October Naut Prompt: Fear.

  Horace stared down at the man’s body beneath him. Vince. His Vince. The body is motionless, and Horace releases the grip on the neck to look at his hands. He just killed somebody. Somebody he cared about. With the sound of ocean waves crashing against his ears, he just sat there in shock. What is he supposed to do? If someone sees him, his whole career will die just like Vince did. He slowly raised his head, his lovely white hair was ruffled by the encounter. The ocean. That’s the only place Vince can go.

  Making up his mind, Horace slowly rose, dusting sand off of his dress. He grabbed the other’s arm, dragging him deeper and deeper into the cold waves. He shuddered as the cold water rose and fell around his bare ankles, but he continued forward until Vince’s body was far enough. He let go, and pushed… And the waves did the rest, swallowing and welcoming the body in. He stood there a while, frozen in place as he watched the body slowly creep away from him.

  Eventually he had to turn away, leaving the body behind him. He has to leave before he gets caught. He walked forward, step by wet step, focusing on getting to the dry sand instead of thinking about the body, about how it would slowly float out until it was fully consumed by the ocean. He can’t turn back, he has to go back the way he came. But the crashing of the waves taunted him, daring him to look back and dwell on what he had done. But he won’t look back.

  The shock made the journey home a blur. He didn’t say a word, ignoring his manager’s questioning. He had to ignore Sepira’s prodding, he couldn't form any of the words needed to create a lie. He stared out at his apartment, the gold blurring into the white tile. His clothes were still wet, and grew colder and colder as night shone through his large windows.

  He closed his curtains. He threw his shoes and coat to the side along with the dress. He’d have to burn it, or he’d be reminded of what he did. He felt tired, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep.

  He walked to his bathroom.

  And stared at himself in the mirror.

  He looked exhausted, his hair was a mess. He was crying, his tears causing makeup to run down his face, streaking it with blacks and oranges. So he stood there and stared at himself for a while, watching his face as he silently cried. Eventually he was able to move, and he simply began to clean the makeup off of his face before removing his jewelry. Then once he ran out of tears, he cleaned off the salt and went to his room.

  The silence in his apartment was deafening. It was always quiet, sure, but it felt even more quiet than usual. He wouldn’t bother dressing in pajamas, and instead chose to just lie on his bed and stare at the darkness.

  He loved Vince so much. Why did he do that? Why did Vince not want to be with him? He’s never done anything wrong… Horace rolled onto his back, staring at his ceiling. What did he do to deserve this? He drowned the man he loved, and if anyone finds out his career is ruined. Everything he’s worked so hard for could be destroyed at the drop of a hat, all because Vince had to be difficult. Why couldn’t he just take him back?

  Horace laid there all night, his mind kept awake by a cycle of thoughts. And of course, for Horace, he would never see himself as the problem. To Horace, it’s because of everyone else, not him. He feared more for his career than for the fact that he killed someone, and why would he? For him, he’s the most important person.

  He laid there until the sun shone through his windows, and as light streamed in he slowly sat up. He has to make sure the body is gone. After he’s through working… He’ll check. He’ll check so that he can sleep, so that he knows his career is safe.