The shove had been intentional.

He pushed me, I pushed back.

Bolstered by the poison of choice in my veins, I felt bolder than in a long while. For tonight, I felt like pushing back against the bullies that pervaded my day to day life.

Whoever this numb-nuts was, it didn’t matter. What did was that he started it first.

In the back of my mind, however, I knew to show restraint. Pushing the man and having him fall face-first into concrete might kill him. That would be bad.

Pushing him and have him spill his drink? That was good.

So I weaved left, avoiding another person, and stumbled right.

My shoulder hit his. The drink shook.

The man cursed and I muttered my apologies as I simply kept walking.

Thus it was a shock when police came to say hello half an hour later. Paramedics were shoving a stretcher into an ambulance. They then took off as fast as possible.

The sound stayed with me as the police officer held open the door to the back of his patrol car. I entered and listened to the fading sirens.

It was a haunting sound.

I stared at the ceiling, contemplating my life choices.

Mom and Dad had always raised me to be a good person. A bit strict. A bit unfair… but were not all parents like that? I could remember a few instances that they told me of their ideals.

They were not perfect, and neither was I.

I sighed and sat up. I felt better today. Much better.

The small hangover I had was gone, and in its place was a refreshed feeling that I hadn’t felt in a long time.

The police took my report, of how I stumbled into the man. Who then proceeded to trip and die. My look of horror was enough to convince them. Along with the security tapes.

I just bumped the man. That was it.

I was released that afternoon, and I headed home.

I didn’t know what was worse. The fact that I killed a man, or the fact that I didn’t care.

If there was one thing I disliked about living in my area, it was that there were a lot of questionable people around. Addicts that had gone down the deep end. Homeless people. Criminals.

I made my way into my shoddy apartment. It wasn’t much, but it was mine.

The simple job at the bottling plant was also shoddy, but it was all I had.

After all, I had my own demons to run from.

The outskirts of the train yard were lifeless. Not even animals came here since the various loud sounds were intense. It was equally deafening from the lack of sounds at night.

The falling sunset everything to an orange tint as autumn was in full swing.

I just wanted to get home and take a nice shower.

“Hey, buddy…” a voice whispered as a ragged man slid up to my side.

I stared at the man. Charlie was many things, but good wasn’t one of them. A hustler. A conman. He still owed me money.

“Charlie,” I replied as I tried to walk faster. This was not my day.

“I got some goods!” Charlie half whispered, half screamed. His hoarse voice was desperate.

“You still owe ME money Charlie. I am not in the mood!” I hollered back and kept moving. Tonight was not a night I needed any help. I did not need to focus on what had occurred. I could still see the face of my unwitting victim.

I felt Charlie move up to me. I turned around. Saw the gleam in his eyes.

I backpedaled. I took short skips back as I fell to what I thought a boxing stance might be. One of my old friend's voices, Nate, whispered in my mind as an old memory came up.

‘Always keep your guard up. Fight dirty, because you no one fights fair.’

My eyes fell to the shiv in Charlie’s hands. He was going to kill me.

Charlie began to scream as he ran towards me.

I screamed back and hopped to the side. My body felt so light.

Charlie passed me, and I could see his face change as I suddenly vanished.

Documentary. Movies. Nate’s commentaries. They flooded my mind with crystal clarity.

I let loose with a straight punch. My body was in textbook form like Nate had shown me so long ago.

I wanted to aim for his chin. To knock him. To stop this madness.

I aimed for his temple. To kill him. Life or death.

My fist connected, and Charlie’s head was thrown to the side. He simply slumped to the ground. His breathing shallow. Then it just stopped.

I made it up to him and saw the poorly sharpened knife in his hands. My eyes saw the roughly treated metal gleam in the setting sun.

I ran.

My legs pumped until I made it to my building.

I felt tension build until I opened my front door. I locked it and slid against my rickety frame.

My mind stayed strong.

I took a shower. The cool water fell over me. Relaxing me.

Masking my tears as I broke down.

I killed another man.

I fell to the bed in an exhausted sleep.

I dreamed of my youth. Of days warm and soft.

It was a good night.

————

I woke up the next day.

My mind felt clear. I could remember my fears, but I also could remember my father. I could remember more clearly than ever before.

He had faced life and death, running from his heartless government. He narrowly dodged checkpoints and scrutiny as he fled overseas.

‘Sometimes, its just you, or them. Choose yourself, unless you have something to protect.’

Those words washed over me and I made coffee on autopilot.

I felt good this morning, and I stared at the fresh needles on the counter. No demons clawed at me and I ignored it and the other small bag of meth.

For the first time in years, I stared at those crutches and I cleaned them up.

I lined up the needles into the small box I used to hide them in. The drugs were put into smaller drawers I had been given as a gift from an ex...

Shauna. When had she left me? Those memories were hazy.

I cleaned up my apartment and straightened the place up. I used that vacuum I had found, but it didn’t work. I used the internet, found the model, and saw a video on how to fix it.

I recall doing this long ago. It frustrated me then, but it was so simple today. Probably the scares and lack of drugs.

To my pleasure, the thing turned on. I cleaned up my place.

Five full bags were my reward. Refuse. Old food and pop cans.

There was even a small bag of old needles.

Then my alarm rang. I blinked as I ran into my room and turned off the alarm. 9 AM.

When did I wake up!?

With a smirk of newfound life, I made my way to the street. Garbage into the rusted bins. I even had time to drop off the used needles into the city special bins.

With a whistle, I made my way to work.

————

I wasn’t sure what had changed over the weekend.

I whistled as I easily emptied the dirty water into the drain. It used to be so hard to do this, but today… it was so easy. My body felt amazing as I did my rounds, and either swept or mopped.

I could easily deal with my job now. Which made no sense. My mind clear, I pondered on what had changed.

I smiled as I greeted the workers. I laughed at jokes.

Everyone looked at me as if I had grown a second head.

It made me smile.

Life was good.

I left work with a smile, and simply took a walk around the industrial districts that I once despised. Loud, smelly, and full of assholes.

Or so I had believed.

On a lark I cut across the same train yard I usually avoided. I had a hunch, and apparently a sociopath’s mindset. I made my way home.

I ran into two more homeless people on the way, but I felt no urge to murder. I gave them my last five, and the pair scampered off.

A third popped up halfway through the yard. Another bum, but this one had a beanie on that caught my eye.

Trevor. A dealer in drugs much like Charlie. They were rivals but kept away from each other. They had gotten into more than one scuffle.

“Hey! Jamie!” Trevor smiled as he saw me. I usually either bought from Trevor when I was low on cash, and or I desperate for a hit.

I smiled as Trevor walked up to me. Jamie wasn’t my name, but Trevor did not exactly have a sharp mind anymore. If he liked you, you also got a better deal, so no one ever tried to correct him.

“How's business, Trevor?” I asked and I nodded along with his answer.

I stared at him with a smile and felt no urge for violence.

Interesting. I was afraid I had somehow become addicted to murder since I woke up feeling incredible. But no urges meant that probably wasn’t the case.

Then why was I feeling so good nowadays?

“Jamie… got any extra cash for your friend?” Trevor asked as he leaned in.

“Sorry Trevor, literally just gave away my last bit of cash,” I replied pointed towards the missing two other bodies.

“Jamie… I saw you last night. When you hit Charlie. The police showed up this morning. Had questions… I need some money, Jamie,” Trevor said. His voice was steady and he stared at me.

I stared back. My mouth hung open.

He wasn’t joking.

I nodded along and hung my head with a sigh.

“It was self-defense, Trevor. He was going to stab me. Charlie… went crazy,” I sobbed. Trevor nodded along and patted my shoulder.

“No worries. For a few bucks, I can simply say I don’t know anything.,” Trevor soothed as his eyes glinted.

I nodded along as we made our way back. I lead the man who was thinking of money.

I leaned into him as my tears and sobs grew.

Trevor hobbled along. We made our way over to the small river that divided a third of the city. We were about to make it from the low path to the highway, where there would be more people.

Then, I simply wrapped my other arm around Trevor. The dirty, smelly man simply sighed as he just wanted extra money and some warm food.

The crack was sudden enough that Trevor slumped lifeless to the ground.

I stopped my crying, surprised at how easy it was to turn on the waterworks, and I grabbed the man’s grubby woman’s purse.

I pulled out some drugs and a thin stack of dirty cash.

I used Trevor’s hands to rub-down the wallet, and then put it back.

I dragged Trevor up the stairway, and then simply kicked him down. The body rolled down the steps and stopped at the foot of the downhill walkway.

I dusted my hands and whistled as I made my way home.

I wondered if I would feel good again tomorrow, and I was a bit uneasy at how murder number three was so easy.

What was happening to me?