A Piece of Candy

Down the street was a candy store, owned by a certain Mister Alexander.

A mischievous kid stole a piece of candy from the store, he thought himself sneaky but as he neared the exit, Mr Alexander gave chase.

 The kid, running with all of his might, crossed the busy street and so did Mr Alexander.

 A loud crash. Horns and screams.

The kid stopped briefly, looking at the bloody mess on the road. Mr Alexander's dying breath was spent exhaling hatred, his gaze cursing the boy.

 Truthfully, I wasn't a bad kid. A lost bet, for a piece of candy worth no more than a buck. Still Mr Alexander has never left my side since that day.

 It's been 16 years. No matter where I go and no matter where I look, he's always there. One turn of my gaze away, peeking at me from every corner of my vision.

Lately things have been different. He's gotten bolder, appearing right in front of me, blocking my path. He's in the streets, at work, in the bus, in the metro.

He's in my house.

 

One. Single. Candy.

 

My prescription has reached its maximum dosage. Even when I double or triple it, there is no remedy.

And so I stand in my bathroom, knife in hand, ready to get rid of the pest of past mistakes.

I plunge the blade deep into my sockets. Self-enucleation. I am prepared, I have taken all appropriate steps.

 The darkness is warm, comforting, but most importantly the darkness is lonely, a feeling I've yearned for days gone.

 After finishing the procedure, I walk towards my room. The familiar corridors are no mystery.

 

My body recoils after hitting an obstacle. Something that shouldn't be there. Someone.

 

Mr Alexander.

After all this time.

Just for a buck, one piece of candy.