Jamal's Ending

Jamal's Ending

Finally, he'd gone to sleep and I could hear his heavy breath coming slower now. I waited another thirty minutes to be sure and let him get into a deeper state of unconscious afraid I would wake him. Slowly I crept down the unlit hall careful not to brush against the rough plywood walls. There was no carpet here just dark yellow linoleum and I couldn't recall any creaks in this floor. Even if there was a creak in the floor I could quickly pocket the knife and feign going to the bathroom or sleepwalking.

In front of his door I stopped and listened for what seemed an eternity. I listened carefully for his breath and once satisfied that he still lay asleep in his bunk I started slowly, ever so slowly opening the door. It was plywood too and there was no latch of any kind. At least there wasn't supposed to be, it was against fire code to have a latch on these temporary dividing wall's doors. The door was moving slowly inward and I tried to listen as I moved it, sure it would let out a squeak on its hinges but then it caught and made a bumping noise. I froze in my tracks, turned to stone.  For a the longest minute of my life I stood motionless, my eyes glued in the direction of the bed, looking as hard as I could to see if I could make him out there. To see if he was looking back at me and seeing the knife in my hand. Finally the door was open and I looked harder into the darkness willing myself to see him. At last my night-vision was working and I saw him lying there, the focus of all my contempt.

He was the most inconsiderate son-of-a-bitch I had ever met in my life. At 24 years old, he had an ego that would stop at nothing. It wasn't just the ego, I could have gotten over the fact that he was, in his own self-proclamation, "one smart mother-fucker!" It was the way when he awoke early on a Saturday, he'd turn on the entire room lighting with no regard to the five other men in the room trying to sleep in on a day off. It was how he'd turn the TV to another station in the office when you were obviously watching with interest something that was being broadcast. It was how he'd take the stapler off your desk, use it, then put it in his drawer. It was how he'd make noises like moving furniture around until 1 or 2 in the morning when you had to get up and go to work in the morning. I hated him with all my soul and wanted him dead.

I tried to like him. I meditated on loving my fellow man, especially this one. It would work for a while then he'd pull some stupid move that just brought all the rage back in a tidal wave of nausea that increased in magnitude. He had to die, it was the only way I would finally get any sleep.

The door was wide open and I was starting to move in. Each step took at least a full minute to complete, moving the 3 feet from the door to his bed. I was there looking down at him, watching him sleep. He aggravated me just sleeping, but this didn't surprise me. He could just enter a room and piss me off. I contemplated the coup de grâce. He lay on his side, his head cocked at a forty-five degree angle from his body which wasn't perfect but it would work. His arterial jugular was within easy reach and while he might make some noise, he should die fairly quickly. I would probably have to select a different target to make this go as fast as I preferred, I didn't really want to wake up everyone else, I try to be a considerate roommate. The temple was soft and I was pretty sure I could drive the blade through the skull here, or perhaps directly through the eye into the brain was best. Yes, I thought this would be best.

I positioned the knife carefully. With one quick thrust I drove it in. I never expected the violent shudder the body gave when the blade sank home. It was like he was shocked by a high voltage. Blood immediately began to pour from the incision and increased when I withdrew my knife. I couldn't very well leave my Colt M-16K lock blade there, it was too nice of a knife. His body gave another shudder and I worried that he wasn't dead. I quickly made a slice in the neck as an afterthought but the blood wasn't pumping out like I had expected; his heart had already stopped. The aftershock must have been some nerve impulses or something.

I stole out of the room much faster than my entrance, he wasn't going to wake up now. Grabbing my towel and shower kit I silently went out the door. It occurred to me how if it had been him going out the door at 2:13 a.m. in the morning, he would have just slammed the door, oblivious to the others sleeping in the room. As I had thought, there was no one in the latrine at this hour and I took a long steamy shower along with my knife. The blood from my knife mixed with the water and causing a crimson river to flow down the drain. I was sure to move the shower head around and wash all the remaining red drops from anywhere they'd spattered. As I toweled myself off and admired the steamed up mirrors I whistled Mr. Sandman. When I finally finished my little chore and slipped into bed it was the most relaxed I had felt in a long time. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.