Sun kept walking under the dark clouds. Droplets of rain finally started to fall, regardless he did not flinch.
Instead, Sun removed the bloodied button-up shirt and threw it into a trashcan on the sidewalk. A thin cotton undershirt covered his upper body now.
Dark blobs appeared on the cotton as it absorbed the tears of the sky.
-It has been a few days since. I got bored with the tasteless repetition life brought me. I don't hate anyone or anything, but it was frustrating not being able to be excited or sad for anyone.
I constantly put my self in "danger" so I could feel alive. It wasn't enough. I was mugged near the school I worked at. go figure that it was also one of my students.
He tried to mug me with an unloaded gun.
A teen, tall for his age, held a black Beretta at his teacher. They were both only a building away from where they had interacted just a few hours ago.
Misguided cultural guidance and neglect left many of the children in the school with blurred morals. The kid was no exception.
He was jealous that the girl he liked had romantic desires towards their teacher. the teacher who was now before him.
With adrenalin and rage overcoming the youth he went through with spontaneous and unplanned actions. "I'll sho ya yo f*ck.
You ain't sh*t!" The teen said as he pulled a gun that was strapped under his long shirt. The teacher, Sun turned around and stared not at the gun, but the kid's eyes.
"Get yo pretty boi *ss on that wall!" The kid flicked his gun pointing at the building to his left. Sun understood and slightly shifted his back onto the wall.
He rested on it lifting one foot up leaving his body weight to rest on the other. A calm serious expression his face slowly turned into a smirk. Sun's heart began beating faster.
His eyes dilated and began to study the situation in front of him. His chest pounded and his arms slowly began to shake.
-Fear? No. This is Excitement.
"You think this funny? Huh?"
"Shoot!" Sun said in a clear soft voice.
the teen had a baffled expression as the remark his teacher made in front of him.
"I will f*cker. If ya don do what I say!"
Sweat dripped down the brows of the kid. He was confused at the shock at what he was doing and how his teacher responded. Regardless his pride wouldn't let him stop and apologize now.
He didn't think farther than pulling an unloaded gun at his teacher.
Was he going to beat him, or was he happy showing dominance over him? Neither matter, since Sun wasn't giving him the reaction he was going for.
Sun got closer to the gun, placing his face right up the barrel and told him again, "Shoot!"
The kid stumbled on his words, not understanding how to react."
Sun grabbed the gun and pulled it away from him. The youth's finger was caressing the trigger, but the yank from the force did not release anything from the chamber of the gun.
-It's not loaded. How funny.
As Sun pulled on the gun he pushed the teen with the other arm. He stumbled backward on his sagging pants unto the concrete sidewalk. Confused he lifted his pants and scurried backward.
Sun stood motionless staring at him with a small and a wrinkled forehead. His eyes piercing like daggers. The kid ran off. Sun stared at the piece of metal called a weapon in his hands.
It was the first time he held it.
It was the first time he held it. He liked it.
Later that evening with the events still fresh in his mind Sun began to watch television with his dinner.
Coincidentally a serial killer was being interviewed in court, broadcasted by a regular news channel. Sun watched in curiosity his finger ready to switch to a more interesting network.
the serial killer's name was Michael. Sun smiled.
-Let's try it.
Blood sprayed the asphalt.
Blood sprayed the asphalt. A loud bang no one heard.
Blood sprayed the asphalt. A loud bang no one heard. A body, that would take time to be found, much more to be recovered.
-Simple. I love this feeling.
Sun purchased bullets from vending machines at gun ranges. He practiced his aim every day. He drove on the long interstate roads. People walking on these roads fed his newfound pleasure.
He loved it.
The recoil of the gun, the sound of the bullet entering the skull.
The art that was left behind for others to see.
He wanted to experiment. He wanted more. He wanted to feel flesh-ripping with his own hands.
A man. A girl.
A man. A girl. He looks like a pervert.
"Watch out miss the pervert has a knife!"