of the courthouse. He picked up his pace and closed the gap between him and them. Before the sheriff could realize what was about to happen, he stepped in front of them and pulled his gun. Everything slowed down in that moment, he saw the carjacker's eyes grow wide with fear, he could feel how cool and how right the steel felt in his hand as he pressed the gun into the other man's chest, he could smell the stink of sweat and fear coming from him as he whispered in his ear "This is justice for my wife and son." Then he saw the flash, heard the pop, and saw the man wheel away with a growing red stain on his suit.
He dropped to his knees and pulled out the picture of his wife and his unborn son and wept.
Justice
When he opened his eyes, it was still dark in his bedroom. He rolled over to put his arm over his wife, but only found a cold empty space that used to be hers. Sometimes it took him a moment to remember that she was gone. It had been seven months since the carjacking but the pain and grief were just as fresh as the day she was taken from him. As he lay there letting his eyes become accustomed to the darkened room, his mind replayed the last morning he saw her.
He was still under the covers as she was slipping into her dress pants and blouse scrambling because she was late to work again. He caught her by the wrist as she leaned down to kiss him goodbye and he pulled her onto the bed. He kissed her gently on the eyelids as his hand rubbed her barely visible baby bump. He lowered his head close to her stomach and pretended to have a conversation with his boy, he knew it was a boy, he had no doubts. She indulged him for a half a second before she flew from his arms and gave him one more fleeting kiss, telling him she was late and she would see him later that night.
He fought hard to push that memory from his mind before the tears could come and make him useless for the next few hours. He couldn’t afford that grief today, not today. He pushed himself up and walked to the bathroom, flipping on the light to see the stranger in the mirror. In seven months he had lost 30 pounds, he was thin and gaunt. He had black bags under his eyes that gave him a raccoonish look. He hadn’t shaved or cut his hair, so he had a scraggly salt and pepper beard and matching shoulder length hair. He didn’t recognize the man in the mirror and that made him sad all over again, so he grabbed the half empty bottle of whiskey that was sitting next to the sink and took a long pull from the bottle to dull the pain. He looked at himself again, it wasn’t so bad he told himself, he was still in there, he was just hiding and scared. He started to muster up the little determination he had left and dumped the rest of the whiskey down the drain. He needed to be strong today, not hiding in a bottle. He had to have his wits about him, he needed them today.
With that, he searched through the vanity until he found the sharp pair of scissors. Once he had them, he began hacking away the long tangled knots of his beard and trimmed off a considerable amount of hair off his head as well. He grabbed his clippers to finish the job trying not to remember all the times that she had cut his hair. When he looked in the mirror, he almost recognized the his old self, close cropped hair and a trimmed goatee, but the pain was still ever present in his misty eyes. As he looked at himself, his eyes drifted to the two pictures stuck in the corner of the mirror. The one of her and the one of the sonogram, his son to be born. He kissed his fingers and placed them gently on each picture. After what seemed like hours he let his fingers drop and went to the bedroom to finish dressing. He pulled out his best suit, it was black with thin silver pinstripes. He hadn't worn a suit in months. He lost everything when he lost them, his job to which he wore this very suit quickly evaporated when he quit going, preferring the company of Jack Daniels to the company of his co-workers. Even though he was thinner, the suit still fit him very well. He tightened his tie, and went back to the mirror to inspect himself one final time. He gave himself a quick once over and decided he looked passable. He grabbed the two photos from the mirror and tucked them into the inside pocket of the jacket.
As he was heading for the door, he stopped and hesitated by the table in the entry way. He turned his thoughts over and over in his head trying to find his resolve. Finally he convinced himself of what he needed to do and opened the drawer. There it was looking him in the face in all of its dark beauty, a Smith & Wesson .40 caliber pistol. Before he could change his mind he grabbed the gun, checked to make sure the clip was loaded, threw it in his pocket and headed out the door.
The sun was just rising and the morning air was still cool and crisp. He walked down the driveway and jumped into his car to get started. It was an hour drive into the city and another fifteen minutes to courthouse once he was in the city. He pulled slowly out of the driveway and started down the highway. He turned on the radio, but he must have zoned out while he was driving because the next thing he knew he was turning into the side parking lot of the courthouse. He circled the lot twice trying to find a spot that would give him full view of the street in front of the courthouse. He finally found one as a clerk from a neighboring law office pulled out. It was there he would sit and begin his wait. He would wait for him.
Today was the day that the carjacker would be sentenced, if you could call it that. The carjacker had admitted what he had done to the police. He told them that he walked up on her at a stoplight, he pulled his gun and told her to get out of the car. She froze with fear and didn't move fast enough, so he shot her and dumped her body in the intersection. He stepped over her like someone would step over a piece of trash in the street and he drove away in the car.
In that one act the carjacker had taken his wife and son and turned his world upside down. From there things only got worse, the District Attorney got the carjacker's confession tossed out because the confession was done without a lawyer present and he looked beat up in the videotape. The DA had pushed that the confession was coerced by police brutality and the judge had ruled in his favor so the whole confession was thrown out. Based on the evidence the jury only convicted the carjacker of Grand Theft Auto with a possible maximum sentence of five to seven years. Five to seven years for the lives of his wife and unborn son. That was not justice, this man deserved to be put to death. To never feel the sun on his face, to never feel air fill his longs, to never hear or touch his loved ones again. That was where he came in.
Just then the white jail van pulled up and roused him from his thoughts. He watched the van warily, and then the doors were opened and there he was. The carjacker was in a suit, but still handcuffed and was only guarded by one sheriff. This was his one chance, his only chance. He slid from the car and started walking towards the two of them in front of the van. He was fifteen feet away as the sheriff started walking with his inmate towards the steps of the courthouse. He picked up his pace and closed the gap between him and them. Before the sheriff could realize what was about to happen, he stepped in front of them and pulled his gun. Everything slowed down in that moment, he saw the carjacker's eyes grow wide with fear, he could feel how cool and how right the steel felt in his hand as he pressed the gun into the other man's chest, he could smell the stink of sweat and fear coming from him as he whispered in his ear "This is justice for my wife and son." Then he saw the flash, heard the pop, and saw the man wheel away with a growing red stain on his suit.
He dropped to his knees and pulled out the picture of his wife and his unborn son and wept.
