I Was Him

A Story by Ace St. Jean

I was him.

“I Was Him”

A short story

Ace St. Jean

The rain came down and washed the blood into the local storm drain where it would run through the sewers and be lost--likely forever.

It’s safe to assume that the man who stabbed her chose this day due to the weather conditions. He knew that the rain would wash away his crime, and he knew very well that no one would be out watching, especially in this part of town--except for me and another man who was now dead. I was now the single onlooker that he feared and would try to stop. I knew he would try to stop me, for I saw him murder the other man just a few minutes prior. I saw him kill the man in his car, and drag his body out--only to then hide it away in a dumpster. The car was left parked, and the engine was left running. I can’t stop myself from wondering what the man was doing out in the rain? I may never find out, for he’s dead, just like the woman who was also just murdered.

The murderer believed that no one saw him. But I did. I saw him drag her body into his white pickup truck. I saw him wrap a green tarp around her, securing that she would not be seen--it wasn’t like anyone was out anyway, except for ignorant men who sat in their cars watching murderers do their work.

I saw him drive off with the woman in the back wrapped up like a bean burrito ready for eating. I decided to follow him. I decided this, for I recognized the man, but I didn’t recognize the woman. I wanted to see what he would do. I knew he wouldn’t kill me even if I was found, not because I knew him, but because I had a gun on the passenger seat of my white Ford that matched his. I had it loaded, and the safety was off.

Turning into the street, I felt myself begin to shake and sweat. I felt my heart beat faster as the rain grew stronger. The wind began to cause the rain drops to batter the sides of my truck producing a slight clanging sound that you only heard in the rain.

I drove down the street at less than twenty-five miles per hour. I eased up behind the murderer. I saw him about ten yards from me stopped at a red light. The rain was making it difficult to see, but the light turned green--I saw it for it was the only light in the world at the moment. The rest of the world was dark and gray; it was rainy and boring, so the lights stood out.

He eased himself through the green light. Knowing I couldn’t stop, I followed him after running through the light while it was yellow. I pressed down a little harder and went a little faster. We left the town. The rain got louder on the roof of the truck. The visibility was reduced to almost nothing. I could see his brake lights, however. He turned down a road and we were in the country. We were passing by the cornfields, when the rain stopped.

It just stopped. The wipers removed the remainder of the water and I could then clearly see the murderer driving down the thin road in between the stalks of corn. I saw another truck parked on the side of the road. It was a white Ford, just like mine. I paused and looked at it for a few seconds. There were two people in the cab, and there was nothing in the back. I looked ahead and saw him turn left to a large body of water. It was a lake. It was calm and flat. It was in peace.

I stopped my truck several yards from where he stopped his. I grabbed my gun, opened my door, and stepped out. He turned around and saw me.

“Hello. What brings you here?” He said with a smile.

“I was just seeing what you were going to do with the body.” I responded with my gun pointed directly at his face. I was shaking and my heart was beating faster than before.

“I was planning on throwing her into the lake. Would you care to help me?” He asked this question with a larger smile than he had before.

I didn’t know what to say.

I slid the barrel of my revolver down my pocket so I could easily grab it again. I watched as he lowered the back of his truck. It was still running and the headlights were shining onto the lake, where the woman was destined. He pulled the woman’s wrapped body from the bed and allowed me to take hold of it. We walked her over to the lake and set her down right before it. And we both pushed her in, and we both watched he sink into the mud. And he turned to me with a smile, and I couldn’t help but smile back.

“Thank you for helping me.” He said.

“You’re welcome.” I said in return.

There was a welcoming nature about his speech. It made me want to continue the conversation with him, but I fired my gun instead, for I felt the urge to punish him for murdering the woman, and I wanted to relinquish my own guilt that was present, for I helped him dispose of her.

He fell to the ground. I felt a surge of pain. I looked down and realized that I had been shot too. Blood was spreading on my white shirt. Pain was surging through me as I fell to the ground and realized the truth: I was him.