Play With Me

Wild Card

   It has been two months since I have been in contact with Enoch. He has not tried to find me, and nor I with him. I have been enjoying myself, and I'm hoping he hasn't been enjoying himself.

   I have lost all of my traveling abilities, so I have been subjected to using human transportation like trains and cars and buses. But luckily I have not lost all of my knowledge of everyone's deaths. I still smile at each kindling thought about all these peoples' deaths.

   Currently, I am leaving Pennsylvania, on my way to New York to initiate my next move. And I am having fun with all of this.

   I've gotten myself a small pistol, thanks to a man that I killed a couple weeks ago in Detroit. His name was Rufus Collins, twenty-nine years old. He was supposed to die of having the plug pulled on him after falling into an unexplained comatose state for seven months. He fell asleep and never woke up, and no one would know why. I saw me killing him quickly by smashing his skull in better than dying in a coma.

   But in my defense, he pulled that gun out on me and tried to rob me. So I had my reasons, not just in cold blood.

   I can't use that excuse for everyone I have killed in these past two months. It's been about forty... fifty... maybe sixty...?

   I have honestly lost count. Some were cold blood, some were for a reason. But I do not feel bad about killing these people either way, honestly. Not anymore.

   That's now because I have witnessed how careless and rude and evil these humans really are. They kill each other, discriminate each other, enervate each other, and they are such... such hypocrites. No wonder so many of these humans have died such inhumane and sick deaths instead of calm and settled ones.

   They cause so much war within themselves. Turmoil is everywhere within these humans. I have not been in any place in this world that hasn't been going through civil disputes of inequality or something else that could be solved with a  simple talk and compromise.

   But no, humans just love violence.

   They crave it.

   They rely on it.

   They need it.

   It seems like without violence, humans would have no purpose. Just like if these humans were immortal, I would have no purpose. And everyone (or everything, in my case) needs a purpose to go on. Maybe that's why they've lived for so long, but have been dying off so shortly after being brought into this world they have.

   Their purpose is also their pestilence.

   "Hey, wake up."

   "Wha...?" I open my eyes and look up. There is a man in a dark blue and white uniform standing in front of me. It's the bus driver.

   "I'm going to need you to step off of the bus please," he says. I search the areaof the bus, and I notice that all of the other passengers have been moved to the back of the bus, entirely opposite of me. My eyes travel to look to the outside of the bus. Red and blue lights are flashing out there.

   "And why is that?" I ask in a sarcastic voice, sitting up and crossing my arms, a smile on my face. The driver leans back and peeks outside to the lights that are flashing.

   "Some people would like to have a word with you."

   "What people?" I ask rhetorically noticing the multiple police cars pulling up outside of the bus. I pull off the hood of my jacket and the driver jumps back and gasps in disgust.