story: Whoso Diggeth a Pit
Title: Whoso Diggeth a Pit
Author:
aja_evenstar
Rating/Warning: PG probably. Violence, mature themes
Summary: You reap what you sew.
A.N.// This was my final folio for the prose class. Its not exactly what i handed in - i had to beef it up for the word count, but here i've stripped back everything i didn't want in it initially. So this is the final final version. I actually... ended up liking this story quite a bit. I'm sure in time i'll look back on it and think its horribly written, but for now, i think its pretty good.
The first time Gabriel learns of how the world works, he is six and being chased around the playground by Ashley, his classmate. She cries for him to return her beloved doll, but rather than adhere to her wishes, he continues to race around in circles, cackling wildly. Eventually he stops, drops the figurine to the ground and listens to the satisfying crunch beneath his shoe. That afternoon, he arrives home to have his mother hesitantly show him his favourite toy in two pieces because of the family dog.
When Gabriel is eleven, he finds a magnifying glass while curiously rummaging around in his father’s drawers. That afternoon is spent in the front garden, sizzling ants for pleasure. With a gleeful grin, the youth is so lost in his games that he returns inside hours later with an aggressive sunburn all over his once-porcelain skin. As an adult, there are still small scars that can be seen in the reflection of fluorescent light.
Gabriel grows up to be an accountant. He trains and studies and strives during his years at school and university, his mind bent on success. Without many friends, he is able to focus solely on his future without distraction. Dedication and perseverance shape the formula to which he lives, and it pays off. By the time Gabriel is an adult, the world is in his favour.
He builds a reputation fast, outgrowing the many firms he’s worked in, and establishing his own. Within a year he’s doubling the salary he’d previously received. Reliable and resourceful, he is in his customers’ best interests. However, he learns quickly that his combination of cunning and aptitude are a natural formula for personal gain. His clients are some of the wealthiest businessmen in town, and it doesn’t take him long to commandeer their prosperity.
Gabriel buys a few hundred thousand dollars worth of stock, direct from the accounts of his clients. It’s a good year, it seems, and he doubles his profits swiftly. Doubt is a frequent visitor, but Gabriel makes sure to stay within the deserving boundary. He researches his clients, unveils their past and chooses his target. For a year, Mr Andrews forfeits his superannuation by keeping Gabriel as his personal accountant.
Mr Andrews is a prominent businessman in the community. His reputation has not been tarnished by the past he’s so successfully cloaked. He now lives a decent life, balanced between honesty and profit. When it comes to his capability, Gabriel is more than just an accountant, and he finds the weak points in Mr Andrews’ clandestine history.
The mining business is large and lucrative. Over the last six months, there has been a rise in revenue, and Mr Andrews is swelling with excitement over the prospect of an early retirement. Age is beginning to catch up at an accelerating rate, and although an active entrepreneur through and through, withdrawal from the business world is becoming ever more appealing.
Up late one night, fingers buzzing, he investigates his personal superannuation to guarantee his eligibility. There is, in actuality, no doubt in his mind; however he greedily desires the satisfaction of seeing such a sum before his eyes.
Gabriel wakes the following morning to learn of the stock market’s dramatic fall overnight. He quickly does the math and discovers that he’s lost everything he ever took from Mr Andrews, including the money he was legally paid. Gabriel has nothing but the roof over his head, and soon enough not even that will be certain. His quick mind is numbed and unable to think up a plan, and before his shock is given time to subside, there’s a violent hammering on the door to his suite. He opens it to find a flaming Mr Andrews, who barges in forcefully. There’s a moment of confusion, Gabriel is knocked back by a deliberate blow to the chest, pinned to the wall by a powerful, thick hand as the little breath still in him is driven out. There is the painful sensation of something digging against his side, and the sound of a metallic click. Mr Andrews’ blue eyes are so pale that there’s barely any colour to be seen.
Gabriel’s fingertips are tingling and he suspects his muscles are about to collapse in fear. His angular shoulder blades are aching against the wall as menacing words of revenge slip from Mr Andrews’ mouth. The elder man raises his hand from the accountant’s chest to his throat, cutting off air, and Gabriel starts flailing instantly for release. Legs kicking wildly, one makes contact with Mr Andres’ calf, and for an instant the man is weakened just long enough for the gun to be hijacked and twist around onto the assailant. The mad struggle lasts little more than five seconds, the two men grunting and straining, before Gabriel recoils against the explosion and Mr Andrews is bleeding out onto the polished wooden floor.
Immobilised with shock, Gabriel stares as the body becomes lifeless, watches as a dark red trail finds its way into the cracks between the floorboards. The viscous substance seeps towards the opposite wall due to a tilt in the ground previously unnoticed by Gabriel’s eyes. The tingling in his fingertips grows, and as the sensations spreads across the nerves in his body, Gabriel realises that this time he is going to fall. The ground catches him hard and his knees are most likely bruising right away from impact, but his eyes haven’t left the suited man before him. The body is twisted unnaturally. The man’s head sits on its side, his eyes wide and mouth agape; blood has begun to line the body as well. Or perhaps it’s oozing from his mouth - at this angle it’s difficult to tell.
It occurs to Gabriel that this may not be the ideal place to leave a body, and finally, his mind begins to whir with solutions. Other than the shallow knowledge television can offer, Gabriel doesn’t know the first thing about handling a corpse, but he does the best he can with two hands. It’s an hour before he’s processed enough thoughts to drag the late Mr Andrews into his walk-in closet and begin cleaning the blood he haphazardly trailed across the apartment in his search for a storage place. There aren’t any suitable cleaning products under the sinks of either the bathroom or kitchen, so Gabriel makes do with what he has, sloppily cleaning in a haze. It becomes apparent after a few minutes that the floorboards are stained.
Gabriel forgets to wear gloves so he heads to the bathroom to erase the sin from his skin. Red runs across the flawlessly white, ceramic sink, and his head takes a spin. Gripping the towel rack for support, the red stains his vision, and wherever he turns his eyes, his sight is splotched scarlet. The composure that has remained up until this point begins to dissipate, and recognition of the path he has just carved himself sets up. Staggering out, he manages to find the couch and collapses onto his side, the cream walls covered in a crimson sheen. Looking down at the floor, the stained floorboards are invisible under his skewed sight.
His body is still shaking too hard and his heart beating too fast. His heart feels constricted under his ribcage, the bones tightening as time passes, closing in. Even with eyes closed and the living room temporarily gone, it’s impossible to escape the sensations racing around inside. Gabriel feels his body is in flames, preparing for damnation. Air cannot enter the windpipe deeply enough, as if his lungs are shrinking, shrivelling. It pressures his heart to keep his alive, pumping the only oxygen able to reach the bloodstream erratically. Everything feels as if it’s running out of sync; Gabriel’s entire body seems knocked out of collaboration - each organ working for itself. The room darkens, shadows crawling across the floor and up the walls as the sun recedes, and an eerie glow lights the strip of bedroom visible through the door slightly-ajar. Gabriel tries to keep his eyes averted - away from his room and his closet. He instead stares at the fluorescent clock, watching minutes tick by, his heartbeat faster than time.
Gabriel eventually reaches sleep, his hand pressed hard against his suffocating chest.
The next morning, time is still passing, but Gabriel’s heart is still.