psychotic


#1

the guy was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. out of the corner of my eye i can already see something fishy about him. a scream; a lady falls to the floor; he bolts across the bridge in the direction of Flinders Street. the strap of that purse he just snatched flails wildly as he pushes his way through the street. easy, i think.

the way’s already clear for me as i make my way. barely 5 seconds later i’ve closed the distance, throw myself at him and wrestle him to the ground. i manage to get on top; he tries to push me away, but i anticipate the trajectory of his shove. the first blow to his temple takes most of his strength away.

my fists are sticky by the time i realize what i’m doing. my left hand was always the weaker, and it finally gave in. just a split second passes; i get up, as though to keep my thoughts from catching up with my actions. i grab him by the collar. i fumble… he’s barely conscious, and bloody everywhere. i let go, disgusted at the thought of pulling him any distance while looking at that face. i stand… think for a split second, and, as though resorting to my last option, pick him up by the right ankle.

i’m not sure what everyone was thinking. no screams… faint murmurs maybe. everyone kept his distance. i suddenly realized how cold it was, that the sweat i just worked up would leave me shivering in a short while. i couldn’t see their faces. i looked above, below… out to the river just to the left of the nearby bridge. the sky was clear and the water seemed to be calling me.

i couldn’t have dragged his body more than five meters, but there we were, back on that bridge. i picked him up by the collar and propped him up on a concrete post. it was tricky getting him higher, and in the end i wrapped an arm around one of his legs at the groin to get some elevation. as far as balancing acts go he went up pretty smoothly… i was slightly impressed at how my efficiency left little room for theatrics, and how that made it all the more theatrical. there wasn’t anything surprising or dramatic about the splash as his body hit the water.

clockwork, i thought. except for the dozen or so men women and children staring at me, there was little else that could’ve gone better. i was tired… Flinders Street Station was the fastest way home, but for the moment, a short walk through Swanston or Russell was tempting. ten seconds into my stroll i wonder what happened to that purse this guy snatched just now.