Cards for the prompt were: Empty theater, and police officer.
As a note, I don’t think all cops are bad, this was just where my mind went with the story. Though I do find it unfortunate that there are enough bad ones to give such a reputation. Would my brain have always concocted an empty theater as a punishment even if the character card had never been a police officer? It’s hard to say. (Probably though, I’m kind of a dick.)
Tim looked around, frowning. He was sitting in an empty theater. It looked like a normal movie theater, dimmed but not yet dark, with rows and rows of empty seats that stretched out unrealistically far. He stood, his mind racing as he tried to figure out where he was and how he had gotten there. He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember a damn thing. “Hello?” he called out, hearing his voice echo deep into the emptiness.
The lights went out, and there was strange humming sound, like the audio was being adjusted. He could see, far in the back, the distant light of the projector. He opened his mouth to call out again, when over the speakers came a familiar voice. “Tim?”
Tim felt himself break out into a cold sweat as he swung around to stare at the screen. He leaned forward against the empty chair in front of him, gripping the top tight, his knuckles white. It wasn’t just that he recognized the voice, but he recognized the moment for what it was. He watched the video as it played, shocked at how much it looked like it was taken directly from his point of view.
The camera turned from where it rested behind the steering wheel to look at Gary. His face was strangely illuminated in the red and blue flashing lights. “Maybe I should take this one,” Gary suggested, seeing something in Tim’s face.
Tim could remember that he shrugged in the moment. The vehicle they had pulled over belonged to his cousin. His cousin was a belligerent drunk and had been in jail before for selling drugs. He hated dealing with the man, but it had been obvious from the way the vehicle swerved and nearly took out the Stop sign it ignored that the driver was under the influence. So they had pulled his cousin over. He sighed. “Yeah, you take it,” he finally said, not wanting to deal with the man.
Gary nodded and hopped out, walking over to approach the vehicle. Routine traffic stop. He tapped on the driver side window, then looked suddenly startled, reaching for his weapon – there was the loud sound of a single gunshot, the shattering of glass – Tim watched as Gary’s head snapped back suddenly with a splatter of blood and brain. He watched the body crumpling to the ground. He could remember watching in shock as he heard the tires of the vehicle in front of him peel out as his cousin slammed the gas.
His cousin lost control of the vehicle almost immediately, swerving into a nearby building. Tim could hear his own panic filled voice shouting into his radio, calling “Officer down! Officer down!” He watched as the POV moved out of the cop car and toward his partner, caught a glimpse of the thing that haunted his nightmares sometimes still – the sight of Gary’s disfigured face, blown apart, bleeding.
The video froze on that image. Tim felt sick, like he had in that moment. He had to fight to keep from throwing up.
“What the fuck is this?” he shouted.
The video rewound, going back to where it had started. “Tim?”
“No,” Tim said. He ran along the row of seats, wanting to find the exit. But it was like the seats stretched endlessly. He ran, and out of the corner of his eye he could see that the image remained still directly in front of him, no matter how hard he ran to the side. He stopped, panting, and refused to watch as the screen focused on Gary’s ruined face.
He turned toward the projector light, far in the back. He climbed over the seat behind him. It was tedious and annoying, but he kept going, climbing over the next row of seats, and the next. But the projector never got closer, no matter how many seats he climbed over.
Turning around at the sound of the gunshot and his own panicked yells, he could see that the video hadn’t gotten any farther either.
“What the fuck is this?!” he screamed again, collapsing into a chair, tired and confused.
“Tim?” he heard Gary’s voice say again, echoing around him in the darkened theater. He remembered the moment so clearly. He had sent Gary to his death just because he hadn’t wanted to deal with his shitty cousin. It had eaten up with guilt his whole life, and now it played out in front of him, again and again. Tim dropped his head into his hands and sobbed.
********
The projectionist leaned forward, watching the reaction of Tim below. His assistant, a lesser demon, cleared its throat from behind him. “Sir, if I could ask a question?” it asked, seeming confused. The projectionist’s hooded visage turned toward the imp, and it gulped as it could see the glow of his eyes from deep in the hood. “If this human is meant to be punished here in Hell… why choose this moment to show him? Why not any of the things that got him sent here in the first place?”
The projectionist was silent for so long that the imp was certain it wasn’t going to get an answer. But then he spoke, his voice deep and raspy, barely above a whisper. “This human doesn’t regret his crimes. He never felt guilty for cheating on his wife. He never felt guilt for beating her. In his mind, she deserved it. He never felt guilty for abusing the power he had over people in his custody, for they were criminals and beneath him. He does not feel guilty for the one murder he committed, justifying it as a necessary act to save himself. He has always believed in his innocence and righteousness.” The hooded figure turned back to the empty theater, where Tim was now screaming profanities at anything that would listen. “But this, he regrets. He has nightmares of this. And he will see it forever.”
mehryment 