MORPHEUS

The Lockout

I’d rather choose us fighting all the time than agreeing at one thing that would tear us apart forever. I keep chasing at your back but you’re always ten steps ahead. Even now I can’t keep up at your pace. It still feels as though you have calculated everything and just waiting for things to fall into place. Pulling the strings in the shadow, suits you best even before.

I never thought that the moment I wake up again I would see you in a different state. You were lying next to me with a bullet hole burning on your skull. A few blood splatters around it too. By the time I gained consciousness it has already hardened and some parts had already turned reddish black. Your eyes are wide open but life already drained out them. Then at the background I also heard wailing ambulance and police sirens.

Operatives barged in the abandoned ice plant one by one. Their footsteps whirred inside my head. Like a broken record your smiling face turns into a dead corpse that you are now. I still can't believe that this is happening. I haven't even asked you yet why you did what you did. As they removed your dead body on top of me I wanted to stop them but I can barely move myself.

Your figure fades into the light as they store you in one of those yellow cadaver bags. The ones we often watch at crime series. Though even in my wildest dreams I never imagined you to be one of them----serial killers and the latter a dead body they take into their labs to scrutinize and shed light to the crimes you have committed.

Whatever little clue that ties you to the previous victim and me as your recent target. If your mom knows about this which will likely be the case, she would lose her sanity. Thinking how her only son who can't even hurt a fly can make it to a point of murdering people just for the heck of it. I was taken away from my bitter reverie when one medic placed the bag he was carrying beside the block of ice I am lying in. Though I can barely make of his name plate because the drug you injected me is still at work.

He gently pinched each of eyes open and pointed a pin light on them. He also press my jaw to open my mouth and did the same. Next thing he checks was my arm. He pulled back all the sleeves to inspect it and saw a syringe mark on one of them. Then he gets his silver metal clip board and pulled out a black pen from his scrub suit and write on about his findings about me.

Next thing I knew is he called out two more medics carrying a stretcher and transfer me there. There was ruckus all over me but I couldn't care less. Even after what you have put me through tonight, I still prayed that this was just a nightmare and I'll wake up soon enough to see you smiling and tell me that all of this is just a prank. Showing off that high and mighty aura you always had since we were kids

But I can't shake off the fact that I'm only fooling myself to believe that lie. By now I suppose you're the one placed on a dissecting table and getting punctured and examined by a local embalmer who is set do the mundane task in order to make it to the cut until the next paycheck. Just another body to open and close then placed in a casket or urn. Remembered for the few good things you have done and forever loathed for the mistakes they magnify at your cost. Timothy the geek will be overwritten by Timothey the serial killer.

People who knows you personally will even deny the slightest involvement they had with you. Your parents will suffer the backlash of your own actions. If they get lucky like you did, they might actually take their own lives as a form of public apology.

Things happened slow and fast at the same time. Before I knew it I was lying in a hospital bed sedated to get a good night's reat from my so called nightmare experience. The police managed to fend off local reporters and on lookers only to keep me to themselves. You know what they are. if it is about recognition they have to have that first than anybody else in town.

But before I even manage to sleep, they already sqeezed me dry.

"You were best friends for so long didn't you doubt about his intentions to you or any exhibit of inappropriate behavior?" A lanky police officer asks me as his big har slips in front of his face covering his view.

I didn't look him in the eye instead I fiddle with my hands and averted my gaze on the open window as the white curtain dances with the wind. "He's always been aloof but I thought it was normal at the time since he's been like that since we were kids."

I'm not giving them anything valueble unless I get to the bottom of your death. Even if I had to lie my way through it, I would.

"Did you meet any of his girlfriends perhaps?" He asks another mundane question.

Though I still remain distant keeping the act. "He didn't have one. It was always work and home those were his daily routine," I sighed.

"How about wounds or fresh bruises from a fight?"

I shook my head because I didn't really see any of those in you. "He didn't have any though he started having tattoes earlier this year."

"Is he on a mob?" He even snickers confident with his question.

I clicked my tongue, "aren't you holding it against people who loves tattoes? In fact the ink on one's skin does not determine their worth in the society."

He shakes his head and writes it down again on his clip board then mouths, "subversive mentality."

"I'm tired I need to rest." Then I tossed on my left not facing him again. After while I heard the chair he was seating on scratched confirming he granted my request then I tossed back when I assured he's really gone.

It was like that for the whole month. Then when I was about to he discharged on the following week, the media was already waiting at the hospital entrance to swarm at me. Asking their intrusive questions which I have no time to spare. So I decided to take the back door and have mom picked me up and be able to go home in peace.

The next quarter of the year went buy in a blur. I am barely making any new friends anymore not that I wanted to have one. I still miss our nonsensical talks and movie marathons. Still being on denial stage I wasn't wven able to visit your grave which is I'm sorry for.