Charlie rolled out of bed to the sound of his alarm clock. His pudgy hand turned off the bothersome noise. He sat up and sighed.
"Another day in hell," he muttered to himself. His large physique caused the bedsprings to squeak as he departed from the twin-size bed. He trudged into his tiny bathroom to get ready for work. Dirty clothes were strewn on the blue-tiled floor and the dingy mirror above the sink was halfway open. He bent over the cluttered sink and splashed water on his face. He rubbed his eyes and looked up into the mirror. He turned the water on in the shower. Steam began to escape the shower door as Charlie shaved his double chin. He took his shower, toweled off, and put on his clothes for work. He opened his closet and found a brown suit that catered to his short round figure. He zipped up his atrocious brown pants around his 43-inch waist, and buttoned up his wrinkled white shirt. He picked out an equally unfashionable tie from his makeshift tie rack he had constructed himself and draped it around his neck. He took his matching sport coat off the hanger, and slid his arms through the sleeves. He tied his tie and tucked in his shirt over his protruding stomach. He combed his dark hair from one side to the other in attempt to hide his bare scalp. He looked at himself in the mirror and thought What a handsome man. He gathered his things for another day of work at Bartlett Insurance Agency where he sold life insurance to the petty people like himself. Charlie was just another insignificant person in the masses getting ready for work on another weekday for their nine to five job. Charlie was different. He had no family or anyone who loved him, for he was a selfish man. He made his money only for himself. Charlie picked up his briefcase and walked out the door. He locked the door behind him, and set out for the corner coffee shop to drink his daily cup of cheap coffee and silently read the sports page.
After exiting his apartment building and walking a few blocks, Charlie walked in the door of Sally?s Coffee Shop causing the bell above the door to jingle behind him. He sat down at the diner and ordered a cup of black coffee, and a jelly-filled doughnut. A middle aged woman sat next to him. She opened her purse with her thin fingers to pay for her breakfast. In it was an eclectic array of daily needs. She pulled out five dollars and dropping a twenty dollar bill on the floor in the process. Charlie saw this incident and decided not to notify the women, thus showing his true greed and total lack of morals. She smiled at him, paid for her food, received her change, and walked out to the streets of the city. Charlie picked up the twenty-dollar bill and put it in his pocket. He finished eating, and drinking his coffee, and paid for them. He then walked out of the coffee shop causing the bell above him to jingle once again. He began to walk toward the subway station in his worn brown shoes that had molded to his hefty feet. He walked down the stairs to the dark subway below. He smelled the stench of millions of people making their way from home to work and back home everyday. He bought his token, put it in the turnstile and went through. He waited for the train going southbound. He stood and waited. Charlie looked around the subway and saw a young man staring at him. His blue black hair shined even in the dim lights of the subway. The young man quickly looked down at his shoes once he realized Charlie was looking at him. Charlie walked away from the young man, and stood in front of a man playing his guitar by the wall. Loose change sat in his guitar case.
"Excuse me sir, can you please move people can?t seem to get to my guitar case," the man politely asked.
"Well you shouldn?t have sat here," Charlie said rudely because he didn?t want to move.
"But sir, I," the man began, but the train arrived and Charlie walked off. Charlie loaded onto the train and sat down in a seat. His large body seemed to spill onto the young woman beside him. She smiled and moved closer to the window. Charlie didn?t smile back, he simply began reading his newspaper again. He read as he heard the sound of the wheels on the tracks. Three stops later Charlie got up. The train halted moving the passengers in a swaying motion. Charlie stumbled toward the doors holding onto the overhead rail as the train ceased. The doors slid open and Charlie got off. He made his way through the turnstile and up the stairs to city streets. Charlie walked two blocks reaching the building in which his company was located. He entered the tall building through the glass doors.
"Hey Charlie," Pete the doorman greeted. He was sitting in his blue uniform behind the counter. God I wish that guy would just leave me alone, Charlie thought. Charlie kept walking toward the elevator ignoring Pete?s courtesy. Charlie pressed the button. The elevator doors slid open. Charlie stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the third floor. Charlie stood in the elevator and saw a sign he never noticed before. It read "Maximum weight 400 lbs." Charlie sighed in relief as he continued to wait for the elevator to move up the shaft to the floor of his office. The elevator stopped and the doors opened. He got off, and walked to his office. He walked past several desks of his fellow co-workers.
"Good morning, Charlie," Marty, a fellow insurance salesman said. Yeah good morning you job-stealing bastard, Charlie thought in his mind, and continued walking to his office and sat down.
Charlie sat in his chair on the third floor of Bartlett insurance. He rocked back and forth in his chair. His portly body made the chair squeak with every movement as he read his newspaper. Then there was a knock on the door. Charlie could see the frame of a slender man behind the translucent door.
"Whaddaya want?" he called toward the door. The door opened and in walked a young man, about in his 20s. It was the same young man from the subway. He was nicely dressed in a black suit, a neatly pressed white shirt, and a black tie. In his hand, he carried a black briefcase. His shoes shined, and he smiled an odd smile with his white teeth showing as he sat down in the facing chair. His blue black hair was slicked back, and his bright blue eyes looked at Charlie through round thin-rimmed glasses, that gave him a sophisticated look.
"Can I help you?" Charlie asked.
"Are you Mr. Charles Bronson?" the young man asked.
"Are you interested in insurance?" Charlie answered the young man?s question with another question.
"Well, are you Mr. Bronson?" the man asked again.
"Yes I am. What do you want if you don?t want insurance?" Charlie asked.
"I am Damien. My mother was Rosemary Parks. I believe, sir, I am your son,"
"Rosemary? What? What? Why..why do you think that?" Charlie looked guiltily at his so-called son.
"My mother told me you left after you found out she was pregnant with me and she never saw you again. She died last year, and I decided I should try and find my father," Charlie?s barely present guilty conscious took over. He remembered his mistake and refused to face it. With that he stood up and looked the young man.
"Get out of here! I know you?re just lookin? for money. Just like your mother a you greedy bastard. You probably aren?t even my son. Your mother was a tramp, and you?re probably not even mine. Get out! Out! Out of my office! Now!" Charlie insolently showed the poor boy out of his office.
"Son. Ha! He?s probably not even mine. He can?t be," Charlie said to himself. Charlie sat back down at his desk and started reading the newspaper. The rest of the day Charlie sat lazily around his office doing little work.
At precisely five o?clock, Charlie packed up his things and headed for his single bedroom apartment. He left his office, finishing another days work.
"See ya, Charlie," Marty said. Charlie just looked at him, and then he saw Marty?s dark eyes change to a bright blue. Charlie shook his head in disbelief. He continued to walk toward the elevator. He left the building to the streets and starting walking toward the dismal station.
Charlie walked down the stairs into the dark urine-smelling subway. He bought his token, went through the turnstile and waited for the train. He quietly stood whistling to himself, and rocking back and forth on his heels. Then an old homeless man in a wheelchair rolled up to him.
"Sir, can I please have some spare change? I will be very grateful," Charlie looked down at the man. He scoffed and replied in a spiteful manner,
"You think I have any spare change for someone whose just gonna use it on scotch. Your just another drunk who can?t get a job," The old man looked up at him, and his face seemed to change into Damien?s young face for a split second. Charlie rubbed his eyes, but the man?s face had turned back into the dirty face he had seen before. The man moved on to the person next to Charlie.
Finally, the subway showed up. Charlie climbed on the subway and sat down in the last available seat. The doors shut, and the train began to move. Charlie open his newspaper and began reading the sports section again for the third time. The train stopped at the next station. An old lady with a cane teetered onto the train. Her white hair was sloppily put into an untidy bun with bobby pins barely holding her thin hair into place. She carried bag of groceries in her hand, which seemed to be too heavy for the fragile old lady.
"Excuse me sir, may I please have your seat. These old bones aren?t what they used to be, and I just can?t seem to make it as far as I used to. Charlie refused to give up his seat. Charlie looked at the old women. Her hair seemed to change from white to blue black in a split second, but changed back just as fast as it had changed. Charlie rubbed his eyes again. Am I seeing things? What?s wrong with me? I?m probably just tired. I?ll be better when I get home, he thought to himself. He continued to sit in his seat. Finally, it was his stop and he got off the train. He walked off the train and into the subway station. He walked up the stairs to the stale air of the city streets. He began walking toward his apartment. He walked past several people. Then a mangy old dog of just skin, fur, and bones started following him. Charlie turned around and looked at the dog. The dog looked longingly at him. He began to rub up against Charlie?s leg.
"Get off me, you damn dog!" Charlie said, and kicked the dog away. The dog looked up at him, and the dog?s light brown eyes changed to the bright blue of Damien?s deep eyes. Charlie immediately started walking faster toward his apartment. What?s wrong with me? Everywhere I go I see some part of that damn kid, he thought.
He reached his apartment, and reached in his pocket and got out his keys. He opened the door to his building and walked in. He walked to the elevator. On the door of the elevator, a crudely written sign reading "OUT OF ORDER" was taped to it. Charlie kicked the door, and cursed. Now he had to walk up two flights of stairs. His heart attack prone body lugged up the staircase. Charlie panted loudly as he ascended the stairs. He finally reached his apartment 2D. He got his keys out and opened the door. He plopped down in his recliner, picked up the remote and turned on the TV. Then there was a knock on the door.
"Whaddaya want?" he yelled toward the door.
"Mr. Bronson, it?s your neighbor Mary Jane Witherspoon. I need to talk to you," Reluctantly, Charlie got up and hauled his large frame to the door. He opened the door. He found himself looking at a middle-aged woman with graying brown hair. Her face seem to have aged past the years that she really was. Her face looked distressed. She stood with a little boy in front of her. Her hands were on his shoulders, and he squirmed under his grasp. He had blue black hair parted in the middle, and his bright blue eyes glared at Charlie. He felt as if he was being scrutinized under the child?s stare. He immediately slammed the door in their faces.
"Mr. Bronson, please open up. I need you to watch Billy for me. I have to go to work, and if I don?t I?ll be fired. My babysitter is sick, and there?s no one else who can watch him for me. Please Mr. Bronson," poor Mary Jane pleaded.
He didn?t want to help her. He just wanted to sit silently in his chair and watch Monday Night Football.
"Please leave. I can?t. I have things to do, and I can?t watch your kid. I don?t have the time. No go away. You?re disturbing me," he replied unkindly to her plead. He sat back down in his recliner, and starting watching TV. Then he heard a pounding on the door.
"I can?t watch your son. Go away," he said. The door opened and Damien walked in. He was still wearing his neatly pressed suit and carrying his black briefcase. He sat down on the couch nonchalantly as if he did it everyday in his life, and thought nothing of it.
"How did you?" Charlie began.
"Unlock the door," finished Damien.
"Yeah," Charlie said and looked down at his chubby sweaty palms.
"Your key is hidden is on the top of your door frame. You?re not a very bright man. Are you Pop?" Damien replied.
"Why are you here? What do you want from me?" he asked uncertainly.
"Your heart," he simply replied with a baleful grin.
"M-m-my heart?" he stuttered. Charlie always stuttered when he was frightened or nervous and now was no exception.
"Yes, you bloody still-beating heart," Damien confirmed calmly as he kept his eyes on the TV. Charlie looked petrified. His usually rosy face went white, when he heard this. His eyes grew wide and he began to sweat feverishly. He began to nervously play with his fingers.
"W-w-w-why do my heart?" he stuttered barely achieving to get out his question. He put his hand up to his chest. He felt sick.
"You wronged me. You denied me as your child. I want you to know how it feels to have your heart ripped out, and have this on-going sickness in the pit of your stomach because you realize you were an unwanted child," Damien went on with no emotion and no feeling, "You abandoned me. I know you know I?m your child. You wouldn?t have even thought about me. You wouldn?t have seen me in all the people you encountered today,"
"How did you know that?" Charlie asked. He was in disbelief. He wanted to run, but he felt like he was cemented to his chair. He couldn?t move.
"Trust me, Pop. I know everything," Damien replied. He turned his head and looked at Charlie with his blazing blue eyes. He continued.
"You know you were wrong. That?s why you?re scared. That?s why you refused to talk to me. That?s why you kicked me out of you office. You know you were selfish and cowardly. I just want you to pay for what you did," Damien didn?t seem to threaten like a normal person. He said it without a care. He said it as if he was having a conversation with the postman.
"I wanna make you suffer in your own personal hell, Pop. I want you to realize how it feels not to have a heart. I am here to take your petty heart that is unable to love or care for anyone but yourself," Damien explained. Charlie looked into Damien?s eyes and in them, he saw his own tormented future ahead.
"Oh, Pop. I wish it could be some other way, but no not with you. Not with a person like you. Not with a person who has any soul. You didn?t know what you were getting into when you met my mother did you? Well she was a powerful lady. She taught me well. She taught me people have to pay for their actions. And now Pop it?s time for you to pay for yours. You abandon my mother. I can never forgive you for that. I love her so very much," Damien went on. His tone sounded like he had rehearsed this speech hundreds of times. He never faltered. He never stopped to think of what he was going to say next.
"Your selfish heart only thinks of yourself. I have decided that you don?t need it anymore. It doesn?t serve a purpose," Charlie just wanted to get up and run away, but his body didn?t seem to move under Damien?s stare. He felt frozen under Damien?s truthful words. He listened and replayed his selfish and cowardly life. He thought about all the things he had done. He realized all he had done to all the people in his lifetime. He remembered the old man in the wheelchair, he remembered the woman in the coffee shop, he remembered the old lady with the cane, he remembered the mangy old dog, and he remembered Mary Jane, and her son.
"Damien, I realize all the things I have done. I realized they were all revolved around me. I should have never had abandoned you and your mother. I was wrong. Please forgive me," Charlie pleaded.
"Sorry, Pops. I can?t do that," Damien said as he patted Charlie on the back. Damien stood up and reached for his briefcase. He opened his suitcase and pulled out a knife. It was a large knife with a big handle.
"Please! Damien, please!" Charlie pleaded for his life. He started blubbering pathetically. Damien turned the knife around and slugged Charlie over the head with the blunt side. Charlie blacked out and his big body fell to the floor.
Two hours later Charlie awakened to find himself cleverly strapped to the wall. His feet were tied together and his arms were spread out. He was hanging in the shape of a cross. His body was supported by an intricate tangle of ropes. His head ached, and his wrists hurt. Charlie looked frantically around his apartment. Damien emerged from the bedroom holding a surgeon?s scalpel. He confidently paced back and forth and looked at Charlie with false concern. Charlie was frightened. His eyes were wide; his heart was beating fast. He sweated and tears began to stream down his cheeks. Damien just continued to walk back and forth, and watched his father weep.
"Please. Please. I beg of you,"
"Trust me Pops. I?m doing you a favor. Someone should have done about 20 years ago," Damien replied coldly. Charlie looked down and saw a perfectly straight line marked on his chest. His coffee table had towels, and a peculiar smooth gray stone about the size of a fist sitting upon it. Charlie?s heart began to beat faster. Charlie felt like it was going to explode right through his chest cavity. Sweat and tears were streaming down his face. Damien watched his father squirm in the ropes, and smiled his odd smile with his exceptionally white teeth showing. He sauntered toward Charlie with the scalpel in his right hand. He was at Damien?s mercy. Charlie shifted in his ropes. Damien approached him slowly and started to make an incision on the straight line on Charlie?s chest. Charlie immediately blacked out at the site of his own blood dripping down his body.
Charlie awakened to find himself still strapped to his wall still. He looked over toward the coffee table expecting to see the same rock sitting upon it, but instead saw what looked like a human heart and blood stained towels. Charlie?s face turned pallid, and a horrified look took over his face. He looked down at his blood stained shirt. An overwhelming feeling of sickness, and pain came over his body. Total remorse, guilt, and regret took over his entire body. He just wanted to die. He squirmed in his ropes feeling physical pain as well as mental anguish. He began to sob, and talk incoherently. He begged, he pleaded for Damien to help him. Damien just watched his father suffer as he ate a bowl of cereal in the kitchen. His tear-stained face looked like he was he going to be sick while Damien?s face had no emotion on his face. He didn?t seem to care.
"Pops, I want you to go on living with this feeling. Then maybe you?ll know what you?ve done. How you?ve wasted your entire selfish life treating people like shit. Not helping anyone but yourself. I want you to suffer, Pops," he said as he ate his cereal. Damien said the word "Pops" like he was saying an everyday thing, instead of telling Charlie his life was going to be nothing but utter pain and torment.
"Damien please, make it stop. It hurts. It hurts. Please, " he sobbed and pleaded. His voice sounded like a small child as he begged for compassion.
"Sorry, Pops. I can?t do that," Damien replied with little concern, "I just want you to know how you make people feel everyday. Maybe not with such intensity, but you make them feel this way and I think you deserve this. All these feeling are what you gave people over a course of 46 years,"
"Please, I know what I?ve done,"
"Nope, sorry," Charlie just continued to cry as Damien told him his inevitable future. Damien got up from his chair, and untied his father. Charlie?s large body fell to the floor. Charlie continued to writhe in agony on the floor.
"Here Pops. I?m offering you a way out," Damien said as he handed Charlie a 9mm he had taken out of his briefcase. Charlie shaking hand reached toward the gun. Damien let it go, and the gun rattled in Charlie?s hand. Charlie slowly put it up to his sweaty temple. He breathed heavily. All he wanted to do was ease his suffering with the only way possible, death. Charlie?s hand shook as he pulled the trigger. With one gunshot, his suffering was over. His body fell into his own bloody puddle on the floor. The blood slowly seeped toward Damien?s shiny black shoe. He packed up his things in his briefcase. Damien stood there over his deceased father. A satisfied smile stretched across his face showing his white teeth. Damien fixed his hair, straightened his glasses and walked out the door to the city streets below with a large content grin on his face after completing another day?s work.
