Writing Prompts

(Part 2 of 2)

Josh's face peers out from the partway-opened door. A look crosses it. Surprise? Disgust?

"What the hell, Kevin? I thought your family left town days ago. What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Hah! As if I would go with those fools." I say, my mouth full of wool as I wrench off the second mitten. I spit it onto the floor between us.

His eyes, those hateful, hateful beady eyes, glance down and then back up to me.

He sighs. "That's too bad. I really think it'd be better for y---... anyone to be around loved ones at a time like this."

I don't dignify that drivel with a response.

"What do you want, Kevin?"

"I want revenge."

Another sigh. "I'm not going to help you with one of your petty grudges, man. The world's ending in"---he peers at the watch on his wrist---"seven and a half hours, in case you forgot."

"Hah hah ha ha! I don't need you to help me, you simpleton. Because you are"---I sneer to strike the fear of God (or maybe the devil?) into him---"my target."

"You have to shit or something? What's with that face?"

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Look, normally I'd let you in to use my bathroom, but Amelia's here. If you need to shit there's a public restroom on the first floor."

"Don't ignore me! I'm here to kill you for ruining my life, you stupid bastard!"

His eyebrow shoots up. Yes, that's right. Feel the terror running through you. "For ruining your life? When did I ruin your life?" He leans on the door as he says it, now too awash in fear and adrenaline to even stand up straight.

"Don't worry. I'm only going to kill you. I'll let Amelia live. I'm too much of a gentleman to hurt a woman."

"Yeah, sure, right, great. But what did I do to ruin your life? Can we start there?"

"Don't act like you don't remember!"

"Not acting."

I can't hold myself back. I slam my fist into the wall next to the door. Let him see how I've been restraining myself all these years, when I could have killed him at any moment. Let him fear! My hand connects with a thud. The wall does not break, and I bite my tongue to stifle the sudden shock of pain.

That doesn't make any sense. There are so many holes in my basement room from when my dad really pissed me off. Why didn't this one budge?!

Josh clears his throat. "That looked like it hurt. You want an aspirin? You can have the whole bottle if it'll get you out of here quicker. Not like we'll need it."

"It didn't hurt at all, stupid." Okay, great. It doesn't want to move. It feels numb. How am I going to grab the gun from my right pocket with my left hand? That's going to look so awkward.

"If you say so. So, how did I ruin your life? I won't be able to sleep tonight if I don't know." He says, trying to pretend that his agape mouth is a yawn and not a barely suppressed squeal of terror.

"Three years ago." I say through gritted teeth.

"Three years ago? I dunno. You've lived three years since then, and I didn't notice anything different. You don't seem ruined to me."

"But it could have been different! I could have finally been happy, but you took it all away from me! You took away my one chance! And I've dreamed of this day ever since."

"I'm sure this is all very clear to you, but you're going to need to be more specific. I must have ruined a lot of lives without realizing it, since nothing's really coming up."

My hand rises up of its own accord to slam the wall again, and I barely restrain it. I'm losing control of my demons. I can feel the uneven press of fillings grinding under the pressure of my rage.

"Jess---i---ca." I barely manage to get out.

"Jessica? Oh, you mean that girl who was on our team before she transferred over to Devops? I remember she was nice, wicked smart too."

"And she was mine! You turned her against me!" I can feel spittle flying past my lips. This is it. This is the moment. Did I take the safety off? What was a safety again? How do you take it off if it's on?

"Oh, I remember now." He raises his shirt up to wipe his face, revealing his stupid fake toned stomach. "She asked me if I'd sent her a picture of a dick from your Slack account as a joke, and I told her I hadn't."

"And if it weren't for that, she'd be my wife right n---"

I don't know what happened. One moment I'm getting on with the preamble of my speech, and the next moment I'm sprawled against the opposite wall. My jaw hurts, and everything tastes like pennies. My vision finally settles, and I see some red splotches on my pants. I wipe my mouth. It stings.

And there's Josh, looming over me. Ready to take advantage of a cheap shot to put one over on me and hold me back from achieving my destiny, like he always is.

He shakes his fist before rubbing his temple. "You know what? I'm not even going to apologize for that. You're a real piece of work, Kevin. You always have been. I just hoped that one day you'd wake up and figure it out.

"I did my best, you know, I really did. I helped you get that job, I put you on my team. I fucking shielded you from the consequences of your shitty work, apologized for your goddamned outbursts. I even kept you from getting fired.

"I should have listened to Amelia from the start. She told me you were a lost cause, but I didn't want to believe it. I don't know what the fuck happened to you in middle school, but that smart, nice kid I knew is fucking dead, and I guess he has been for a long time.

"The world's not out to get you, man. I've been in your corner, your mom's been in your corner, our teachers liked you---they worried about you. Don't even get me started on what your dad did to get you through college.

"You have so many people doing their best to help you out, and you're always so pissed off. About what? For what? What fucking reason do you have?

"And let's talk about this 'revenge' for a second. I ruined your life... because I didn't lie to cover your stupid tracks? I ruined your life because I convinced Jessica that you were socially awkward but harmless, and wouldn't it be nice if she moved to a team with more upward mobility by the way? I ruined your life by risking my career for you?!

"Did you ever think that maybe it's your fault for sending a picture of your penis to a coworker who you'd only ever talked to during morning meetings? Did you ever think that maybe you had some control and responsibility for the way things turned out? That maybe people would have liked you more if you hadn't wasted so much air insulting them? That you would have had better luck dating in college if you hadn't only approached drunk women at bars? You got a reputation for that, you know.

"People used to like you, man. And even when they stopped liking you, they still loved you. Even though you did the best fucking job you could to be unlovable.

"You've got seven and a half hours left. Maybe you can figure something out before the world ends, but I guess it doesn't fucking matter. And since it doesn't fucking matter, I don't want to see your face again. I'm going to spend the last few hours I have with the woman I love. I want to say that I hope you can spend yours growing up and realizing the world isn't---wasn't---as ugly as you wanted it to be, but I frankly don't care. Fuck off."

The door slams shut, and I hear the sound of a deadbolt slamming into place.

I'm staring at my boots. Something warm dribbles off my lip.

After a few minutes, I push myself to my feet. I wobble over to the door and lean down to scoop up my mittens. Fuck you, Josh. I'm going to kick that goddamned door down, and we'll see who's fucking responsible for fucking what.

I tug the mittens onto my hands, and start towards the stairs. Turns out that going down is easier than going up.