Time to Kill
And who’s the little girl?
Never mind the girl…
Logic and Reason
Sarah wades into Chief Maxwell’s bedroom feeling like a cancer patient who was just treated to a guided tour of a mausoleum. Gene says something before he locks her in, but she doesn’t hear him. The water’s past her ears now, everything comes through as a muffled grunting.
Except for her thoughts, of course.
‘They’re going to kill me tonight.’ Sarah sits down on the floor at the foot of the bed and leans forward until her head is resting on the box spring. ‘The police killed my parents, and they’re going to kill me tonight.’
They are, too. She can’t escape, not now. She could have when Officer Thorton took her out of the house. Could have hijacked his cruiser, the guy left the keys in the ignition for God’s sake, but she didn’t. She didn’t have a reas–… well, she most certainly had a reason to try to escape, these dusty white folks murdered her parents and kidnapped her, but… but what? Had it not quite sunk in yet?
‘I’m going to die.’
Regardless, it’s definitely sunken in now. Sunken in nice and deep. Sarah Hammond, the daughter of none, is going to bite the bullet tonight… if that’s how they plan to kill her. Maybe they’ll just strangle her instead, or maybe they’ll be kind and shoot her up with a lethal cocktail of homemade dusty white folk drugs. When her parents were alive they didn’t like her to hear them talking their shit about the dusty white folks, but occasionally she’d eavesdrop, and when they weren’t commenting on the windowless white vans, they were usually commending the dusty white folks for their ingenuity in the ancient art of intoxicant apothecary. They can take just about any household product and find a way to get high off it. Sure, they’ll probably only be able to use half their brain when they wake up, but they wouldn’t feel a thing until then. Sarah would like to not feel a thing when she’s killed tonight. She figures an overdose would probably be her best bet, but then again these are dusty white folks, dusty white cops for that matter. There’s no telling what they’ll do when nobody’s lookin’ at ‘em. They might even go savage and stab her to death.
“But why? Why are they killing me, why me? ” Sarah asks herself as if she might be able to give an answer. “Is it… is it because I’m black?” She thinks this over for a bit, her forehead pressed firmly against the comforter draped over the box spring. “No, that doesn’t make sense. If the fat one… Maxwell. If Maxwell was actually a racist pig he wouldn’t have given me his bedroom.” She sighs. “Maybe it’s just because they’re cops.”
Sarah decides that doesn’t really make sense, either. Some cops are bastards, yeah, but even the bastards don’t go around killing random parents so they can hold the kid hostage for a day and a half and kill her off at night. Maybe it just defies all logic and reason, kind of like the way the priest didn’t question the fact that a police officer toted a little black girl into his fake church and asked him about what happens after you die.
Yes, that one seems to make the most sense. What’s happening to Sarah simply defies all logic and reason, and tonight she’s going to die. Sarah begins to weep then, and two dark tear stains spread through the comforter until they become one.
Hello Commons, this has been the eleventh subchapter of the third chapter of Under the Hood: The Imprisonment of Jonathan Knox, a novel about a man who likes to eavesdrop on his neighbors.
Under the Hood: The Imprisonment of Jonathan Knox is the second book in the W-2222 series, a series of books which take place in Universe W-2222.
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