SlamFiction: Ron Stone- Part 2

Welcome to the second ever installment of SlamFiction. Once again, this will be my (hopefully) weekly serialized story. Currently I am posting the short story of Veronica "Ron" Stone. I highly recommend that you read these in order, because if you don't, well... you might not get the full effect. I am hoping to have enough of a buffer that I will be able to get a new "Chapter" out every Saturday at noon local time. (I'm in the Eastern US... so, do the math to figure out when they will post in your area.)

Once again thanks go out to @CWriter80 on Twitter for providing the inspiration for this series.

Check out the previous entry HERE!

Story Continues after the Jump.

I think it goes without saying, that I missed my bus out of town. With a hysterical cabbie and a dead guy using your lap as a pillow, catching the bus just doesn't happen. The cops wasted no time getting to the scene, but I hardly noticed. All I knew was that the city had managed to tighten its grip on me, and I was stuck here for a little while longer.

One would think that my mind at that point would be focused on the dead man in my lap, but from the moment I walked out my door that morning, the world had just seemed unreal. Less reality and more like a really vivid dream. My first thought when the guy died in my lap was, “I wish I hadn't left my camera in the back with my clothes.”

Blood pooled in my lap, and a detached sort of calm filled me. I knew that at any moment I would wake up and this bizarre dream would end. I sat there, expressionless as the officers questioned the cabbie. It barely even registered when they helped me out of the car, or when the EMTs took away the dead man. I barely even remember answering the officer's questions. Nothing mattered. Time meant nothing. I couldn't tell you if the cops were asking me questions for 3 minutes or 3 hours.

Eventually, one of the cops drove me back to my apartment in the cheap section of Alphabet City, and told me to call him if I remembered anything else. As soon as the door closed behind him, reality came crashing back on me and I fell to my knees, crying hysterically. I looked down at my hands, and tried to scrub them clean on my pants, only to realize that the blood was there too. In a mad frenzy I began discarding layers of clothing, until all the bloody horror lay crumpled on the floor. Then with the tears still falling, I ran to the bathroom, and surrendered the meager breakfast I had that morning.

With my stomach purged, I crawled to the shower, and sat there amid the questionable stains, hugging my knees until long after the hot water had turned icy.  

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