Handful of Nothing

      Mr. Norm was anything but the norm. 

      It was a starless night. The sky was a pitch black, the city lights forcing the sky to be this way, for the way they shone, shadowing out the pretty stars in the sky. City lights that signaled a busy little place down below, filled with mischief at even late hours. At this time, a man named Julian Norm, was making his way to the club on this night. Hopefully to earn some winnings to satisfy his hunger to collect. He was addicted. It wasn’t an intoxicant. It wasn’t love. It was gambling.  Mr. Norm was a disturbing young man, he was too young to be doing this, and now he’d pay.

      Another guy was at the club too, his name was Bart. Bart Abel, a cunning young man himself, and smart too. In a game of poker, Bart and Mr. Norm were neck and neck in their game, trying to win everyone’s hard earned money. Most of it was Mr. Norm’s money, so if Bart won, he’d get all his money plus everyone else’s, which would result in at least a couple hundred thousands of dollars. 

      “Feeling up to it, tonight, Julian?” Bart said to Mr. Norm, who raised an eyebrow at him, smirking as he acted prideful in every way.

      “You be quiet Bart- I’ll sweep the floor with you when I’m done with this place.” the man named Julian replied. People behind him were laughing at Bart, knowing that he had just gotten talked to in such a way that caused their giggles. Bart was fuming, looking at Julian with angry eyes.

      “You’re on.” They then took their spots at a card table, playing out cards in a game of poker. Julian seemed as if he were to win. In the last round though, Julian was a bit overconfident in his actions, playing a card, though Bart smirked, as he played one too. He ended up winning, able to take all the money. Screams of cheer and laughter were heard, and Bart was the happiest man alive that night. Julian was furious. He cursed everyone out, angry, his face red as he flipped the tables like a maniac. Everyone was frightened of him.

      Everything from that night resulted in Julian’s banishment from the club. He wasn’t ever allowed to go there again, no more gambling for him, for it seemed to make him go crazy. Julian wasn’t crazy, he just got mad because he didn’t win. And he lost his money.

      Julian now went home, alone in his apartment as the last fumes of his rage faded away, resulting now in sadness and regret. Julian cried into a pillow that night, sad that he was now broke, and his life savings were now down the toilet. Julian had to figure out a way to get his money back fast, but he wasn’t sure how he’d do it.

      “Maybe I could just work really hard for the next few years, not buying any new clothes, rarely taking showers- and maybe that’d make up for my loss,” Julian mused, talking to himself. He was curled up in a ball, thinking of how he’d pay off next month’s rent. 

      Then, a dark thought crossed Julian’s sick mind. What if, what if he were to kill Bart? It was brilliant! He’d do it very carefully, sure that no one would find out about his wrongdoings, and he’d get his money back, it was perfect! Julian began to pull off his master plan right away. He wrote down his plans on papers, getting a black vinyl body suit, blades and a gun, keeping it in a utility belt that’d be connected to his vinyl suit. 

      He smiled wickedly as he looked at his plans, Julian, the brilliant mastermind who happened to have all these ideas in his mind. He knew that he’d have to carry out his plan tonight... For he couldn’t wait too long, he was too anxious, and rent was due soon! Yes, Julian had to do it tonight.

      His sister, Grace, lived with him, and was now sleeping, so Julian was able to carry out his work that night. He tip-toed out of the apartment, getting in his car as he then drove to where Bart lived. A large mansion, it’d be amazing if Julian would be able to find him in the maze. He got out of his car, now making his way to the door, opening it, it wasn’t locked, for Bart was celebrating too hard that night, getting drunk and now endangering himself with poor security, and went inside, barrel-rolling as he hid behind a statue, looking around. 

      He decided that the rooms across the hall were probably bedrooms, for they were secluded from the rest of the house. He smirked as he then tiptoed near them, going up to each door with his ear, trying listen for any movements inside. He was sure Bart was alone, when he finally made his way up to the room furthest down the hall, listening as crisp movements were inside.

      Julian opened the door slowly, blade in hand as he carefully made his way to a sleeping Bart, carefully, ever so carefully making his way up to the bed, eyes fixated upon Bart, blade so close to his neck. Julian did his work rather quickly, slitting his throat and stabbing his heart, enough to kill Bart then and there, and take his money which happened to be in an open safe on his bedside table.

      Julian was so happy, he leaped for joy when he exited the mansion, rushing to his car, looking back to make sure he covered his tracks, and headed home. 

      As soon as Julian was home, Grace immediately made her way up to her brother, wide eyes as she saw the stack of cash in his hands.

      “Where did you get that?” she asked, though Julian didn’t reply, knowing that his sister was to inquisitive, and would have to be vanquished as well if he were to keep his secret. He knew he’d have so much regret if he lied to her, he couldn’t tell her the truth that he killed a man, or she’d call the cops on him. He took the blade, and ended her as well. His poor sister, laying on the ground, lifeless, as an emotionless Julian walked away slowly, slowly, so he could put up the money.

      Julian was on his bed now, smiling as he counted the money, he was safe for now. Though he looked around his home, empty, a corpse in the living room. Dark, depressing and lonely. Julian was so alone now. He killed his sister in order to keep his secret, and he killed a man just to get his money back. Was he psychotic?

      Julian looked away towards a mirror, a mirror in which he saw his reflection, a disturbed young man with a mad face, a handful of worthless paper in his hands. It was a handful of nothing, if Julian was now to be all alone. He looked away, now to the blades in his utility belt, and then the gun, he picked it up and looked at it, longingly.

      The man then dialed 911 on his phone, so that at least he wouldn’t be regretful in the afterlife, and pulled the trigger, dying on the spot, money falling all over him, as a sly grin was plastered on his face at the moment of death. The shooting was loud, so the neighbors probably heard as well.

      The paramedics soon came, along with the police, Julian, still clutching a handful of nothing, yet a smile still on his face.