As the wind howled outside his apartment, James sat alone in his dimly lit room. His eyes fixated on the flickering of his floor lamp, completely and utterly lost in thought. He contemplated the events which brought him to this point. He was cursed to forever wander this earth alone, haunted by the memories of his past. James had lost everything he once called “precious”. His wife, his daughter, his entire world had been slaughtered. All he had at this point were memories of long passed, and an empty apartment.

He moved his hand to pick up the remote from his coffee table. The table laden with empty bottles of a variety of beer. He slouched back on his cigarette hole ridden couch, and turned his TV to the news channel. Yet he did not see any news. Instead his eyes fixated on an advertisement for a newly released AR-15. As the time went on, all his surroundings seemingly disappeared. His eyes exhibited a thousand yard stare, and seemingly de-focused. Even when the commercial ended it still seemed as if everything around him was nonexistent.

How ironic it was, that he of all people tuned into a gun advertisement. He whose entire family was taken away from him by the very same weapon. He had lost everything to this single thing, yet it was trying to be marketed towards him. His eyes finally re-focused and he snapped back into reality. 

It was finally back to the news. They displayed a mugshot of a younger man who had a look of innocence in his eyes. A man in a suit stated that they had finally caught the Dadeville Shooter. A distant yet comforting wave of relief mixed with anger hit James. The news anchor continued to state that the shooter, Willson Leerayy, was awaiting trial. He was being held in a police station near to James apartment. James’s anger boiled even further turning into unbridled rage towards this man. Towards Willson Leerayy who took his family. James hoped for vengeance, for this man to receive justice however it may be served.

The funeral for his wife and daughter had not been held yet. He wasn't composed enough to even go outside, how could he go to their funeral. How could he bring himself to see them. He wasn't able to do anything. He wasn't able to be a good father nor husband. He wasn't there to protect them. Never in his life had he felt such malice. Such raw and primal rage. He had to do something about this. He had to make this right. 

Trekking through the depths of his memories, he remembered his wallet had a slip of paper in it, with the phone number of an old acquaintance who dealt in illicit goods. James, having been around gang members in his youth, had some connections. As he punched the number into his old landline, his rage bloomed even greater. So much so he felt the veins in his neck slightly bulge. After a low toned click a man on the other side began to speak.

“Yo, who this?” said a mysterious and deep voice.

“It’s James, im not sure if you-” Before James could finish his sentence the man interrupted him.

“Oh shiiii, wassup man?”

“Not much Darnell, just uhh…wondering if you're still dealin.” James   replied.

“Not over the phone man, slide over to my crib.” Darnell stated with urgency.

“You haven't moved?” 

“Nah.” Darnell said before hanging up.

James put his phone back, hearing a light click. He began to scavenge around his run-down apartment for his things. Grabbing his keys which had begun to accumulate dust, off the counter. He scurried over to his bedroom closet. Reaching up on his tippy-toes to grab an old shoe box. Lifting the top off and throwing it to the side. Pulling out three wads of cash from the box, various bills bound together by rubber bands. He ran towards his entry way hastily putting his shoes on, the same ones from the old box.

Swinging open the front door, his lungs were filled with a nightly breeze. He stomped down the concrete stairs of his apartment. His loud steps echoing through the complex. He headed towards his crummy 1988 Pontiac Fierro. He opened the door with no use for a key, afterall his driver side door was missing the lock. He did however need his key for the ignition. As he turned the key he heard a slight rumble and crossed his fingers, and his car started. “Huh…first try.” he mumbled to himself 

Clenching the decaying shift knob, he put it in gear and began to venture to Darnell’s place. He very vaguely remembered where he lived.  He took a right onto main, then left onto Johnson. He was only able to distinctly recall the street, not the exact house. He slowly crept down the street, trying to remember something about Darnell’s house. He passed down houses with plywood windows, bullet ridden windows, hell one house didn’t even have a single window. He continued slowly down the block investigating each house he passed. Then he finally saw it. An old rusted El Camino, like him Darnell still had the same car since high school.

He pulled over on the side of the street near to Darnell's house. Ripping the keys out of the ignition, and yanking the handbrake up. A wave of anxiousness filled his bones, but his anger far outweighed this anxiousness. He had a thirst for revenge he needed to quench. He hesitantly walked to the front door of what he hoped would be Darnell's house. 

He gently knocked on the door 3 times, a minute passed with no response. Perhaps this was all for nothing he thought, his mind flooding with hopelessness. He began walking back to his car. All the rage he felt left his body, maybe vengeance isn't the right thing in the first place. Then the door gently opens, his heart skipping a beat. The rage and hated begin flooding back, like the opening of a dams water gate.

“Yoo James wassup homie, come in.”

James nodded and headed inside. Darnell's house was actually nicer than his. His carpet didn't have spots missing with concrete showing through like James had. He didn't have wallpaper peeling off the wall like James had. He only then realized his anger was still prominent. It was laying in the background of his actions, as if it acted like a fuel for his movement. A little under an hour has passed since he left his apartment. 

James finally phased back into reality, they were in Darnell's kitchen.

“So, whatchu need man?” 

“If you’re still dealin…I was hopin you could get me a piece.” James replied.

“You’re tellin me. You of all people got opps now?” Darnell asked while raising an eyebrow.

“Well, not plural but yeah,”

“So listen. can you slide me a piece or nah?” James said impatiently

“Shii…Normally it’s like 4 bills…but…I got you for three,”

“You wanna throwaway right?”

“Yeah, I’ll take whatever you got.” 

Darnell hands James a rectangular box in exchange for all of his wads of cash, and daps him up before James takes his leave. James quickly rushes to his car taking care to not be seen. He burst open his car door, almost ripping it clean off. He knew how powerful of an emotion rage was, and he was going to use every bit of it. As if he was an addict smoking scraped up resin. He slid the box under his car seat with enough ease to make one believe the underside of the seat, was made for the box. He puts his handbrake back down, squealing his tires towards the station where he is being held. Where Willson Leeray is being held.

He searched for directions to the station on his phone while stopped at a red light. Taking his delicate time to get to the station, if he was pulled over now it would’ve all been for nothing. He spent everything he had in hopes of accomplishing this, failure is not an option. Heading back down main, his mind raced. Filled with thoughts of “how” and “what-if”. How would he get close enough? What if he got caught as soon as he entered the station. With all of his focus put towards his thoughts his body was on autopilot, already being at the station before realizing it. 

He sought out the parking space nearest to the front door, parking in it, and ripping his handbrake up. Making an attempt to swallow his anxiousness, both trying to hype himself up and calm himself down. He reaches under his passenger seat for the box, mumbling under his breath “I hope its ceramic.” With his heart palpitating he opens his car door, his hands trembling with the action of doing so.

After taking a quick gasp of air, he began taking steps towards the door. One step after another, one, two he counted the steps in his head. Three, four, he kept walking. Five, six, he’d been walking for weeks. Seven, eight, he’d been walking for months. Nine, ten, he reached the door after years. 

Again, he gulped for air to try to quell his nerves. He was purely engulfed by emotion. Rage, anxiousness, fear, hatred, loneliness, pride, the all flooded him. He gripped the metal handle to the station door, feeling the cold metal embracing his hand. He opened the door, neither doing so violently nor gently. He used the perfect amount of force and walked in.

He was met with a metal detector. Under it white tile flooring that slightly resembled marble. Above it were squared ceiling panels like you’d see in a school. In front of it a desk with an inattentive receptionist. He prayed in his mind to his god that the metal detector would not go off. He stepped forward through the metal detector…and…no beep. 

A wave of relief washed over his soul, feeling almost cleansing. He thought that he just…maybe could accomplish this. The relief seemed to wash away his anxiety with waves of confidence. He could do this. Being fully composed mentally, he walked calmly to the front desk. A women in a blue uniform, and wearing glasses peered up to look at him.

“How can I help you?”

“Hey, I was wondering if your visiting hours were still open,”

“I have a ‘friend’ being held here.” James replied.

“Mhmm…visiting hours end at 10:15pm,”

“Could I see an I.D?”

“Yes, hold up” James responded while taking out his I.D and putting it on the desk.

“Who’re you here to see?”

“Willson Leerayy”

“Alright…and you're a friend you said,”

“Hmmm, alright you got 15 minutes.” She replied while typing away on her keyboard.

“Just head through the door on your left”

“Okay, thank you” James replied while smiling graciously.

He headed towards the instructed door, noticing the receptionist radioing someone that there’s a visitor. When he reached the door there was a loud beep, signaling it was unlocked. James was met with a short hallway followed by yet another door, with an armed guard stood beside it.

“James Dervishi right?” Asked the guard.

“Yeah, thats me” James replied.

“Alright, gimme one second”

The guard opened the door he was standing beside and headed in. Likely to tell Leeray he has a visitor James thought. He also figured the guard was somewhat disgusted, who in their right mind would be “friends” with a mass murderer afterall. It however didn’t matter to him. All that mattered was Willson Leerayy, that James prevailed in his revenge. The moment he’s been waiting for has arrived. All the emotion he’s been burdened with would finally go away, he could finally receive closure.

The guard came back and held the door open. “Head on in, you got 15 minutes” he said. James nodded and walked in. He had not been informed of witch cell Leerayy would be in. He however still remembered his face from the news. He could never. Forget that face…On the cell marked “A3” there he stood. Dawning normal clothes, having the demeanor of an entrapped man. 

“Who’re you?” Leerayy asked in a cautious, confused tone.

“You may not know me, but I know everything about you,” 

“You took everything from me!” James replied with a slight raise in tone

“What, I don't know you, what could I have possibly taken from you?”

“You don't know?”

“You degenerate. You slaughtered my family, among 10 other people,”

“AND YOU! Think you have the right to claim you did nothing wrong.”

James reached for his waistband, and within an instant he pulled the trigger. The bang echoed throughout the hallway lined with concrete and steel, amplifying it tenfold. The space around him slowed down becoming almost still. The guard hearing the ringing of the gunshot, quickly rushed in to tackle James. James noticed the man yelling something but he couldn’t make out a single word. In this moment he was in complete and utter shock. Deep down he thought I did it. Even deeper down he contemplated wether or not it was the right thing. What may have troubled the subconscious of James didn’t bother the conscious even a little. He would have all the time in the world to contemplate morality while in prison.

All that mattered to him in that moment, and for weeks after was that He. DId. It. He sought vengeance for his family, if prison was the price to pay for that then so be it. He would happily pay that fee again. He did not regret his actions. In all the emotions he felt leading up to the murder of his family's murderer, regret was never one of them…

Around 3 months had passed since he dished out revenge. He was now having to adjust to prison life. His trial hadn’t been held yet, he once again thought his situation was very ironic. He who murdered one person was in prison, while a mass murderer was only in jail. Immediately after he was admitted, he began following the “prison rules” he had learned from movies. He knew it was kinda stupid, but he had no other form of guidance to follow. Prison is a very scary place so James took any guidance he could receive.

As the days of his incarceration went by, he quickly lost count. Another seemingly normal day went on. He woke up 0600 as usual, got his breakfast in the cafeteria then went to work. He had to sort laundry making $0.10 an hour. At least it’s money he told himself repeatedly. Everything changed when it was time for lunch, there was a janky CRT TV in the corner of the cafeteria. Surprisingly the CO’s let the inmates watch whatever they wanted on it, they even had cable. Usually it was just cartoons they watched, but sometimes it was the news or a selection of  movies deemed appropriate. It was another rare occasion where the news was on, although strange it was kept so prisoners wouldn't be oblivious to the outside world.

James was eating his state provided “food” that was actually just an unknown mush. The news was covering yet another mass shooting in Texas, there were 15 victims. James realized deep down that his act of vengeance didn't truly amount to anything but selfishness. The shootings wouldn't stop. There wouldn’t stop being grieving families. There wouldn’t be tighter gun control. In the end it was all for nothing. This reality was slowly dawning on James more and more, day by day.

The news then cut to another story relating to the topic of mass shooting. The true Dadeville shooter, Johnny Taylor had been caught. Over and over again he thought one simple word. What. It filled his mind over and over again. It quickly became the only thing he could think of. His actions had been for nothing, his family hadn’t been avenged. The world around him once again froze. This news had sent him into a steep downward spiral. He had murdered a man. Not the man that took the life of his family. Not the man that killed 9 people, but an innocent man. The man that was falsely arrested. In the end his vengeance did not accomplish anything…