Complete the short story/flash fiction, that has the following opening:
Is it wrong to want someone to die?
It’s been six months, seventeen days, four hours and a handful of minutes since the bank robbery went south and the getaway car crashed into a group of people waiting in line at a movie theatre. My family was in line waiting for me. I was running late, a last minute emergency at work kept me there longer than expected, but I left in plenty of time to get to the movie theatre.
But not in time.
I mean, under normal circumstances I would have been their in plenty of time to buy popcorn and drinks for the family and even catch the previews of upcoming films. But this was hardly normal. By the time I arrived the bank robbers were arrested, or dead, and the casualty count was growing.
Nine adults and three kids.
And that’s where it stopped. My family were the last of the dead. My heart broke that day and a little part of my soul shriveled up and died as well. I became a hollow representation of man, an automaton moving through life but not living life. My friends and family have tried to help, but they don’t understand how important my family is … was … to me and how I lived my life through them.
And here I sit in the courtroom, waiting for the verdict for the robbers. I sit here, thinking about what might have been, what should have been, and the wall of ice that had grown around my heart began to thaw. The heat of my pain, of my anger, soon melted that wall and a burning flame took its place.
I may not be able to live my life through my family, but I could make sure that the men who killed my family didn’t live either.
Finally, something to live, or die for.
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