Who Needs Friends?

He promised his wife he wasn’t going to work tonight, tonight was their 10 year wedding anniversary. She hated him working the streets, but he said he’d be cutting back his hours.

I got an armed robbery call and there he was, with me, we’ve been partners for 15 years. We’re like brothers so he definitely wasn’t going to let me go alone.

I probably should have tried harder to make him go to his wife, oh she is definitely going to hate me. We arrived and the moment we stepped out of the car, bang.

My best friend fell.

Laying there, motionless, breathing heavily, the flashing lights almost blinding him, the panicked screams almost deafening him.

He watched as people scrambled to get away, oh how he envied them. How could a day that started out so well end in such disaster? How was he going to explain this one? I suppose he didn’t really have to.

Looking down at his exposed chest, blood pumping from where the bullet perforated him, each breath he took got shorter, and shorter until there was no more breathing.

The screams and lights soon faded, and at last, he felt nothing but peace.

I couldn’t help but think he was the lucky one in all of this, another gun shot and another officer went down and another and another. How was I the only one still standing in all of this?

I turned and came face to face with a man who had the largest smile on his face. He tapped me on the shoulder and went back inside the bank, I looked down at my partner, my friend who was now resting in peace. I realised why his wife would hate me, it was me that shot him.

Where the hell was my head? The last few days were a blur, the moment I saw my best friend fall I finally woke up, I killed my best friend! Not remembering how I became involved in any of this I went inside the bank, the thugs were raiding the place, shoving money into fabric sacks, their faces full of joy.

I had made a grave mistake, I raised my gun and pointed it at the guy I was face to face with moments ago, I pulled the trigger, his blood spray across the room and he hit the floor with force. His two friends stopped what they were doing, a look of shock over came them, without hesitating I pulled the trigger on the two of them, I had swiftly ended things.

The customers and staff inside the bank thanked me, started cheering, I was no hero, I killed my own work colleagues, there was only one thing I could do. I put the gun in my mouth, shut my eyes tight and pulled the trigger.

I opened my eyes and I was still inside the bank, the gun had been emptied on the dead people scattered around the room, I felt relieved, I didn’t want to die.

I stopped for a moment and thought to myself, “In for a penny, in for a pound.”

I walked over to the sacks of money, picked them up, walked out of the bank and got back into my car, I could hear more sirens in the distance, I quickly got out of there, now a rich man.

Who needs friends anyway?


13 thoughts on “Who Needs Friends?

  1. Pingback: The Writing Asylum « Evolution.Of.Insanity v2

  2. Pete, a wonderful story and its completely different writing to your other blog, well done and i applaud you for your effort. I look forward to reading more.
    I might even subscribe and put you in my blogroll :lol:

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