Writing club week 2: Don't worry, they'll never tell

As I lifted the plastic wrapped body from the trunk of the car I share with Sven, I tried to remember if this was the 3rd or 4th this week. The weight body seemed to mirror the weight that I’d begun to feel on my soul. Each one seeming heavier than the last.

Before today, I’d never stopped to consider why we were doing this. Not the body disposal. That was obvious. But why were we making so many bodies? Is our secret war really worth it? And, if we win, what then? If things keep up we will be the rulers of nothing but a graveyard. If we throw many more bodies into this river, it will begin to run red.

Sven and I heft the body into the river, then sit and enjoy a hot cup of coffee on a cold night. While we’re sitting there, breathing in the aromatic steam from our cups, I consider sharing my concerns. Sven has been my friend and partner for many years. Surely he sees the same things I do. The lives ended, the bodies disposed of. The families destroyed. The damage.

So I do. I unburden my soul to my oldest friend. All the killings, all the violence. All so pointless. I can tell that Sven does not understand my concern. He seems to think I am worried about getting caught. As if after all these years that was still any concern. Dully, he turns to me and says “Don’t worry, they’ll never tell”.