No One Calls Me Clarence

The Crime

Pop-pop-pop.

The first shot caught the kid in the shoulder. His body jerked like a puppet on cut strings.

The second took his legs. He crumpled, slammed into the dumpster with a hollow thud. A wheezing gasp forced its way out of his chest as he slid down the metal, leaving a dark smear behind.

The third—

That one made him stop moving.

The alley went dead quiet.

Except for the sound he made. A wet, rattling breath, like his lungs were still trying to work, like his body didn’t realize yet that it was over. His fingers twitched weakly at his side, grasping for something that wasn’t there.

Javi didn’t move. Didn’t lower the gun.

His face was flat. Empty. Like he hadn’t just shot a kid.

I couldn’t move either.

I could still hear the ringing in my ears. Could still smell the gunpowder mixing with the thick, greasy stench of whatever was rotting in the dumpster.

The kid’s mouth opened slightly. Not a word. Just breath. Just the faintest sound, wet and gurgling, like maybe he was still trying to ask why.

Then—

SIRENS. LIGHTS!