Echoes Of An Oversoul--Part 49

DoctorOversoul By DoctorOversoul, 4th Jul 2011 | Follow this author | RSS Feed | Short URL
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>True Stories

I felt a sudden awful chill. My entire body seemed devoid of flesh and blood...that dreadful experience seemed to have lasted an eternity. This is a dynamic chapter that's guaranteed to have your nerves jumping.

Echoes Of An Oversoul--Part 49

TANK HAD CLEVELAND in a choke hold. Cleveland began to gag and gasp for air. He tried to fight back by kicking and scratching, but it became obvious at this point that his resistance was futile. Tank’s massive arms were locked tightly aroundCleveland’s neck, and the more Cleveland resisted and struggled to remain in the land of the living, the more pressure Tank added.
I got up, rushed to the middle of the room, stood there and watched in horror. Moments later, my body felt paralyzed–probably because I was flabbergasted. My nerves gripped me tightly as if I was caught in a winch. In that state of shock, you couldn’t get a word out of me–even if you paid me.
Suddenly, Ceveland’s eyeballs began rolling upward, making their way to the back of his head. All that could be seen now was the whiteness. No iris. No pupils. Finally, Tank released his grip, and Cleveland’s body crumpled like a rag doll as he slumped down and hit the floor with a thud. Surely this was a nightmare come true.
“Let’s move ittt!” Tank’s voice trailed off, “We gotta’ finish this job and get the hell outa’ here.”
“But…but…damn…is he…why?” I was stuck on broken words. I tried to take a step, but as though my feet were gigantic millstones, I couldn’t lift them up. I was too shocked to react. All I could do was stand and stare like someone watching a horror movie. I was shocked almost out of my wits.
Tank became furious. He made a sudden leap forward, grabbed me by the lapels of my shirt, and slapped me twice across my face. Then he reached into his pants pocket, drew out a switch blade knife and growled, “Homey, I’ll skin you alive right where you stand if you don’t come to your senses!” His teeth were clenched, and intense seriousness was written across his face.
Don’t let him punk you, fight back! The thought exploded in my head. You’re a fighter, disarm the crazy fool! No, I retorted against my voice, he’s a fighter too! A hardheaded fool who without a doubt will force me to kill him or, vice-versa, he might end up killing me. Well, do something fool!
“The man ain’t dead, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he continued, but this time with a less threatening tone of voice. “I just put ‘em to sleep, you dig? Now come, let’s tie ‘em up befo’ he wakes up.”
He didn’t have to tell me twice. When he raised the shiny knife inches away from my neck, I knew that that was a moment of life or death. Had I not obeyed his command, and somehow mustered the courage to make a move, there’s no doubt in my mind that one of us would have met our demise. Violence was what he did best. The last guy who called his bluff, as I vividly recall, suffered an onslaught. As that poor guy lay on the ground, bleeding profusely, Tank stood on top of him, grinning in a wicked, almost maddening way. He reveled at the sight of blood.
With swift speed we moved Cleveland’s body from the living room into the bedroom. Then, as we began tying up his hands and feet, my mind raced madly, and my throbbing heartbeat felt like it was going to pump its way out of my chest. Oh, God, have I been lied to? Is this guy really sleeping? What the hell is going on? I was utterly confused. I couldn’t seem to understand howCleveland could still be asleep after having roughly moved his body from the living room into the bedroom.
“Are you sure he’s just sleeping?” feeling a need for assurance I nervously asked, ’cause deep down inside I knew something wasn’t plausible.
There was a brief moment of pause before he answered and, like usual, the tone was threatening, “Homey, I already told you. I’m not gonna’ tell you again. You think this is a joke? Try and ask me that same dumb question again, and see what happens!”
I didn’t dare ask him another question. Instead, I became panic-stricken, and felt like a zombie; like another person had taken over my body. I felt like my soul had suddenly exited my body, and my only purpose at this point was to listen for commands and act. I felt devoid of free-will–like an automaton.
“Get me the duct-tape!” he shouted out the command, the coldness in his eyes became chilling as he stared at me. Anything he said at this point went unheard as panic and fear filled my being. I realized a smugness about him; a smugness borne of ignorance. He tends to get to a state past knowing what he’s doing whenever he’s caught up in the blood-rush of the moment. My conclusion about him was that he’s completely mad.
I obeyed his command by handing him the duct-tape. He swiftly ripped off a piece and placed it on Cleveland’s mouth. After that, he helped me pack my belongings, and then on our way out the door he grabbed Cleveland’s cellphone, valise, and some whatnot…

It was now the wee hours of Sunday morning when we boarded a train heading to Manhattan. Once there, we checked ourselves into the Covenant House youth shelter, on Forty-First Street. Tank and I, on separate occasions, had been in that shelter. So because they already knew us, and still had our files, checking in only took a few minutes.
Within moments after we were assigned a room, Tank fell asleep and began snoring. As for me, I lay there on the small shoddy bed and felt a sudden awful chill. My entire body seemed to be without flesh and blood. I don’t think I had ever felt so cold. I tried to stop myself from shivering in vain. So in despair, I let my mind wander. I’ve seen and done many things, but nothing compared to what just occurred a few hours ago. That dreadful experience seemed to have lasted an eternity.
My God, why am I feeling like this? The question exploded in my mind. What have I done? What madness had I gotten myself into? Why me? Why?
As those thoughts paraded in my head, I yielded to a sudden outburst of emotion and began to weep–hysterical sobs of panic, which sounded more like laughter than grief. I still can’t remember to this day whether or not I managed to fall asleep.

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