Focal Enemy | ✔

Privation (the loss of something or someone who is normally present)

Theodore could not blink. They were coming for him. Her knew it.
"Who did it, Theo?" asked Josephine. "Who killed him?"

"Joe Garth," whispered Theodore, "and now he's coming for me, or maybe even you."

He could literally see the colour drain from Josephine's face, but her eyes only burned brighter, like a forest blaze through the night.

"What did you do? Who did you kill?"

"His wife. Years ago."

"You-you killed his wife?"

Josephine's accusing eyes were something he could not look at. She deserved better. He had told her. She didn't deserve to die.

The fork in her hand was slammed onto the table.

"Why?" she pleaded. "Please tell me that you had a good, an actual reason!"

"I didn't know she was his wife."

"And, that makes it better, does it?" screeched Josephine.

"No!" shouted Theodore. "I killed her by accident. She saw me kill someone - one of Lucas' enemies - when I was working for Lucas. If anyone would have seen me in cooperation with Lucas, then I would have been killed on the spot. If I had known she was Joe's wife, then I wouldn't have shot her."

For Josephine, that didn't seem to be a good enough answer.

"We've got to leave here," said Theodore. "We have to. I can't let him hurt you. You deserve a better fate than that."

Josephine stood up, not meeting his eyes.

"I can't even look at you."

Theodore watched her march away. Even if it was not the first time that she'd said that to him, it hurt all the same. Josephine couldn't leave him. Not now. She was tied to him just like his past.

#

A bang sounded.

Theodore stood there, staring at the reflection of himself in yet another dead man's eyes. In his heart, he felt disgusted. He felt disgusted at himself more than anyone else. He should have said no in the beginning.

The sick thing was that he enjoyed it. He loved to see himself in control - to see his anger come to life and beat a man that was by far guiltier than he looked. It was natural. He had done it for two years now. Once the adrenaline kicked in, it felt good. Way too good. Drugs could not possibly compare.

Outside of the club, Joe and Lenny were waiting, both of them smoking cigars in the moonlight. They were silent, and as Theodore approached, they asked no questions. They never did anymore. They knew it was done. They knew it was done properly.

Theodore lit a fag.

"Where to next?" he asked, taking a long puff. He needed it.

"We're done for the night," said Joe. "Back to mine, Lenny?"

"Sounds good," replied Lenny. "You coming, Theodore?"

For a second, Theodore considered it, but he didn't feel like drinking and he'd only be intruding. He shook his head.

"I've got things to do," he replied. "I'll be home later, Joe."

Joe nodded, but Theodore didn't stick around long enough to see them go. He didn't know where he was going, but east seemed like a good idea all of a sudden. Maybe it was because he was familiar with these streets. He had slept on them. But, then again, hadn't he slept on them all? But that was years ago now. That was before Joe had rescued him from death and ruin.