Julian walked over the pack of snow and managed to get in the middle of the empty street. He was wondering. Wondering about what he was about to do. What things that stupid video was making him do. He put his hands in his pockets, and felt the cold gun in his palm.
Marco was going to pay for that mistake. Best friend or not, putting up a video of your friend strip-teasing for the camera is a huge mistake. For weeks, he had been bothered by everyone at school; even teachers looked at him differently. He had been beaten up, almost killed by a gang of seniors. His girlfriend had broken up with him, not wanting her reputation to take a shot. His sister would consistently laugh at him at home. As for his father, well, he just ignored him, as usual. He had nowhere to go but that empty street he was walking on
Suddenly, he saw a brown thing lying on the ground, a few steps down the road. He came closer to it, and realized it was a guitar. It was a terribly bruised acoustic guitar, with a missing B string and many cuts throughout the body.
He looked around. No one in sight. He curiously picked up the guitar. He had taken lessons when he was a little kid. He was forced to stop everything after the tragedy. No more money, his father had told him. He later discovered his father had sold Julian's guitar to a neighboring pawn shop to buy heroin.
Bastard, he spontaneously said.
He strummed a few chords, here and there. He placed his fingers to form a C, a D, an F, etc. He was trying to remember that song, with lost souls in fishbowls What was the name of it? Was it a C? Yeah, and after that there was a D. Then, was it an Am or a G? No, it was definitely an Am. Followed by the G. He began playing the song, even though he didn't even remember the title of it. Wait, he said out loud.
He knew the band's name. Was it King Floyd? Or Pink Crimson? No, he was confusing everything. It was Pink Floyd. Yeah, with that David Gilmour guy, he thought. He was still playing the song, when suddenly:
How, how I wish you were here We're just two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl Year after year
There it was! The name of the song was Wish You Were Here, and the band was Pink Floyd! Memories rushed to his head. He used to play that song over and over again when he was practicing! Now everything was coming back. He could play the whole song! It didn't sound quite good with the crappy guitar, but it was still a magic moment. He played the song one more time, singing the lyrics with passion.
He let the last G chord ring. He immediately had a flashback. He was 6 years old. He was playing the song, alone, in his room, singing with a really high voice. His father rushed in. He told Julian that his mother had been killed by a client. The sucker wanted more than what he had paid for, and his mother had refused. The client had choked her to death.
That was why he had trouble remembering the song. He was trying to erase it from his mind, because it would bring back horrible memories of his mother's death. Wish you were here. Exactly
He had nothing left to live for. No family. No friends. Nothing of importance. Why should he pull someone else under with him? He had no reasons of killing Marco. He had all the reasons to kill himself. Why not? Who would notice his disappearance? Certainly not his father He took the magnum out of his pocket and put it to his head, put his finger on the trigger and
Dude, what the f--k are you doing?
Michel Giroux-Burroughs, 2009