The humid mid-summer heat had already lined my clothes full of sweat as my car sped along the empty highway. The only reason for the lack of traffic in this bustling city was the heavy downpour, which would be steaming me alive if it weren't for the air conditioner blasting at max power. As much as I don't want to be speeding through this weather, I have more pressing issues. The only thing I want is to get this over with.
Why? To be honest, I want to forget why I'm out here, but my burden of proof is etched deep into my head. And, no amount of alcohol could drown out my memories, which flood back faster than the rain pelleting my jet-black sedan. My drive to live.
The tragic death of my family almost six years ago. They wanted me to go camping with them right before the incident. Being somewhat rebellious from my parents, I declined to join them on a camping trip and chose to stay at a friend's house. Little did I know, that would be the last time I'd get a chance to speak to them.
As I pull up to the cemetery where they rest, I still remember the report like the back of my hand. It was a head-on collision on the freeway, which framed news headlines for days. A drunken trucker had gotten onto the wrong side and had fallen asleep behind the wheel before colliding with twenty other cars in rush hour. Unlucky for my family, they were the first to be hit and suffered near-instant death.
I say 'near' because only my little brother was the only one who managed to be dragged to the hospital in a coma. He later succumbed to his injuries when the plug had to be pulled. It came down to the fact that neither of my parents had any money to begin with. I had no choice but to get blood on my hand, with no relatives able to bring in cash for life support.
I don't blame anyone other than myself for the accident. I couldn't blame anyone else. The bastard who killed them ended up committing suicide while waiting for his sentence in jail. I don't even blame my relatives because of how distant our relations had always been.
If I had a choice to go back, I would have suggested something along the lines of, "Why don't we go somewhere in town?". Or, at the very least, join them on that one last car ride. But I can't build my life on ifs and forget-me-nots. I wouldn't know the best place to start back from and how far that would change me.
The habits I picked up along the way show precisely what happened after the incident. I didn't have to look far either to see the silvery glint of a flask peeking its head from my jacket's pocket on the passenger seat. I knew I couldn't come with a clear conscience that reared more memories of bad choices from the following years.
My jacket must have caught in the glovecompartment handle because all my work equipment surged out when I grabbed it. Just a messy pile of pens, 9mm magazines, a flashlight, and a handgun on the floor now. A small reminder that I took the day off to come here. Just looking at it felt almost suffocating, especially when I saw my I.D top the pile.
As I twirl the card between my fingers, my gaze hangs on the company logo emblazoned by a hound in the background: Cerebrus's Defense. A minuscule private security firm built around five members, which I've been a part of for the past two years. I didn't even hear about this company until one of my old friends told me about it. Then again, I didn't hear or see much of anything when I was slumped in a depression.
Under the decorations, my weathered name stood the test of time: Grey Kita. Beside my name is a faded picture of me, although most of my face could be made out past the scratches. A constant downturned frown marked the Asian man with short raven hair, which I've gotten used to seeing in the mirror. Looking deeper, the accents of my black-on-black uniform skimmed the edges, as well as my lithe shoulders.
I let out a deep-seated sigh as I quickly tossed on my jacket and grabbed my flashlight from the pile before tucking everything away into the glove box. My hand hovers over my handgun for a while longer. If I'd seen this before, I would have seen this as an easy way out. Now, I don't feel comfortable without it slung on the holster on my waist.
YOU ARE READING
The Outsider
神秘 / 惊悚A short psychological novel delving into Grey Kita and the ghosts of the past, which haunt him at each step of his life. Along the way, you'll learn that everything isn't how it seems when you see grey... Inspired by Silent Hill series.
