Broke
Once upon a time, I shot four cops. I don’t know why. The gun was stolen, and I just remember being fairly certain that it wasn’t my time. I heard more sirens and footsteps, so before they could reach me I ran away.
And then I stopped. I turned around. I watched, I waited, and finally an officer caught up to me.
"I’ll go peacefully," I remember saying. I meant it, of course, and then he got close enough that I could headbutt him. I don’t know why. I couldn’t help myself, I guess. He fell down screaming and I ran way. I’m fairly certain he was alright.
I thought about skipping town, so then at that very moment I resolved to murder the mayor. He was corrupt, and he had done so much to help the city. I still had the gun. He had to go. So I left.
I went and stayed with some relatives. They didn’t know, and I didn’t tell them. Maybe I should have, I don’t know. Maybe they wouldn’t care. I don’t know.
One day a policewoman showed up on the front steps. I saw the car through the front window as I went to answer the door and I knew, I suddenly knew that it was my time. I practically felt the cuffs on my wrists; I was half ready to break down and turn myself in the moment the door swung open. Yeah, yes. Do it. Throw them cuffs on me, lady.
"We have reports of a burglar going through the area," she said. "Make sure to keep your doors locked at night and when you’re away from the house, and give us a call if you see anything suspicious."
I nodded. "Thanks, officer." She started to turn away. "Oh, by the way…" She turned around and looked at me. Her eyes were blue. "…have a nice rest of your day."
She smiled. It was a lovely smile, one I wouldn’t mind seeing again. I resolved never to call the police.
Not ever.