I was a middle-class man, then. Single and happy. I’m going to start with the important stuff and leave it at that.
It was an average day, and I was in a convenient store getting some mild painkiller. I heard the bell when they front door opened, and ignored it like usual…but a man started shouting at the clerk. “Open the register and give me the money!”
I hurried around to look with the other customers. He had a gun and pointed at me. I chose my words carefully.
“I’ll shoot!”
“Why? What do you have to gain?”
“…I have a little girl. S-she’s sick. Please, she’s only seven. Help me.” After a tediously frightening conversation, he left without hurting a soul.
That was years ago.
I got evicted from my house, lost my job, and was left to beg in the streets. I fell in love with a women. We didn’t mean to, but she had a kid. Then she got arrested, and I took the little girl and raised her like a father should. Her name was Roxanne. I just kept on begging, then…but when she turned three, I wanted a proper birthday for her. I stole a cake slice. She loved it…I couldn’t tell her what I did.
“Daddy, why’re we always hiding now?”
“We’re not hiding!” I always made up excuses to her.
Finally, another man mugged me in the middle of the night. I knocked him out and stole the gun he had…suddenly I had power again. I couldn’t support us both, so I started stealing during the night. It drove me mad with guilt, but what else could I do? I never actually killed someone with it, or even hurt them. Roxanne always asked me where I worked. I told her I knew a leprechaun, and he gave me money. She believed me like always. Then she got sick, and not just with a cold; she got really sick. She started getting incredibly thin as well. It terrified me. It was a hard decision, but I knew what I had to do to get her medicine. It was a normal day, when everyone else was out and happy, I went to a store with my gun in hand. When I stepped in and started telling the clerk to hand over the money, the other customers came around the shelves…and I found myself face-to-face with me. He was a little younger, but it was me. Middle classed, and good at speaking—he chose his words carefully. I ran away in shock. I assumed I was going crazy. I thought about killing myself, and I almost did with the gun in hand, but then I thought of Roxanne. Sweet, amazing Roxanne, the joy of my life. If I killed myself, she’d have no one to go to. Then the idea struck—I had a gun, and the man walking around in that store was me. It didn’t make sense, but if I went back and killed him, then I’d never have a chance to lose my job or have Roxanne. Neither of us would ever have to suffer. I shook it off, though, and went back to the alley me and my daughter lived in. In the morning, I made up my mind. I woke her up quietly, early in the morning, and hugged her to me. I kissed her filthy hair.
“Daddy, get off, you’re crushing me…”
“I love you so much Roxanne, okay?”
“Get off…”
“Okay?”
“I love you too, Daddy…”
I stayed a little more until she was asleep again, and started walking with my gun in my jacket pocket. I wrote it all down, and I’m giving it to the first person I pass. Well, you, I guess. You probably think I’m crazy. I don’t know what’s going to happen when I shoot him. Maybe it won’t work, and I’ll go to jail, or something…Listen. Roxanne lives in the alley behind Mopac, behind the neighborhoods there. Go look. If she’s still there and alive, take her for me. I guess you could call this a suicide note, sort of, unless I really am crazy. Thanks. Don’t share this with anyone.