"NO! NO!, DON'T" Noah screamed from his lungs, as the plasticky, almost new, muddy-coloured Glock 19 aimed for his head."This is how it ends." Martinez muttered, but this wasn't new for Noah: He heard it before…
His breath hitched. His heart pounded at his throat. He had heard this before… but where? The realization seeped in, slow and suffocating. The goddamn script.
"Wait! Please don't." Noah pleaded for mercy, sweats were bulleting like the glock 19: Bang, bang, bang. Drowned in a drenched old, torn t-shirt, kinda reminds him, he swiftly turned to the back, took the wall as the starting block, and prepared a run that will beat Usain Bolt in Olympics.
He ran to his bed as fast as he could.
Before he could react, the bullet flew—tearing a clean, precise hole through his skull.
Red, thick, metallic...
He flew, collapsed hard to the dusty, reeked, cold cheap linoleum. The same old blood returned, but this time it wasn't a random thing, it's his surety of death, the one dark and tragic.
He felt anger? Anxiety? Or the fate that is marked on his head?
Pain? More like hell's blazing fire, the one red and amber, burning for his sins, the same sins crawling his back.
Had he done good? Maybe.
Had he done bad?
Absolutely. Either way, karma had come to collect its debt.
The blood splattered, flowing like a river, spreading across the floor. It was warm—a sharp contrast to the cold, shitty cracks beneath him. But all he felt was death creeping in, slow and certain.
Consciousness slowly fading, it wasn't the first time, but it's the last time he was going to feel it. The memories: His childhood, his loving father, High school, Mia, their first kiss, and whatnot shit. These were revolving around his head, what he could have done in this life? What he shouldn't have done? Is he going to heaven? Fat chance but not enough to convince God for him to deserve. Second life? Better fuck not.
It was his last nail in the coffin. His last bye to the stupid, degenerate world. Oh yeah, his reddish liquid was binding with Jack's ol' bad water. What an alcoholic wet dream emulsion.
His peripheral vision was getting smaller and smaller, the angles of the world were getting into a tunnel with an end, his eyes closing its lids, slowly but surely. A tear drop from his eyes, regret or the heart break from Jacky.
His lungs spasmed, sucking at nothing.
Then… nothing at all.
No sound. No feeling. Just a void.
---
Darkness. Silence.
Then—
A faint ringing, sharp and insistent.
A heartbeat—his?
A sharp beam of light pierced the darkness behind his eyelids. A dull ache throbbed in his skull. His fingers twitched. Wait… wasn't he dead?
Heat flooding back into his body. Something tangled around his legs. He gasped, sucking in stale air
Noah shot upright, lungs heaving. His sheets tangled around his legs. .Noah lurched himself right up, throwing the blanket from his hairy body. He's in bed.
Noah had questions, is second life real? What? It ain't the end of misery? Shit!
He thought it was the end of God's narrative, but now, God has more to the story.
Then Noah stood up, he's naked, except for the black underwear he's wearing, hiding his precious ornaments. He ran towards his bathroom, the mirror position changed, but why? Did someone change it?
He looked at his old, big forehead, it had more signs of wreckage than he ever realised. Wait? It was untouched, the evil bullet and its crooked hole. They were missing. It felt like a stupid nightmare that never really happened. Same shit, same fucking script. This made Noah terrified of not knowing what will be ahead.
"You are losing it Noah", he muttered. His sanity on the verge of the abyss.
He went towards his room. His heart beat skyrocketed, a figure under his light yellowish blanket, he stared at the figure. The figure moved left to right, and exchanged position after a while like a human. Noah stood there still, cold and terrified. But the fly was ever-present, humming in his overgrown, hairy ears.
Noah mustered his courage, each step careful, deliberate. His feet moved in cartoon tiptoes, his breath held tight.He braced himself, ready to yank the blanket away—like a pirate digging a lost treasure..
The blanket slightly removed, little did he realise it was….Mia. His ex-girlfriend that he apparently knew broke up was at his bed.
"Good morning, babe" She muttered through her deep coarse yet sweet honey morning voice.
Babe? That sounded foreign to him. Who was the Mia he talked to two days back? Who was whe?
Mia pulls Noah into the blanket, she puts her soft hands over his hairy curled chest, the hair of her hands was non-existent, much like a laser trimmed. She wore a caramel-colored sports bra and matching briefs, complementing her lightly tanned skin. Mia hugs him tight, an exchange of soft slow warm breaths, a mutual relationship bonding was in the air.
Noah couldn't piece it together. The gunshot—why had it happened? Mia—who the hell was she? And most importantly…
How was he still breathing?
Noah could've got distracted into the intimacy, the fact Noah flattened by the right curves around her body, always, but he didn't choose to.
He stood up, laid against his body to the side of the cold, broken bed. Followed by Noah, Mia stood up.
"Remember, what's today?" She asked. She asked her boyfriend but in reality, she really asked a drunkard bastard who can't figure the thing that's happening, is he dreaming or dog water gave him dazzle blow.
"Umm… no-" Noah stutters, he knew Mia more than himself. He could foreshadow the storm, but guess what? What does an idiot do except blunders?
"Yes, you don't" Her face frowned real bad. Anger and disappointment clouds around her face, words can't fill to describe her dismay.
Noah knew where this was heading. He had two choices: improvise or drown.
Noah quickly grabbed his phone, went to his calendar, it's Mia's birthday. It's Feb 30, what?
He couldn't believe his eyes, Feb 30? How the hell does it exist? Sikes!
Mia's birthday was on May 29th, he knew that since this hasn't been a one-time thing. Relationship perks.
"Hey, hey, I was joking" Noah blatantly lied but it was the only option he was left with before getting shots again.
He stood up, energetic and with a forced smile "Let's go to a diner!"
Mia's mood swung all the way from very sad, devastating to excited little chick. Turning the frown upside down.
Noah went to shower, his body was in no shape. He hasn't touched his beard for weeks and the overflowing rough and dull hair. His pale body had gained fat, a lot of them, he was jacked up in college, from shredded body with lean fat, to a more average 30 year old fucker where muscles are hiding underneath the oil belts. is puffy eye bags and dark circles looked like someone had smeared ink beneath his eyes. Most probably, due to Lydia's fuckening.
Noah trimmed his breads with an ancient trimmer to save barber's costs, guess what? He lived up to his name, fucked up the whole beard with a rush, uneven, jagged beard hairs. At the end, he had to shave up his whole beard.
Noah left the shower, Mia went to the shower, the shower hissed.
Noah went to his privileged but still good looking closet, looked up at his, and found his least worst tuxedo. He wore it.
Meanwhile, Mia came to the scene, massaged her face with her ritual skincare, along with expensive makeups, red candy lipstick, dark mascara, artificial eyelashes, Noah was already sinking into her light blue eyes that resonated the depths of sea. Cherry on top, a bright red dress, with the right curves of her body, she looked like a barbie doll.
By the time they left, the time was midday, the sun was striking at the top of their heads, hot and bright.
They went to the garage, here's another inherit, a car he got from his father, a 1998 Toyota Corolla. She's a reliable ride, at that time a classy one as well. Good fuel efficiency, more importantly, holds up to this day. Noah's inner car enthusiast kicked in, uninvited as always.
They got inside, Noah on the driver's side, Mia on the passenger. Felt like, angel princess and his loyal chauffeur.
"So what are we up to?" Noah asked, he dearly wanted a cheap diner. God, please. Internally he begged for it.
But God had other plans.
Mia's eyes sparkled. "Let's go to Sunny Side Midnight! I've been dying to try their brisket platter."
Noah's stomach twisted. He had maybe two hundred bucks to his name. The restaurant's name alone sounded expensive, like the kind of place where the menu didn't have prices—because rich people didn't need to ask.