My very quick and not so good story about the rich antagonist who donates huge amounts of money to charity each month.
Her name was Anna, and she was fourteen. She loved to play drums and she walked dogs after school. She wanted to be a veterinarian when she grew up, or a rock star. That’s what her mother sobbed to me at least, it what she told the judge too. I couldn’t care less about Anna. I never did care about the girl…but I could never forget her. They all made sure of that. The judge sentenced me to pay once a month, to a charity of her family’s choice. Each month on the same day. The day I hit her and ended her life. The fifteenth. I agreed so I wouldn’t go to jail. I had the money anyway, why did I care?
The price was a steel one though. Starting with a hundred dollars, each month I’d add another hundred. And I’ve been doing it for twelve years now. Each month o the fifteenth I cut out a check. Each month I tell them it’s in honor of Anna. And each month I find myself thinking of her more and more. How old would she be now? Would she be a veterinarian or a rock star? Would she have chosen something completely different? Would her wavy coffee brown hair still be to her shoulders, or would she have let it grow out? Maybe she would’ve cut it all off. She’d be twenty-six now. She might’ve married. Maybe she’d have a child too, maybe she’d be single.
I don’t know why I wonder all of these things. I never cared about Anna anyway. I just can’t ever forget her.