12/16/18, 8:47 PM
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They're gone. Pretty sure they were just a couple of guys who needed to take a piss, but I gotta play it safe.
Where was I... the bomb. The catalyst for the situation I'm in now.
I wasn't able to get any sleep that night- I was tossing and turning, sometimes seeing hallucations of my death playing out different ways... would he truly "slice me and dice me", as he said, or would he use a gun?
Two hours later, at six, I decided to just give up on sleep and make the bomb. As I'm not trying to get into even more trouble with the cops than I am now (it has to do with the bomb), I won't list instructions on how to make one. Find that out yourself.
There's a 24-hour Home Depot near where I live, so I headed over and picked up the supplies. All the while shopping, I got the sense that I was being watched. Not the usual paranoia you get from the dangling security cameras in your face, but every time I turned around I saw an employee glancing away from me. Could they know I wasn't planning to return the money, and have hired Home- never mind, I said. I hightailed it out of there, having spent over $600 on the equipment.
Skip the bomb-making part- I realised I needed something to trip the fuse when Beta and his minders walked in my house. Again, I'm not trying to get extra charges tacked onto my sentence if I'm ever arrested, so I will skip this part. Suffice it to say it was surprisingly easy to do. Only problem... I couldn't leave my house either. That door was the only way out, except for the fire escape, which had a fifteen foot drop at the bottom. I steeled my nerves, realising that it was better to have a couple injured limbs than to have a few dismembered ones.
I experienced a moment of short-lived nostalgia, remembering all the events that had happened in that little flat. Deflowering my ex-girlfriend, accidentally setting off the over-sensitive smoke detector due to my rather frequent cannabis habit.... Believe me, leaving was hard. It really was, but I remembered what would happen if I stayed. I didn't want my last memory of the place to be watching a knife swinging towards my throat.
I returned to the laptop's resting place and tenderly packed it and the now-empty money drive in my old rucksack, which was a far cry from the $4,000 Louis Vuitton home it had once lived in. I decided to leave my shit old Dell clunker back at the flat, since who knows if they had hacked it and were tracing it?
At that moment I realised I had no plans for my escape. Feeling defeated, I sat on my old couch until a thought hit me- where do you hear about all those criminals going to hide out and launder money post factum? The Carribbean! If it was good enough for criminals, I figured it was good enough for me.
Invigorated, I pulled out my condemned Dell and immediately bought a ticket to Dominica, a place known for its lax immigration laws and lack of income tax or reporting. That made it a mecca for money launderers and criminals on the lam, something I would soon be. Well, I'd be a criminal as soon as I blew Beta into subatomic bits.
Since I had drained my bank account the week prior, I resorted to using the stolen drug money to pay for the ticket. Bitcoin was anonymous after all, and couldn't be traced back to me. Right?
No. That transaction had alerted them to the fact I had bought a plane ticket, where the plane was headed... and who was on it.
I didn't know it at the time, but that ticket had sealed my fate. (I'm still using it to fly, and I'm praying on the hourly for a miracle from God that will allow me to leave without harm.)
The plane was set to leave in four days time, meaning Beta would be dead for one day before the plane left to take me to the place I would live out the rest of my days in peace. I couldn't let this go to shit.
Alright, skip three days. I had (checking my knockoff Rolex) seven hours until Beta's ultimatum came to fruition. I didn't know how long it would take him or his shooters to get to my house, but considering the speed with which they delivered that threat, I wasn't going to take any chances.
I spent those last seven hours praying, which I hadn't done in years up to that point.
*BANG*
Sure enough, someone was knocking at my door. I tentatively asked who it was (knowing full well that it was Beta). No one answered, though I heard the sounds of... whimpering? Dismissing the thought, I geared up to run out the fire escape and to freedom.
In the one split second before the door bomb went off, I saw a young man, about my age, sweating himself dry and carrying an expression that looked like a mixture of empathy and fear towards me. He was flanked by two tall, burly men who must have been minders.
"PLEASE HELP-"
BOOM!
I heard ringing in my ears. Sure enough, the bomb had done its job. I didn't stay around to wait for the cops to show up. I dashed out that fire escape and down into the road. I knew the way to O'Hare by heart, since my parents always used to take me there and lament over the fact that we couldn't afford nice vacations. I lived somewhat close by to my childhood home.
I might've looked a wee bit suspicious as I burst into the airport with just a ticket in hand and a knapsack on my shoulder. I accidentally pushed a few old ladies over in my hurry to get to the ticket counter.
They stamped my ticket, and it was off to Dominica. Or, so I thought.
I headed down to security. Shit! The bomb shrapnel! Oh lord, they're sure going to get me for this. I'll get locked up for the rest of my life in prison on terrorism charges, and one of Beta's bereaved friends can call in there to have someone shank me.
By some trick of God, I made it through security... and oh, shit, I think I see security now. Gotta go
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