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ZERO: The Odd One Out
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IN THE DEAD OF THE NIGHT, six friendsβwho each felt like they have known one another for a lifetimeβguffaw and chuckle as they bask in the moonlightβs glow. The moonlight spilled onto their faces through the rickety and old window of the familiar classroom. Two of them joked around. One of them whined about going home. Two of them talked too loud. One almost passed out.
The Alcohol Junkie
The Whining Thespian
The Bibliophile
The Know-It-All
The Class President
And The Bestfriend
Each one of them takes another sip from their cups. The Alcohol Junkie tells another joke and they all laugh out loud, laughing as if itβs their last.
They take another sip, the warm liquid from the cup spreading warmth through their spines. The nightβs splendor is beautiful in the Junkieβs eyes; the silence is deafening in the Thespianβs ears; the alcoholβs effect curled the Bibliophileβs skin; the drink gagged the Know-It-Allβs throat; the laughs of the group replayed in the Presidentβs mind; and the thought of them being alone made the Bestfriend shudder.
The group took one last sip. Their collective laughter shunned out the radio silence of the cold August night. They are all guilty; their present senses of happiness compensated for the inner screams of their conscience. Yet, one of them is more guilty than the rest.
A wrong yearns to be righted. An unjust deserves to be convicted. The sinners must pay, and the price must be blood.
One of them is going to die tonight.
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