It has been said that death is the bringer of peace, but that is complete bullshit in my experience. I have seen three dead men and one dead woman in my days and they all looked like pain and distress. I looked down onto the distorted, jawless face of my victim that night and witnessed his surprise and post-mortem agony in overflowing quantities. And when I dreamed that night I made penance. I tried in vain to patch the hole in his face with endless handfuls of mud and sand only to watch it pour through the funnel of gore onto the steps below us. I didn't mean to save his life, but rather to save my own from the cancer of lifelong guilt, but it was proven futile when I awoke and saw Vanessa's pale nudeness reflected in the moonlight from outside the Burgess' cracked windows and realized what had been done.
It was strange because while I slept in short fits she was down deep, sleeping like I had never seen her manage before. The entire drive to my apartment had been a stressful and silent mess, but surprisingly Vanessa seemed totally calm. I had slain her personal boogeyman, and now bore the burden she carried for so many years before our paths crossed. My mind was running weary with thoughts of consequence which was contrary to my nature and the drink wasn't numbing the sound anymore. We must leave this ghetto sanctuary. I have to abandon my gun. We need to drain her father's bank accounts in the morning. I have to burn my bloody clothes. Anything to dodge my justice.
I got out of bed and poured a glass of whiskey. Vanessa had the good sense to grab some of her belongings as well as her father's cash and billfold complete with four signed blank checks, which was enough to get us far from here. I had two more days left on this week's rent at the Burgess but we had no intention of staying any longer, so as soon as Vanessa woke we would hit the road and get to her father's bank before the cops had time to monitor the accounts. I went for a piss and when I came back Vanessa was up and looking out the curtain-less window. I reminded her that a topless white woman in the ghetto was bullet bait, so we got dressed and left.
We arrived at the bank just as it was opening, and I waited in the car. Vanessa said they knew here here, and sure enough she walked back a half hour later with 40k in cash and a shit-eating grin to match. I had never seen money like that before. So much for any plausible legal argument for manslaughter or self-defense. Before leaving the state we decided to do some quick shopping, and Vanessa was so thrilled she decided to blow me while I drove. I almost killed us both and had to put a stop to it since she nearly bit my cock off when I had to suddenly hit the brakes.
She spent the next four hours buying mostly clothes, and I found a nice gutter to drop my revolver into. I had that gun since I was twenty and nearly cried when I heard it splash in the sewage below. Now my car was full of shopping bags and damning evidence and we still had no idea where to go from here, so we stopped at a fast food joint and ate our fill of discount tacos. There we sat in the car, a bag filled to the brim with $100 bills and we still ate like white trash. Fucking wild.