'Now, where was I?' You think. You see Teddy curled up on the ground, bleeding from his nose. 'Oh, right.'
"Lenny! I've already told you," Teddy spews out in a rush of air. His nose is bleeding from where you hit him. "I'm not your guy! I wouldn't lie to you!"
"Wouldn't you?" You question. Rummaging through Jimmy Grantz pocket, which is now your's, you pull out Teddy's picture. You throw it at the ground were Teddy lays vulnerable. He picks it up and turns it around.
«DON'T BELIEVE HIS LIES»
«HE'S THE ONE»
«KILL HIM»
He eyes it for a minute. They widen slightly. You smirk.
"Lenny," he says. And you slap him across the face. "Leonard," he corrects, "I've told you before. John G. is already dead!"
"Prove it."
"I can't! You burn every bit of evidence I give you," he looks at the back of the picture again. "You probably wrote this right after I told you the truth! About John G. Your wife. Everything!"
Your breathing is shallow and your pulse is pounding in your ears. You eye the gun on the ground next to Teddy. He could pick it up and end your life if he really tried. But oddly, his doesn't. He just lays on the ground, at your mercy. At your judgement.
"You don't remember because you lie to yourself, Leonard. Your memories-"
"Memories are unreliable," you cut off.
"Because you tell yourself that!"
"You don't need memories when you have instinct."
"Oh, this again? Listen to yourself!"
"Memory can change the shape of a room; it can change the color of a car. And memories can be distorted. They're just an interpretation, they're not a record, and they're irrelevant if you have the facts."
"The fact IS, Leonard, that you lie to yourself."
You're angry now. Who knows? You might have every right to be. He doesn't say anything, because he doesn't know what to say. You're about to kill him and he knows it.
"Facts can be distorted too, Lenny," he pants out, but you block it out. You don't listen, because to you it's another lie.
"There are things you know for sure," you say firmly. "I know what that's going to sound like when I knock on it. I know what that's going to feel like when I pick it up." You bend over and pick the gun up from the ground. "See?" You say. "Certainties. It's the kind of memory you take for granted."
You cock the gun and hit Teddy with it. His glasses fall off and now he's facing away from you. You point the gun to the back of his head. In a split second, your mind goes blank. As if this memory is about to fade into a new one. One you won't remember. You won't remember why you're pointing this gun at this man's head. You have a decision to make.
"Lenny!"
And the gun goes off. You don't even realize it for a second. You're still holding the trigger down. You're grip on the gun is tight and sweaty, you've almost forgotten what just happened and you look to Teddy's motionless body. He's dead. You killed him. You've killed John G. and whether he's the right one or not doesn't matter. But he's dead. That's all that matters.
You think about writing this down, taking a picture, something. But you have faith in yourself. You'll remember. Won't you?
You get inside Jimmy's car and turn on the ignition. Sitting idly, you contemplate about your decision while it's still fresh in your mind. If you don't write this down, it'll be like it never happened and Teddy would be right. You'd be lying to yourself. You won't remember and you'll hunt down another John G. It's a never ending puzzle.
You pull out of the dirt lot at the abandoned building and make your way into town. Driving down the street you think if you can actually lie to yourself again, since you have before supposedly, but it's too late. The memory is already going and you shut your eyes. You see your wife.
There's a redlight and oncoming traffic. You hear tires screech and car horns in a far off place, but you don't believe it because it doesn't matter. It doesn't exist.
Your wife smiles and you wake up for the first time.