Growing up in Boston was fun for Joe because he loved to ride the subway and stand in the front car watching the tracks rolling by; a simple pleasure that only cost a dime. He grew to be a man and fell in love, but she turned out to be a cheat. He did what he thought he should to be a man. But after he had done the deed, Joe cried to God, “I can’t live without her.”
He reached into the pocket of his tweed jacket that she loved him to wear and whenever he did, she’d rub her hand up and down the rough texture and that somehow excited her so much that she’d suddenly melt into his arms.
That would never happen again he thought as he yanked a .32 from a pocket, put the barrel into his mouth, and tasted the cleaning oil, his shaking hand rattling the barrel against his teeth.
Memories of Sylvia flashed before his eyes, and they caused his finger to tighten on the trigger. In his vision, he saw rain falling from her blazing blue eyes floating in the night sky. He wondered if her tears would wash his blood away.
He squeezed the trigger in slow motion, pulling the hammer back until it released. Joe gagged as the hammer fell because he knew the time to die had come.
Visions of her beautiful heart-shaped face shattered as the hammer clicked onto an empty place. He saw in his mind a picture of her on the ground with blood streaming from a hole between her eyes and other wounds made by him.
Stupid woman, it was her fault he’d shot her six times, and now he couldn’t take his own life with an empty gun. He’d do it without one. Joe ran to a nearby subway entrance and rushed down the stairs, and her accusing eyes followed him below ground.
A train came screeching down the tracks and he knew it wouldn’t stop. Joe jumped onto the tracks and lay across them. The train roared over him scattering sparks and ozone. He felt insufferable pain as the wheels rolled over him, but all his limbs were intact as the roar of the train diminished as it rolled on down the tracks.
Sitting up Joe saw hovering eyes glowing deep in the tunnel. They were hers and she had caused the train to roll painfully, but harmlessly over him. His eyes fixated on the third rail. It carried high voltage electricity. He’d show her, that damn woman who wanted him to live, so that he would continually endure pain for what he had done to her.
Her eyes said he was hopeless. He didn’t think so. Joe gripped the third rail in his right hand reached out and touched another rail with his left. Sparks jumped and went from his hand to his head to his balls. He wet his pants and died. She was waiting for him on the other side.
“I wanted you alive,” she said, “to make you suffer, but now that you’re dead, your soul has been put under my care. So my love, what I want you to do is lay on the tracks both night and day until you’ve been run over by a million trains.”
Though dead, Joe grabbed the third rail once again, and then touched her with his other hand. Sparks flew, she glowed brightly and then disappeared. His heart started to beat once again. Revived, Joe lived to tell his tale, and repeats it over and over to any who will listen.
Her eyes are always there watching and reminding him of what he had done, causing him pain. He knows it’s better to be alive than to die and suffer from getting run over by a million trains, so taking his life is not a choice. But for the rest of his life he’ll keep suffering because he’ll always wonders if she’ll make him get run over by more than a million subway trains after he dies.