Voices

3/26/13 1. I am in the streets at night. I go to my house and there is a friend there. We get into a fight, and he shoves me. I strike him down, and shove him across the floor. I punch him again. His head touches the unpolished concrete roughly, and blood comes from his head. The rage that I felt before turns to panic. He does not respond. I check his pulse, and he is still alive. I freak out about what will happen when he wakes up, and I take a hammer and bludgeon him. I hit him many times until the blood gets all over my arms. I become so angry at him, yet so sad. I experience emotions that I cannot describe. I leave his body. It is now six in the morning, and I go outside on the streets again to cool down. I am filled with satisfaction but also deep regret. The perfect idea ignites in my mind; I would dump the body in the field ten blocks behind my house. I only have an hour before sunrise, and I run inside to grab the body. It is gone. Someone took it. I am freaked out since I have no idea what is going on. Why would someone want a body? Why would they want to help me? Are they working for the police? The cops are at school the next week. They say they want to talk to some students. They check everybody's arms for traces of blood. I wipe my hands with a baby wipe just to check even though I know their their technology could find me even if I bathed in ethanol. The officer is coming around slowly to each desk in turns as my English teacher speaks. I get up to ask to go to the bathroom in order to get out of this. Someone sitting behind me who I do not know says 'Cannot. They will not let you leave.' I switch seats with him because he already got his arm checked meaning that the officer would check him twice, and I would go free. Then the man asks me a question. I answer it in a subtle voice. He tells me to speak louder. I do, but he reiterates his request. I speak above medium volume, but he still inquires me to talk louder. I do not respond. He says something. I reply with a graceful shot that echoes and shudders the classroom and the faces of the children astonished by my newfound extroversion. The officer is about to condemn me for switching, but he leaves the school, saying that there is someone in the neighborhood he wants to check.