A Just Cause.

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

I had yet to learn how to cook salmon. Earlier, I had stopped by the fish market on my way home from the station. The market reeked of the sea, but it was definitely cleaner than the other market on the other side of the neighborhood, which was good since I noticed the fish quality has worsened every year. The fish market was the only place to purchase non-synthetic fish, not those kinds that feel like sponges at typical retail stores.

All went well today; as I was walking back into the station, I began to process all the things I was going to tell her about what happened that day at school. After meeting up with Sarge at lunch and quickly breaking down the series of events with Ava and Teddy, I went back to school to be unexpectedly met with more good events. Sarge was already pleased. I just couldn't wait to tell her about Lucas. I had gotten the chance to finally talk with Lucas today, and he was worse of a person than I had thought he was. Friendly was the correct way to describe him, although that caused him to reveal exactly what type of person he was. I could read him like a book. He was the type of person that everyone knew of, as a rebel or an outlaw, glorifying himself through his "cool" style of living. These high schoolers were doomed, just as our nation's future was.

Lucas had a nickname he liked to go by – LoLo. I could tell he was a reasonably nice kid. He and I spoke about how Bedfort Academy was, and I lied to him about attending that school as well. I had already thought of things to say by then, so I had created myself a background as Carl Armstrong. I believed that creating a suitable and fitting background for the student I am playing, was vital to fitting in with these students. I had to be respected, and while dealing with kids as dumb as the ones in this school, it was as easy as simply just being a liar.

I now stare at the salmon, lying lifeless inside of the sink, as I appreciate the life it has given up, just for someone like myself to eat. The smell of the ocean, mixed with the cold temperature inside of the studio apartment, brings me right back into the fish market. How disgusting. After letting the windows open to eliminate the smell, I begin gutting the fish. I knew people would typically buy filets, already butchered and such, but I actually enjoyed this part about cooking. Being able to hold some life in my bare hands had a powerful feeling.

After successfully searing the salmon, I plated everything onto a dish, ready to go sit down and enjoy my dinner alone. I would typically watch something while eating, so I wouldn't sit there wholly bored. When I first moved out, horror movies and murder documentaries were up my alley, but I'm more into actual news nowadays. Habitually, there would be at least one homicide case or some type of big narcotics bust once a week. Ever since I was just a child, I noticed that criminals all had one thing in common, which was that they weren't actually bad people inside. They all had their reasons, just as I did.

I inspected the last piece of the fish, holding it right in front of my face. The sear was perfect, leaving the flesh inside raw, maintaining the bright orange color it had while taking its last breath. I found I didn't enjoy salmon very much. The news had stopped alerting the public about the case I was involved in, which brought me slight relief. They always seemed to move on to the next, proving that people didn't really care about someone's life. They just cared about feeding their heads with the same useless news. I couldn't blame them; it was fun to watch the city slowly burn.

I laid out the situation I faced. With multiple suspects, only one can be chosen. I certainly didn't have enough information or intel to make anything sure, but I was still already drawing out my plan. It was all up to the image, I realized. The image of the individuals was what I needed to know, and the rest would be clockwork to someone like me. It was challenging to remember how all of this started, not just this case, but how I got myself into the life I was living. I noticed the sun finally setting over the horizon outside of the dirty window, helping me answer my own question.

My mother.

Before Mom was gone, I remember it wasn't much different, as I was born the person I am, but after her death, everything changed.

I stopped getting flashbacks a while ago, but if I wanted to, I could remember it, clear as day. It was difficult going through that at such a young age, however the freedom after, was incomparable to anything else. I pictured it as the initiation step to finally letting my true self free.