Do For Love

Do For Love

By John Riccobono

So many different types of people walked in and out of those bank doors
every single day of the week, all with their own personal problems, for
some their kid's are getting in trouble in school, others have had some
problems with their landlords, even a few in trouble with the law.
Everybody's different, everybody making their way through life some
trying to live an honest one others choosing an alternate route. The
bank in this town was a sanctum for everyday nobodies just as every
other bank in every other town. Hardworking drones trying to give to
their families what had been given to them, putting in long days and
long nights to make some money to be trusted into the bank.
That's the thing that makes banks so dangerous. So much heart and sweat
are poured into the dollars that are protected by these banks creating
a potential watering hole for the tougher side of life. The type of
person that never had a good life at home, forced to make their way on
the streets. To live a life without love, like puppets of the devil in
the form of drugs, alcohol and poverty. Waking up one morning looking
in your pockets to see nothing in their looking back at you. Hungary,
tired, desperate with one thing weighing heavy on your mind. The fact
that some how the devil made his way tucked tightly into your raggedy
old belt this time in the form of a weapon. Living with these devils
often leads you to the devil. Of course you owned a weapon because
living the life of a strung out druggie requires such security. Without
it you would lose your mind. And with it you would lose your mind
faster, but unfortunately you are left with little choice. The streets
become a game, and like any game there are rules. Sometimes you can
break the rules and get away with it, other times you pay the price.
Eventually everyone who plays this game ends up losing no matter what.
Eventually, the game breaks you down; the streets become a blood
lusting monster yearning for a taste of your insanity. These punishing
streets that so many troubled souls get lost can mischievously make a
man blindly choose the wrong path. It's a well-known fact that when
most of these blinded street junkies finally taste their last breath,
is when love is tampered with.
These people don't realize the only weapon to fight off that vicious
tyrant living in the street is love. It's one of the best-kept secrets
of life. Love is the key that could get you out of any locked door that
life puts you behind. So when one tampers with love, completely tossing
the only key down the sewer is when the walls within that locked door
get tighter and tighter and eventually squeeze the hope out of you like
a boa constrictor crushing its prey.

* * * * * * * * * * *

July 7th

The site of his veins looking as though they were desperately screaming
and agonizing to escape the entrapment of his pale flesh struck his
heart like poisonous dart shooting from across the way. Escape. Just
some sort of escape was all he pleaded with his soul for. Just a few
more kisses from the needle and things will be okay again.
Ever since his mother died when he was younger, he would find time in
between ducking and hiding from his abusive drunkard of a father to
utilize narcotics constantly referring to them as an 'escape.' Sure
things were still horrible when he would come back from his little
4-hour vacations, but for those couple of hours things finally seemed
to calm down.
Things were always bad, but on this day was when things completely
changed. On this dark, relentlessly demoralizing day is when morbid
shady thoughts exploded into the deepest, blackest, most ruthless
truths. He committed a robbery of the most extreme wickedness. He
solemnly stole the lives of two innocent teenagers whose only crime was
loving each other. All he wanted was some money and maybe a little sex
from that 17-year-old girl. Of course she didn't want anything of the
sort but that never really bothered him. He had pulled up to them as
they were parked by this small lake where many times young hormone
crazed teenagers would go to entertain their feelings. With his gun in
hand and his mind somewhere far off, he politely asked for her pocket
book and his wallet. Escape money. Just need some escape money. He was
deranged there's no doubt about that. The boyfriend was too scared
stiff to try and put a stop to the pistol toting rapist doing his very
worst as he forcefully stole the young girl's innocence. Her screams
were music to his ears.
When the struggle was over, after many tears lost, and some blood even
spilled, the gunman stood up peering over his work. He had his money (a
cool 14 dollars between the two of them) and he had two frightened to
death little 17 year olds in front of him. Why he did what he did next,
it will never be known. In the eyes of a ruthless cold-blooded
predator, decisions are often hazy and twisted. He pulled out his
pistol and put it directly up against the boy's head. Giant beads of
sweat streamed down his forehead as he gasped for breathes of air. He
then looked over to his bride. The gunman's smooth calm demeanor
quickly changed as the hate grew in his heart. He hated these two
people. He hated them for having what he never could have. He rapidly
jerked the gun from the boy's head and pushed it directly against the
girl's. The girl, completely frozen in shock did not even scream. She
saw the evil in his eyes and knew what was about to happen. She slowly
turned her eyes to her boyfriend. With her last horrified ounce of
might, she opened her soft sweet lips and softly muttered,
"I love you."
From far off the sound of two gunshots was heard.

* * * * * * * * * * *

August 17th

After returning from his home to take care of some personal business, a
saddened man reveals a slight smirk after taking notice of the
front-page story of the previous day's happenings.

* * * * * * * * * * *

August 16th

Travis Deaton, dressed in a slick navy blue business suite and matching
tie, looked at his watch and realized he only had another half hour to
get to the bank to deposit the morning's earnings. He was a tall,
handsome man of great wealth with an English accent that many women
found to be increasingly attractive. Women would fall for him
instantly, something about his eyes, some sort of irresistible
influence. Travis had eyes for only one woman though. He was a unique
businessman, and a successful one at that. He had felt deep feelings
for one of the bank tellers that worked there that he liked to hop in
on from time to time. His eased pace quickly turned into a moderate
speed walk in an effort to get to the bank on time. If only he knew who
was behind him, perhaps he would never have entered that bank but
unknowingly continued on running his errand.
There was somewhat of a long line which made Travis decision that day
a difficult one. The way things unfolded though left him with no choice
but to act. After all if such a thing happened to you, and you were
anything like Travis Deaton, what would you do? There is a lot of good
and evil in this world, and sometimes its tough to distinguish between
the two.
If there were any lesson to be learned that day, it would have to be
that things are often more than they seem. To one, the person behind
the counter is just an everyday bank teller, but to another that person
could be the most beautiful angel in the world. As you will see the
irony here is ridiculous. And even sometimes, there is even more to a
picture than that. Sometimes the truth behind the person can be a
beautiful one. We grow up everyday looking for love and that day we
find it is a magical one. Travis realized exactly this that day.
Perhaps if he went to a different teller, nobody would have ever seen
the truth that lies behind the eyes of Travis Deaton. But the second he
saw his dreams fall, he had no choice but to act.
The bank's transactions continued as they would on any other day on
this sunny summer after noon. The middle-aged woman in front of Travis
deposited her cash and slowly moved out of the way revealing an amazing
sight. Anything that was bouncing around Travis's mind at that
particular moment was quickly disrupted by the look of the teller's
eyes. She was a beautiful young girl probably around her twenties, with
the bluest eyes that he had ever encountered. One slight gaze sent
ripples down his spine and seemed to stun him. Just like every other
time, completely blown clueless by her gorgeously arresting gaze. Take
me now my temptress. Take me away from this place.
"Hi there, how can I help you today?" She immediately recognized him
and gave him a little smile. She looked into his eyes and maybe she too
had such immediate feelings for Travis. She would often act with the
slightest hint of flirt in her voice. She was a shy girl who never
really spoke great lengths to Travis, but her eyes spoke endless
conversations to his heart.
At first there was no response, Travis had to gain his composure for a
moment. He acted like a little schoolboy talking to a childhood crush
on the playground.
"Um, Hi how are ya?" His voice was somewhat jittery.
"I'm great thanks. What can I do for ya today?"
Again her cherubic looks froze Travis of any response. This type of
behavior is completely unheard of for Travis's kind. People like him
never fall in love. I guess it's just the ultimate power of love that
makes even the strangest of things happen.
Travis gave a quick peer behind him to see if the line was a long one.
He was searching out the possibility of a little small talk with his
new infatuation. Travis wasn't the most considerate person in the
world, but there was only one man behind him so he didn't see the harm
in a few minutes of chitchat. That same man who had followed him
in.
"Yeah, I would like to make a deposit."
"Okay no problem."
"Look at that, a beautiful day out today and a beautiful girl in front
of me."
"Those cheesy lines get me every time." She blushed and gave a little
giggle. "It was cute though."
Her approval did great lengths for his confidence.
"My name is Travis, I was-"
"Oh I love British accents!" she interrupted.
He blushed a little bit. "Why thank you. I was wondering if you could
tell me your name. Just a little curiosity, maybe sprinkled with some
flirt." He flashed her a smile.
"Okay Mr. Travis, my name's Sarah." She cleared her throat pointing at
her nametag. The slight embarrassment of never noticing the nametag
flustered him a little.
He regained himself and replied, "Sarah, that's a beautiful
name."
She smiled.
A slight pause as the two seemed to make a slight connection looking at
each other's eyes.
"What do ya say&;#8230; maybe ya know . . ." He was loosing his
cool, bitterly nervous.
"Are you asking me out already? Why don't you give me your money and we
can talk when the line dies down." The line had steadily grown within
the past few minutes.
Travis was overjoyed with her response. After all those fraudulent
missions to further pursue this relationship, completely paralyzed by
her beauty and his lack of experience in the lost art of
courtship.
"Yes, yes okay sounds like a plan to me." He smiled and handed her his
money. She deposited the cash and gave him his receipt. "Okay Travis,
why don't you come on back in around 20 minutes when I get off. You
seem harmless enough. Cheesy lines and all."
"Yes ma'am, I'll be back to keep you company. Maybe we can get some
coffee or something."
"Maybe we can, but go, I have customers."
He didn't even reply he just smiled and walked away. He wasn't used to
hitting on girls, but he seemed somewhat lucky to be in the position he
was in. As he was walking away he gave one last look back and caught
her eyes looking at him. What an amazing feeling he thought. This very
might well have been love at first sight.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Everyday is filled with moments. Some moments stand out above others.
Some moments can change everything. This next moment was one of those.
You hear about it on the news and even see it in movies but never think
it could happen to you. This very next second seemed to be in perfect
slow motion to Travis. It seemed as though hours had passed as he
watched the man who had been behind him slowly make motion deep into
his opposite inside breast pocket, feel around for a short moment, and
smoothly pull out the shape of a gun. Then proceeding to raise his arm
putting the barrel of the gun in direct line of sight with Sarah's
beautiful face. Nothing disturbed him more though, than the slight
clicking sound as the gun was readily cocked, armed, and at any moment
ready to blow apart anything in its sight. Even anything beautiful an
innocent within its sight.
The gunman with his weapon pointed at Sarah violently yelled at her,
"Put all the fucking money into a bag right fucking now! Empty the cash
register and I swear to God if anyone makes any fucking little move I
swear to God I will blow all your heads off! Let's do this fast and
easy folks, nobody's got to die today."
The bank immediately transformed from a respectable place of business
to a cage of trapped panic and horrid anticipation of what was going to
happen. All the women and children blurted out huge bellows of
frightful screams. For many it was the first time they had ever seen a
gun in person, and having it be one that is being waved in any which
direction caused great unease to all. This was a gun that had already
taken two lives at the hands of a madman. Fortunately this knowledge
had gone unseen by everyone, especially the younger folk. That thought
in itself could break a child.
The gunman seemed to have a mad look in his eyes. He wore raggedy jeans
and an overcoat where he had been concealing his weapon. It seemed
obvious by the look of his eyes that he was extremely coked up or
cracked out on some other drug or drugs. Just on another one of his
escapes. An extended vacation. Putting his freedom on the line for
tomorrow's escape money. Probably got desperate for some more drug
money and walked into a bank in the middle of the day time to score
some cash. But what happened in the next few minutes would go on to
cause everyone in that bank to question life and all its uncertainties.
Most would leave the place in shock never really understanding what
took place. Every last person to leave would never mention it to a soul
in fear of their lives and their fate.
Travis who was so fresh on the high of his beautiful temptress was
still standing, with all the other bystanders lying on their stomachs
behind him. He resembled a great General still standing strong with his
fallen army behind him.
The gunman glanced at Travis and roared, "Get the fuck on the ground,
what the fuck you think you doin'? I got my fucking finger wrapped
around this fucking firearm so do as you're told! I'm not gonna take
any shit so just drop. Did you hear what I said, faggot, drop!" He was
trying to intimidate him without having to act. His conscious was
already drenched with the guilt of two kids. He really didn't want to
have some business man on his mind on top of things. He didn't yet lose
touch of insanity after becoming overwhelmed with hate like he did with
those two kids. That commanding fire of hatred hadn't become a factor
just yet. Hatred spawned by jealousy.
Travis was relieved that the gun was no longer pointed at Sarah, he
didn't seem to worried that he was now in the direct line of sight.
Just as long as it wasn't her. He felt deep passionate feelings like no
other that were exploited when the thought of a gun being pointed at
Sarah sent fear through his veins. This entire sensation was completely
alien to him. With his nerves now calmed he slowly bent down to his
knees and eventually onto the ground.
"Smart move faggot." He turned again towards the register. His tone
was now a reasoning whisper, "Now listen to me, your gonna put all that
money into my bag real fucking fast or I'm gonna have to hurt some
people." He laughed to himself. He turned to the crowd, "OR I MIGHT
HAVE TO HURT SOME PEOPLE!" The crowd jumped. An elderly woman in the
corner did the sign of the cross and began to pray.
Sarah fumbled her way as she grabbed huge wads of money from the
register and threw them into the bag. She had thought of pressing the
silent alarm to contact the police but the perpetrator was staring
right at her with a gun aimed at her face. It's tough to make drastic
decisions held at gunpoint. Travis remained on the ground with the rest
of the people in the bank. Again sizing up his rival from the ground
seeing his love with a weapon pointed her way. Travis Deaton was a
brave person. At least truly chivalrous when love was on the
line.
"Come on, come on, come on. Hurry it up bitch, I ain't got all day."
He was getting nervous. His plot was taking a little longer than he had
hoped.
"I'm doing it, I'm doing it just don't hurt me please!" Her words were
muffled by tears.
Travis noticed some movement from the corner of his eye. A man lying
on the ground behind him was reaching for what appeared to be his own
gun. He was wearing a baseball cap that had a police shield on it
probably from some charity baseball game. Perhaps an off duty police
officer doing his best to be a hero. Don't do it, Travis thought. The
gunman was completely out of his mind and wasn't going to go down
quietly. Something just wasn't right. Don't do it, please don't do
it.
For a brief moment their eyes caught. The police officer gave Travis a
brief glance that said a thousand words in a single moment. Travis
returned with a look of his own that pleaded for the officer to remain
calm and just let the crime unfold without anyone getting hurt. Again
for a person like Travis, these thoughts were completely unknown.
Perhaps he was thinking of changing his way of life. Had it been any
other day he would never even have cared if everyone in the bank got
lit up, but on this day things were different. It must have been the
feelings that overwhelmed him only minutes earlier. Love is a truly
mysterious and uncontrollable miracle. It can lead to great things, and
it can lead to horrible things. Love changed Travis that day. His whole
ideology flipped and turned upside down. It's too bad his kind would
never accept his newfound feelings. A person like him couldn't ever
love, never had before. He was forever cursed to live his lifestyle.
But oh how good it felt to look deep into his Sarah's eyes. How could
this be happening to him?
The police officer made his move. In a swift movement he jumped to his
feet with his firearm pointed at the gunman.
"Freeze! Don't move a muscle!"
The gunman turned around and immediately pointed his weapon back at
the officer. There was a standoff with two grown men standing thirty
feet away from each other with both lives completely in the hands of
the other. Both men working things in their mind in perfect
anticipation like a chess match.
The officer again shouted, "Drop the weapon and you won't get hurt!
It's not too late! It doesn't have to end like this! Drop the weapon
now!"
Perhaps the officer didn't think the gunman had it in him to fire. He
didn't think he had the will to take a shot. He couldn't be more
wrong.
The gunman immediately unloaded two shots both striking the officer in
the chest. Bang! Bang! And like that the officer fell lifeless to the
ground like a rag doll, blood spilling all over the place. Checkmate.
Two young girls at home ages five and eight that would never see their
daddy again. Again the room was filled with the cries of men and women
now completely fearing for their own lives. Travis remained calm.
Travis wasn't like the other people. He was unique in that bank. As
long as Sarah wasn't in jeopardy, he had nothing to worry about it. He
was completely blinded by love. Nothing else mattered.
Sarah was now reduced to desperate tears. Travis's heart fell to the
ground. Something struck him deep inside, seeing Sarah crying. It
struck a cord causing a feeling that he had never felt before. Finally,
he felt some hostility towards the gunman.
"You see that? You see what happens to heroes? Now I fucking killed a
guy! What the fuck!" He was beginning to panic. It was clear that he
had no intentions of taking anyone's life that day. The situation
turned from a bad one, to a horrible one. "Give me the fuckin' money,
bitch!"
In the midst of all the horror, Sarah had managed to trigger the
silent alarm. The sound of police sirens could be heard in the
background. The gunman's eyes lit up as he stopped to hear the sounds.
His panic was now increased to unstable behavior. He grabbed Sarah with
one arm and pressed his gun into her head with his other hand. She
began to scream in pain as the weapon was being held so forcefully
against her head. The sirens screamed louder as they got closer, within
moments they would be there.
"Fuck! Those pigs come in here I swear I am gonna blow her head
off!"
This simple register robbery had turned into a hostage situation. At
this point Travis was going to make his move, but he didn't have to as
the gunman came to his senses and threw Sarah to the ground running
over to the window.
"Okay, okay, okay, here's what's gonna go down. Everybody is gonna sit
tight. Fuck!" He was confused as to what his next move was. He was
looking at a lifetime in jail for murdering that police officer. If
only he knew where he'd eventually end up. Suddenly jail doesn't seem
too bad. If only he knew. "Alright, I'm basically fucked." He looked at
the stairway behind the counter leading down into the basement. Maybe
there was a way out down there. The sirens screamed and echoed in his
ears. They again reminded him that if he didn't act fast, the cops
would probably surround every possible exit of that building.
At this instance the gunman came to a startling realization. He had no
way out. His actions have pretty much ruined any chance of getting out
of there free. Visions of prison bars and cold meals ran through his
mind. A lifetime of hardships and tragedies awaiting him. Surviving the
penitentiary. All those horror stories of men getting raped and beat
within an inch of their life. Cordial visits from loved ones he didn't
have. Long hard hours doing infinite labor. It's survival of the
fittest, Darwinism at its best. He could never have a normal life
again. All those shady drug deals and previous felonious capers that he
pulled off. Those kids. Those damn kids that were haunting him. All
those times he came close to jail time, but always seemed to get out of
it. This time was different. There was no escape. There was no
tomorrow. His old life ended when he pulled the trigger on that
officer, and his new life began. A life of torture and captivity. At
that very moment he was truly sorry for all his sins, but there was
nothing that could be done. His dark troubled reign of crime had
finally seen its last hours of daylight. Waking up to prison guards and
cold mush for food was all that awaited him. Perhaps it was the thought
of a life that would never see love that triggered that final instance
of madness. He could never know the feelings that Travis knew. Perhaps
that's what caused him to do it.
The next action was one that hardly any of us would ever have the will
to do. The will to take your own life is something that to many seems
impossible. Suicide in itself is the most selfish act that could ever
be committed. Taking your own life often puts a giant burden of
mourning and pain on loved ones. This particular gunman was alone in
life, and had no family. Maybe that's why the thought was conceivable
in his head. Nobody would miss him. Nobody would even know he was gone.
In a daze of confused drugged madness he put the gun up against his
head. Time stopped. Nothing mattered in his mind. He was no longer who
he was. All eyes in the room were locked on the gunman who had his
weapon pressed up against his very own temple.
Travis's attention switched over as heard the voice of an angel cry
out, "Don't do it! Please don't do it! Please!" Sarah pleaded trying to
reason with the gunman. Maybe it was cause she would have been plagued
with many nights without sleep in fear of horrible nightmares having
witnessed something like that. Maybe she just thought that things could
work out for him. Maybe it was just uncontrollable instinct, but she
tried to reason with him. Whatever it was, it was the last words she
ever spoke.
The gunman, eyes glazed over with hate, maybe jealousy, moved the gun
from his head and fired a single shot hitting Sarah right in the neck.
A few desperate gags emanated from her mouth as she fell to the
ground.
Time stopped for Travis Deaton at that very moment. "NO!" he cried in
shock. He sprinted over and slammed to the ground where Sarah's body
laid motionless. "Sarah! Please no!" A single tear fell from his eye
and landed in a puddle of her blood.
The gunman was now standing there with tears of his own streaming down
his face. His destiny had now been secured. He watched as Travis with
his back turned to him wept helplessly over Sarah's body. Travis's fury
and emotions now caused him to act in a manner he was not supposed to
do, seeing as who he is. His love for Sarah was so powerful that his
decision to bare his true colors was inevitable. The true Travis Deaton
is something we know little about. Of course we've read about his kind
in the bible and heard stories of cults and worshipers and whatnot but
never knew the truths of his being. For people that witnessed
everything that horrible day had now thrown out any possibilities of a
myth or fairy tale.
Travis now stood strong staring at the gunman, peering deep into his
eyes, his heart, and his soul. Instantly the gunman's hair turned
bright white as fear and shock consumed his body like a flourishing
plague swallowing every last inch of his being. The gunman's pants now
ridden with urine and feces as all his bodily functions were no longer
under his control. His body shuddered with fear as he saw his future of
eternal hell and torture burning and screaming in the eyes of Travis
Deaton, eyes that would have such a powerfully romantic influence on
women, now gone completely black with no pupil, just a terribly
horrified abyss of darkness. His gun fell to the ground as he lost his
ability to grip anything peering at the dark ivory horns that were
protruding from Travis's skull. Travis was not like us. Travis Deaton
was a demon. One glance from the dark stare of Travis Deaton caused the
gunman to fall to his knees. He had shot and killed Sarah, the love of
he who is pure evil, destroying the dreams of an imp of the devil.
Staring eye to eye with a demon would cause any man or woman to go
completely mad with fear. The gunman now knew this fear. This is the
true fear that only those chosen troubled souls ever face. A fear that
would cause priests to put a gun in their mouth instantly. A fear that
if known existed would be enough to choose death over life to anyone.
Truly the most outrageously horrible sensation that could never be
imagined. The true meaning of hell, from where Travis Deaton was
spawned. You hear about hell from the bible and from the ideology of
Dante's Inferno, but no, it's much worse than that. Just as heaven is a
truly magical paradise of true bliss, hell is equal in its powers of
agony and tortured eternalness. Had the gunman never shot and killed
Sarah, he never would have known such tragedy. He would have been
completely lucky to have a mere lifetime of imprisonment without the
love of another. He would have been lucky to sit alone in a jail cell
night after night crying endless tears. Now his destiny had been set.
His soul was no longer his. It belonged to Travis Deaton.
Travis slowly walked over to the gunman. For a moment he just stood
over him, judging him. He then bent over and picked the gunman up off
the ground and tossed him over his shoulder. Everyone in the bank was
now in pure shock; if they hadn't been in such terrible shock they
surely would be shedding tears as they prayed to God for forgiveness of
all their sins. Travis now standing there, with the gunman thrown over
his shoulder, peered over the rest of the souls lying on the ground in
that bank. He slowly walked towards that stairwell into the basement
where the gunman at one point thought of escape. He paused again at the
top of the stairs as the gunman gave on last plead for his life and
more importantly his soul.
"Please," was all he could muster out in a slight weakened
whisper.
Travis took him down the stairs. His silhouette disappeared into the
darkness. More importantly he took him in a way that nobody was
possible of. He took him away. For the love of God, he took him away.
Where could away possibly be? Home? Away? Away forever.
At this point the police officers came barging in. They saw the two
corpses surrounded by blood and a bunch of people lying on the ground
in horrific shock. The police would never know what happened that day.
None of the witnesses ever said a single word as to what took place.
Being a witness sometimes can be a curse. Sometimes it can be a lot
worse than a curse. Sometimes it can be hell in its own as these people
learned. These witnesses would all grow old never once even giving a
single thought as to what happened. As hard as the police officers
would interrogate, not a one would break. It was just too hard to form
any kind of thought that made sense.
Two dead people, a thousand questions, and no answers. A tomb of lost
lives, lost faiths and most importantly, lost love. A mystery that
would go unsolved forever.