The Hit List

Chapter 20

Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if I didn't have these thoughts in my head.

If I didn't feel this fear constantly rushing through me. This fear of living. Of actually enjoying living.

I didn't fear the enjoyment so much as the fall I always eventually felt. Like how freeing flying seemed, only to realize the pain of hitting the ground made it all not worth it.

It is never simple for someone to grow up. But everyone seems to be adjusting to it more skillfully than I am. The human race is meant to endure, and it appears that I am one of the bad apples. Things that seem insignificant to others tend to overwhelm me. I am not able to change who I am on the inside, to make myself into what I need to survive. I am unable to live the life I was created for. Before the cosmos determines that I'm ready, I would remove myself.

These thoughts all race through my mind as I make my way through the grass, the light of the moon lending me not nearly enough assistance.

I attempt to recall the colors he has in hand, but my brain is long-fried. Showing similarities to those old drug commercials.

This is your brain. This is your brain when it's surviving on three hours of sleep and a lifetime of internalized trauma. Any questions?

I hum quietly to myself, providing a small ounce of external stimulation. My eyes scanned the woods in front of me.

My ancestors were hunters and gatherers, a dark forest wouldn't cause their heart rate to spike as much as mine does. And they had many more creatures that were created just to kill.

Here I was looking for a neon light, contemplating if he left the car unlocked. Could I turn around before he realized?

Would I make it to an overpass? End the night and my life early? Escape this place I didn't want to stay in.

I can't see my breath as I breathe out, but it chills my mouth as I take it in. Causing me to cough as it dries my throat.

My hand wraps around a stick in my pocket, rubbing my thumb up and down repeatedly. The smoothness allowed me a moment of grounding.

I highly doubt I'll find him in the remaining ten minutes. I've walked a path in the grass repeatedly. Each step digs a deeper trench into the dying green. As though staying out of the woods I knew he was hidden within would make the time pass quicker.

I kicked at a patch, watching as pieces of it flew into the air. I could hear a howl in the distance and hoped it wouldn't get any louder.

I yearned for the bed I thought I'd be lying in by now. Even his passenger seat was welcoming compared to this. I could sit in it like I used to do when my mom would run errands. Turning the radio up and putting my feet against the dash.

I still hated grocery stores. Food had become less and less appealing as my appetite changed, and the people there always seemed way too keen on making a home in my space.

Hitch never complained though. He'd knock on my apartment door twice, and place the bags on my counter without many words.

A few days prior, he had accessed my freezer and organized a frozen dish on the highest level. He made a face, questioning aloud if it would match the image on the front once I took it out of my oven.

He rarely asked for input on what he'd pick up. Just scoped the fridge and cupboards before leaving, taking count of everything available to me and what I wasn't touching.

He'd very quickly learned I wasn't much of a cook. Or at least I didn't generally put in the work anymore.

Step by step, I kicked at the grass as I strolled in front of the forest's border. A grunt filled the air as my foot connected with a hard object.