Artistikem

I was sitting there with myself waiting for the night bus and I couldn’t stop thinking about her face as she realized how much harm I could inflict on her.

She cried, she screamed, but nothing could stop me from killing her. So stern in her arguments, as if she wore blinders, life blinders.

“Give me all you’ve got, miss.” A voice demanded. It was cold, it was solitary. Who else was it than a robber?

“Fuck off, punk.” I said without looking at him. I didn’t care if he shot me, I had no money on me.

“Give me your money, gimme everything, come on.” I could tell he was nervous. I looked up at his gun and it was silver and looked very bright under the lamppost.

“Silver? For real? Everyone will see you.” He glanced round us. “Just kill me, I’ve got no money, no jewelry, and I just killed someone. Like you will now.”

“Who said I was gonna kill you?”

“What you’ve got that gun for if not for killing?”

He paused for a moment, his eyes turned for the floor introspectively.

I took the gun from his hand and pointed it to his forehead. His whole body shook, frightened. “Don’t kill me, don’t kill me please.”

“What kind of robber are you if you are afraid of dying?” I pressed the cold metal to his forehead. “I’ve killed. Can you tell by my face? No. But I did it, I killed my best friend because she just wouldn’t shut up.” He got on his knees, his hands on the air, surrendering. I was so sure of what I was doing that it wasn’t even funny. How did I get to this? When was it that I turned into a murderer? Yes, when she decided to leave, when she decided her boyfriend was more important than all the plans we had together.

“Are you gonna kill me for reals?”

“I killed her because she was stubborn. Because she wanted to abandon me for what? Him? A man who didn’t deserve her, a guy who wouldn’t stand beside her when she decided to fulfill her dreams? I was there for her always.” I had to stop myself. Was I going to explain myself to a stranger?

I pulled him by the shirt. He was shaking so badly I had to secure the gun by entwining his fingers.

“Shoot me.”

“Let me go, please. I won’t kill you.”

“Do it!” I pulled the trigger myself. “Now you’ll know how it feels to kill someone.”

My shirt, dampened by my own blood, frightened him to the core. I stood there as the bus stopped next to me, it was empty and so it remained as I dropped to the ground and felt the cold asphalt under me.

“Live!” I opened my eyes and the robber was over me, his hands pressing my wound.

“Get off me!” I tried to push him away but he insisted on me lying down. Then he started calling for help, he summoned the bus driver, he took his cell phone and gave it to him.

“Call an ambulance, she needs assistance.”

“Don’t call anyone. Let me die, I deserved it.”

“No one deserves to die.” His eyes looked directly into mine and I saw a glint of light on them. I thought it was the one on the other side of the dark tunnel that leads to death, but there was no elevating sensation on me. “It’s going to be okay, ma’am.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I ain’t no murderer. You are.”

**Versión en Español**

Ella estaba sentada al otro lado del escritorio observando fascinada mientras le explicaba el plano arquitectónico desplegado entre los dos.

Ella, Stephanie, en toda su gloria de los dieciocho años con sus pechos apretados y su largo cabello rubio.

Del otro lado, yo, el perro viejo con heridas aún abiertas, que cada día y sin pensarlo me enamoraba de ella más y más.

“Si pudiera dibujarte lo haría.” Le dije.

“¿Y por qué no lo haces?”

“Porque no soy bueno dibujando gente.”

“Ah, pero yo puedo dibujar unas flores muy nítidas.”

Sus ojos brillaban mientras le daba el papel y el bolígrafo. En cuestión de segundos me devolvió el dibujo de una flor de cuatro pétalos redondos que no parecía ni viva, ni real.

“Es perfecta.” Dije y suspiré.

Tenía que serlo.

**English version**

She was facing me from the other side of the desk fascinated by my explanation of the architectural drawing displayed between us.

She, Stephanie, in all her eighteen year old glory with her perky breasts and her long blond hair.

On the other side, me, the old dog with open wounds, that without thinking about it was falling in love with her everyday a bit more.

“I’d draw you if I could.” I said.

“And why don’t you do it?”

“Because I’m no good at drawing people.”

“Oh, but I can draw some neat flowers.”

Her eyes were bright as I handed her the paper and pen. In a matter of seconds she gave me a drawing of a flower with round petals that looked neither real nor alive.

“It’s perfect.” I said and sighed.

It had to be.

It was years since I saw Johanna, since I felt the butterflies in my stomach when her bright brown eyes met mine. That night she knocked on my door and made them come back.

“Josh, I need your help.” Her voice trembled. I felt the air outside and it wasn’t cold. “Are you busy? Are you with someone?”

“No.” I hadn’t been with anyone for a long time and she knew it. “I’m alone.”

She stood silently under the doorframe, shivering from head to toe. “I have to show you something.”

How could I resist a request from her? I walked beside her to the street where her car was parked. It was almost midnight, it was dark but I could see her profile clearly, it had the same effect as always: make my heart skip.

“Johanna.” She gave a fright jump with her hand already on the edge of her car’s trunk. “It didn’t go well the first time, but I have to tell you…”

“Josh, this isn’t the best time…”

“I’ve been in love with you forever. The moment I saw you walk into my office with that smile to introduce yourself as the new head of the Customer Service Department I fell for you.”

She popped the trunk open and I gasped.

“This isn’t the best time for that.”

“Who the hell is that?”

“A guy I met. He had a dispute with the company. I took the call, resolved it and we thought we hit it off.”

“But, what is he doing in your trunk?”

A groan came from inside. I took a step back in horror.

“I thought I killed him.”

“Get me out of here, Johanna.” The man pleaded.

I helped him out. He stumbled all the way into my house, keeping a hand holding the back of his head.

“How could you do this?” I sat the man on the sofa and turned abruptly to Johanna.

“One moment we are making out in a parking lot after some drinks and the other I’m inside her trunk.” He hissed in pain.

“He bit my lip. You know I hate that.”

“That’s your excuse for hitting a man and throwing him inside your trunk? How was he supposed to know?”

“I drove all the way from New York for this? Fuck my life.” The man grunted. “I’m Mike, by the way.”

“Josh, nice… well, you get it.” He dismissed me with a wave of his hand. His skin was turning pale.

Then I remembered why I hadn’t seen Johanna for so long, even when I loved her with every bit of my heart. I peered into her eyes and a rush of coldness overcame me.

“Don’t tell me you…”

“I did.” Her eyes welled up with tears. “I stabbed him. I couldn’t help it.”

The blood had stained the black shirt under his jacket but he hadn’t noticed until then.

“You fucking stabbed me?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t just stand there, dammit. Take me to a fucking hospital! I can’t feel my legs, I can’t fucking feel my legs!” His screams of desperation pierced my ears. “And I didn’t even get to have sex with you, crazy bitch!”

“Don’t you insult her like that!”

“For fuck’s sake, don’t defend her, she’s nuts!”

“You see this?” I pulled my shirt up and showed him a three inch scar on my stomach. “I know what you are going through, pal. So shut up.”

“She’s a schizo!”

I ran into the kitchen, frantically searching through the drawers until I found my chef’s knife.

“No,” I towered over him lying horizontal on the sofa “I’m the schizo for loving her.” And I slashed away my anger on his skin.