~Derrik Walker was twenty-nine years old and drifted through this world a very unfulfilled man who seemed to never have the simple things in life he wanted. He didn’t want money or nice things. He wanted to be in love with a woman that returned the same love. He wanted to know what it was like yet never took the actions necessary to find it~
Every day I saw her across the street in the window, both of us on the second floor – her window always open. I never really meant to look – and she did discreetly notice. She looked into my eyes when we passed taking clothes to the laundry until her owner arrived home each night. It was a beautiful spring and people were out jogging, walking dogs and living normal lives. The pristine greenery and sweet air seemed a cloak placed by Satan himself to hide the sickening abuse from view; not from me though. I witnessed the explosive rage of that man and the hammering fists pound her frail being. I know I might induce the resemblance of a coward but in no way am such.

She and her assaulter walked by one afternoon as her face revealed blackened eyes, covered well beneath a varnish of makeup – still I noticed. He was a vicious lawman always discharging a foul grimace, incessantly showcasing his hatred. As they passed she turned saying silently, “please help me. It is you that I love. . .” In my imagination of course – though I know she said it in her heart.

Perhaps I was foolish for dreaming of such a love. Certainly I could be killed by this monster of a man. I was witness to his killing a puppy before the eyes of a little girl last week. He also backhanded the innocent child across the face while asking the woman I secretly desired – if she loved him. She was aware I had seen the whole situation yet ran into back into his arms, though fearing for her life. Why was I such a craven? I fantasized of pulverizing his skull with a lead pipe or stabbing him repetitively until my arm cramped from exhaustion. None the less, it was I who felt like dying. My friends thought I was insane for many reasons, one being my break up with my fiance Rachel. She told me that she did not love me and if I needed love, I needed to go move back in with my mother. In my way of thinking, what better reason could I have for a breakup?

Ray, my best friend from high-school came by the following afternoon, despite my disturbing thirst – it was a needed break. I began, “So, how’s your mother?”
“My mother? Derrik, you know damn well were talking about you. You are out of work, you live in some freaky fantasy world with . . .well, damn – I don’t know how to help you. These delusions you have about your neighbors – I mean, you need some professional help.”
I dig words from from the meat of my soul, “Have you ever loved someone that you just know, you know in your heart is the one – but you can’t change it?”
“Who are you talking about? That girl across the street? She’s MARRIED Derrik – to a U.S. Marshall. Not to mention that he could make you disappear. I told you before – nobody gets to have their dream girl. You just settle for whichever one will stay with you. Love is dead.”
“What?” I grunt. “I want to to something daring, taking a huge chance. I will get this woman;
I love her.”
“You don’t even know her damn name you freaking moron!”
I began feeling intensely vexed and said, “Just because you think love is dead, and God is dead, and you and your wife in that theater of misery you call marriage – don’t know anything about love! I know you base your life on Nietzsche’s “Thus Spoke Zarathustra” and you don’t even know what it’s about.”
Blood rushes to his head as a sickened scowl engraved his emotions in crimson anger. Ten deep breaths later he mutters, “I teach existentialism to our university’s finest! Don’t ever think you understand anything that I haven’t already learned as child – my boy. I’m leaving, I can’t stand listening to all this corny love nonsense – goodnight Derrik.”

Weeks passed as I pace the floors having learned that she and her nefarious husband are moving away. I believed that indeed I was falling apart – I just can’t seem to actually do anything to change it. Then – a light knock on the door. I make my way from the couch to see who it could be. I don’t believe my eyes; I cannot breathe – my vision is going. . .
“Hello Derrik. I know your name is Derrik.” She smiles, “I finally have a chance to see you! I’m Veronica, Veronica Hanson.”
“I’m so sorry. . .so sorry I didn’t help you.” I said, beginning to cry.
She wraps her arms around me and yes, this is love. “Derrik, We’ve been passing one another for three years without ever once talking. As sad as that is, it’s all that kept me going.”
I could hear her heart beating as we gently kissed. Her sugared scent released a part of me
I have never before known – I felt for the first time – like a man. A blistering inferno of passion ignited and we made love for hours, never did I remember falling asleep – that magical night.

A thundering percussion of explosive impact snatched us from our dreams. I was jolted to find Veronica gone. A scream from the den, “You filthy slut!” her husband was in my apartment.
He’s pinned her to the floor punching her repetitively. Blood spurted from every laceration, a whimper followed every blow. She was gurgling vomit and blood, unable to breathe – there’s a knock at the door while I run to end this piece of human garbage. I kick him in the face punting his skull as a football. I throat an echoic cry of pain, “Veronica!”
As I now stare into the barrel of a .44 Magnum he says, “I’d like to introduce my self – I’m
Stan. I’m Veronica’s husband.”

The front door is ripped from it’s frame as Ray has arrived. “What the hell is going on here?”
“Back off” instructs Stan. He turns to me. . . raises his weapon – I see a mangled slab of bloody meat blast from my chest leaving a scorched gouge where my lungs used to be. The smell of gun powder and cooked flesh permeates my senses. I hear a struggle and more gun fire. I convulse in tears. Ray and Veronica lean over me. She lies on me shivering in fear. “I love you, Derrik! Please don’t die!” I see a look of insane disbelief inscribed in Ray’s face.
I feel cold. . . I ask Ray, “Is God dead? He’s in tears holding my hand.
“No, Derrik.” He is shaken, “God is here buddy. God is here.”

I barely can breathe, “Go love your wife Ray. I think now – now you know what love is.”
I look in Veronica’s soothing green eyes. They just stared at me so sadly – so I smiled.
“I love you Veronica. I really love you. . .”
I am no longer breathing, but still know that I felt love. I knew at least for a moment, I had truly lived, and truly been loved.