But why'd you leave

Leave these little hearts

Broken on the floor

Did you, did you

Really want so much more

Chasing paper dreams

And those fancy limousines

Packed up all our things

And scattered them like ashes

On a cold morning breeze

If I could give you

Just one more thing

Both a blessing and a hex

I'd show you how good we did

Without you

Our own success

I don't know where you are

And I don't really care

But you can just stay

Just. Stay. There.

You never forget the smell…or the taste. Did you know that arterial blood can leave the body at over 66cm a second? Basically, it can be likened to that of a vigorously shaken soda can. But the taste? Ehh…remember being a small child and biting the steel around the top of a shopping cart? That irony taste? Maybe that was just me. Haha. I’m 30 seconds in and already getting ahead of myself. This life that I live now all matriculated from one specific event. You may have heard the story already, it was in our local paper, but you didn’t hear truth. 10 years ago, almost to the day, I spent the afternoon hiking through trails around the Withlacoochee River. Not so much “hiking” per se, but wandering (I am an extrovert, to an extent, but the solitude of nature feeds my soul) I figured that I would end up close to the bridge where most of us high school outlaws would gather, swim, or drink a beer around a fire. As I traversed through the cypress trees, I caught a glimpse of him. Curtis Flaggman, the town scumbag and rumored pedophile, leaned his obnoxiously fat body against the large limestone that had been at the bridge as long as I can remember. He stared due west, as if looking for something. I stepped out a little farther, still concealed, and knelt by some palmettos to get a better vantage point. As I did this, I heard the raucous sound of a beater of a car coming closer to us. The car, an old Bonneville shit box, ran up the dirt road that led to the bridge, turned towards us, and jammed the breaks about 75 feet from the limestone that Flaggman was perched against. I immediately recognized the driver as she stepped out, Tanya Threshel. The poor girl whose drug addicted parents ran out on her to leave her with her elderly great aunt. She was pretty but the undeniable trashy attitude becomes apparent when she opens her mouth.

“Curtis!” she hollered “You better have cash this time! That check bounced higher than Willie Nelson!”

I kind of laughed to myself at that one.

“Shut up and get naked.” Curtis said smiling holding a handful of twenty dollar bills. Jesus, I thought. Tanya is only 16, confirming the pedo rumors about old Fattman, I mean Flaggman. Still, it unnerved me to think that Tanya had already resorted to prostituting.

“$200, that’s what I want!” Tanya demanded from Curtis.

“Ha!” Curtis guffawed with a tone of maliciousness. “You throwing in that shitbox car too, for that much?

“Forget it I’m gone.” Tanya said as turned back to the car. Curtis lashed out with a quickness that caught me by surprise for his size.

“You ain’t goin nowhere!” Curtis spat as grabbed a fistful of Tanya’s dark hair.

“STOP, OW, STOP!” Tanya screamed with the tone of a scared child.

My heartbeat increased instantly and I clenched my fists so tight that I felt my fingernails dig into my palms. “Should I intervene?” I thought to myself. “Should I stop him?”

At the moment I was pondering this, Tanya whipped around, planted her feet, and caught Curtis with a right hook that would have made Tyson proud. It was solid. The sound that a good raw steak makes when it hits the butcher block. Curtis stumbled back and in that split second Tanya bolted for the car, got it started, and took off before ol’ Tubby regained his composure. He came to, grabbed a Natty Ice at his feet (that I hadn’t seen earlier), and took a long swig, head pointed to the sky. Everything went black for me for a split second. This undeniable, guttural hatred filled me like lightning from my toes to fingertips. I broke into a full sprint before I even noticed. Curtis was only about a 100 feet away and must have heard me. He turned towards me slightly as I lowered my shoulder into his ribs. I felt cracking, as though one would crack their knuckles, as I made impact with his side. The “Oomph” he made let me know that I had both caught him off guard and pushed all of the air out of his lungs. Through all of this I stayed on my feet and the next few seconds played out like a slow motion cut scene of which I will never forget to my dying day. Curtis was lifted about two feet in the air and sent sprawling backwards into the limestone he just was leaned against. His temple made impact with the jagged limestone so hard that a large blood swath was immediately visible in the bright sunlight. Curtis’ fat, gelatinous ass rolled into the river face down. I watched for what seemed like hours for him to pop up demanding a fight. I was ready, nerves steeled, for it. After what seemed like forever, he floated to the middle of the river, still face down. My anger, aggression, and excitement all transcended into a sweet satisfaction that can only be likened to the first bite of your grandma’s homemade blackberry cobbler with ice cream. Slightly less than orgasmic, it was utter satisfaction. My world came back to me rather quickly and I realized I needed to head out before anyone showed up. I stepped back into the palmettos adorned with the cypress trees when I heard another vehicle pull up. I recognized the truck as my good friend Jet Carlson, he was a few years older than me and a reserve officer with our city. The girl in the bikini giggling and jumping out towards the river let me know that he wasn’t on duty. Jet grabbed a cooler from the back and headed down to the river himself. I crept deeper into the palmettos when Jet’s girl let out a deafening scream. I secured a spot to watch as the whole scene began to unfold. Jet sprinted to the river and stood sullen as he took in the scene. Realizing that his fun time was cut short he got on his cb radio in his truck and said a couple of things that I was too far away to hear. I sunk back into the woods knowing full well that the bridge would be swarmed with cops in a few minutes. Thoughts raced through my mind. Should I feel guilty? Did I do the right thing? Of course I did. There are people in this world that need to be dealt with. That thought pierced me. It came from somewhere else it didn’t feel like my own thought but something darker, deeper. The wail of a siren broke my concentration and affirmed my feeling that the local police, having nothing exciting going on in this small town, would be here relatively quickly. Trent Dougherty, a sergeant with our police department was the first on scene. Typical aviator glasses, stylish hair, and square jaw he looked the big time cop in a small town persona.

“What’d ya get?” Trent asked Jet.

“Well Sophie went to jump into the water and saw Curtis’ body floating, looks like he got fucked up and fell ’gainst ol stoney up there.” Jet said.

“You see any signs of someone else around, maybe someone Curtis had a grudge with?” Trent questioned.

“Grudge?” Jet asked breaking into a belly laugh. “Most folks in town would have paid for the opportunity to kill that fat bastard. Are you kidding Sarge? He’s screwed more people than Ron Jeremy.” I snorted a little at that last one. Jet always had a helluva since of humor albeit dark, like mine.

Just then a van laden with “POLICE: CRIME SCENE” pulled up. My heart rocketed in my throat when out stepped a woman that I knew and had had a crush on for the last couple of years. Two years older than me, Ginger Heathrow stepped out of the van. Dark brown hair adorned with highlights pulled back into a neat ponytail sent a feeling down my spine. Warmth and comfort is all I can describe it as. It was the first and only time I ever have felt this way.

“Trent. What does it look like?” Ginger asked.

“Well, on the surface it looked like Flaggman tripped and landed against this limestone after having a couple and fell into the river.” Trent stated matter-of-fact like. Ginger walked closer to the scene.

“I need ya’ll to step back. We need to photograph the footprints.” Ginger said. Ginger took the time to exam the scene. She meticulously detailed things. I was just out of sight to really catalog the exact things she was looking for but, God Almighty, she was beautiful. From this point it all started to slow down in my mind, a relaxation, if you will. Ginger wrapped up her investigation, Trent stood there wanting more info and Jet kind of stood there with Sophie.

“Well you wanna ride to Timberlane and commit sins?” Jet asked Sophie.

“Jesus Christ Jet! You see this dead body and you still wanna do it? Sophie said.

“Well, yeah, he was a douche bag.” Jet said

“Take me HOME!” Sophie yelled.

“Aight…” Jet muttered knowing his fun time had been cut short.

Jet and Sophie loaded up in the pickup and headed west. Sweet Ginger must have gotten enough of evidence and loaded up in her van. Trent met her at the passenger door.

“Well Ginger you go it all wrapped up? He said.

“Yeah, I can’t really tell if anyone else was here at that time. I mean, there were a hundred different shoe impressions here. So…my best guess is that you were right.” Ginger said reluctantly.

“Thought so.” Trent said. “How bout I take you out.”

“I’m sorry Trent but I have to focus on my scene. It’s very rare that I get this kind of event happening in our town.”

Trent was perplexed and angry. “Well damn, if you don’t want a man like me just say so!” Trent walked pissed back to his patrol car sullenly.

“What a petty little jerk. I mean if he wasn’t so full of himself he would be cute.” Ginger thought aloud to herself.

Ginger got into her van and pulled away.

Damn it’s dark now. It’s time to head home.