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His name was lukas and he was a total weirdo. really handsome though, with strong cheekbones, slim, kind of punky but, i don’t know… mysterious. my room mate clare was in that class as well so we’d stick together most of the time. one morning she came in to class a little flustered, sat next to me and said, the owner of the building is selling it and we gotta move by the end of the month. oh no! i said, shit! i know, it sucks! she said. i talked to my uncle who lives a couple of blocks from here, he said he has a little studio in the back of his house which i could use, so i guess i’ll be moving there. soooo sad though, i liked living with you lara, she told me and squeezed my arm. ugh! i gotta find a place?! i asked all bent out of shape, then that weirdo lukas turned to look at me, i think he had listened to clare and i talking, he was staring at me looking all serious. made me a little nervous. a couple of weeks went by and i could not find a single place available, it sucked. i. ‘How many times did I say that? How many times did Kevin say that?’ The gun felt weightless in his hand, another ghostly apparition, like the ten year old boy who stood beside his bed each night when he woke up sweating and choking on bitter tears. The recoil barely shook a tremble through his arm as a second hole appeared in the man’s chest. The cry echoed in the room but still he remained seated in the chair. The bottle toppled from its table and tumbled onto the worn carpet, spilling whiskey into the pool of blood. ‘Please,’ the man whispered, his voice scraping against the insides of his throat. ‘Please, Brian.’ Brian stood close enough to smell the man’s sour odor. The staleness of wasted years. His eyes had lost any indignation they had held and now Brian only saw a pathetic old man staring up at him. An old man ready to pay for his sins. He leveled the barrel of the gun at his father’s forehead. Through every inch of his body, he could feel his heart beating madly. Sweat had.
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