Hey guys, just wanted to let you know that I will not be able to update next week, I will be in Montreal for March Break on a church mission trip and I will not be bringing my laptop with me. This is a longer chapter, so hopefully that'll make up for it! I hope you guys all enjoy it!
Two years later...
The women's hair was bright blonde, but fake looking. Like a doll. She wore an expensive fur coat, brown and black mingling together with a glittering diamond broach fastened on the collar. A smear of cherry red lipstick stained her chin, and grey eyeshadow was smudged under her eyes. She reeked of alcohol and cigarette smoke. Walking, (or stumbling, rather), down the street, she could barely see where she was going. Perhaps she didn't care. Black high heels on her feet prevented her from staying upright for very long. In the rain, in the darkness, she tripped over a crack in the sidewalk and fell.
I kept a fair distance and listened while she cried and mumbled incoherently to herself.
"Why? Why? Was I not good enough? What does she have that I don't?"
Cheating husband. I thought as much. I didn't quite understand it, the woman was beautiful. Fake looking, perhaps, but if you were that type of man it would've been enough.
"I'll kill him! I'll kill him and that bitch he left me for!"
She crumpled to the ground, sobbing wildly. The rain was drenching her coat. She took it off and threw it away, sitting there in a long black evening dress. Jewels like stars glittered in the light of the streetlamp from her necklace and earrings. She was obviously rich, but at that moment I could only recall an old saying; money can't buy you happiness. It was certainly true. This woman appeared to have everything she could ever want, and yet the one thing she really wanted was for her husband to love her.
The lady reached over for her fur coat and began rifling through the pockets. She wore a frantic expression.
"Where is it? Where is it?"
Finally I saw her draw out a small black gun. I could tell her intentions immediately. They were written across her makeup-stained face as if she were a book. She wanted revenge. Drunk, desperate, alone, perhaps she felt as though she had nothing to lose.
"I'll kill him!" she cried, dragging herself to her feet.
Perhaps there will be more than one soul to take away after this plays out.
Insensitive, much?
Please, since when do you know anything about sensitivity?
Fair enough. But, needless to say, I was interested to know what was going to happen. The woman managed to get to her feet despite the dark and the rain and her own drunkenness. She began to stumble away, back down the road, and I followed her.
The city we were in was a harsh place. If you were rich, you lived the life of a king. If you were poor, you barely lived a life at all. The buildings themselves were tall and impressive. Giant grey skyscrapers with hundreds of windows of glass. Gilded hotels with red-carpet entrances and limousines. The center of the city sported a large public garden complete with statues, fountains, and unnecessarily expensive ornamental trees. Of course, this was the rich side of the town. The poor neighborhoods... let's just say that 'abysmal' would be an understatement.
Back to our person of interest. She was trying to find her way in the dark; not a very good idea in her current state. She passed by streetlamps and cars. Through the noise of city nightlife and the pouring rain, you could just barely make out her crying. I felt as though I should've pitied her, but I felt nothing. I hadn't felt pity for anyone in a few years.
