A Mind to Kill

My best friend, Jill, and I were walking down a side street in the French Quarter around dusk when a man appeared out of nowhere and scraped to a stop in front of us. We jerked to a stop and stared at the husky man before us. He wore jeans and a white T-shirt. His long, frizzy hair had been pulled back in a loose ponytail. An unlit cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth. “Got a light?” he asked. I said no then in the light of a street lamp, I saw a sort of tricky spark in his eyes. A squinty, I-don’t-like-you-bitch kind of glare. I latched onto Jill’s arm, gave her a subtle tug and began walking away. “What’s the matter?” Jill whispered. “Nothing,” I said and tried to hurry her along. I glanced back at the man, but he’d disappeared. I relaxed and slowed down. Then I heard a loud pop that sounded like an amplified cap gun. I felt a strong tug and struggled not to fall forward. I fell on top of Jill who had crumpled to the ground. I stifled a scream and tried to pull Jill up off the ground. “Come on, Jill,” I said, yanking on her arm. “I don’t know what that sound was but we need to get out of here.” I realized then what had happened. I saw the dark spot on her blouse; she had no pulse. I stared at her for what seemed an eternity. My heart raced. My hands shook. My brain screamed: Do something! Do something! From the blackness of night, a woman’s silly, faraway giggle brought me back to that cold sidewalk and Jill’s lifeless body. I pulled her to me and wept. I remember rocking her and saying over and over, “Please don’t die. Please don’t die.” I glanced up and down the street for someone to help. “Help me!” I yelled to the emptiness. “Please help me!” I heard a man mumble something unintelligible. He’d suddenly appeared behind me and I pleaded with him to get some help. I recognized the white T-shirt and frizzy ponytail; the cigarette dangling from his mouth. “Why did you kill her?” I cried. “Why?” He said something else I couldn’t understand then took off. The pounding of his shoes faded away into the night. In my mind, I heard a voice. Go after him! You have to go after him! But I didn’t. My life seemed frozen in some sort of macabre time warp. I floated in a Peter Max world of weird shapes and colors. And in all reality, what could I do? What would I have done if I’d caught up with him? Punch him in the nose? Ask him for his gun so I could shoot him? Nothing made sense. The only reality at that moment was that Jill had died and a piece of me did too. I blamed myself. I should have done something. Made Jill run faster. Ducked into a doorway. Screamed. Gone after the man.