 
# H. A. Carter

3 Years Later

By Kimberly Fuller

No part of this publication may be reproduced,

stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form

or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording,

or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.

Copyright © 2012 by Kimberly Fuller

All rights reserved. Published by Kimberly Fuller

First Edition, August 2012

Smashwords Edition

For my children...may you never feel the agony of losing your humanity,

and always value the worth of your life.

# H. A. Carter

3 Years Later

By Kimberly Fuller

## 1

They say I am a killer.

A monster. A psycho. A freak. The endless list goes on and on.

But sometimes what They say isn't always the truth.

The truth is, They were the ones who tormented me, bullied me, laughed at me, and ridiculed me.

They murdered my soul.

That's why I did what I did, and that's why my mother cries.

## 2

I picture my mother sitting silently weeping every night at the awful things I had done. I picture her staring longingly at crumpled old photographs of me, wishing to turn back the hands of time and fix what went wrong as though that would solve all of her sadness. I wish she understood that she wasn't the one who went wrong. None of this was ever her fault. She did the best she could. I made my own choices, good or bad as they were.

Oh, my poor sweet mother. I do my best to speak to her when I am allowed, but I would love to see her smile again. She's sure aged a great deal since that tragic day. The worry lines creeping across her once polished cheek, the skin now weathered with quiet agony. Even her raven hair has begun to lose its confident luster, tucked away in a quick, ill-forgotten ponytail, exposing the fresh wrinkles in the corners of her eyes. Nothing like the still semi-youthful looking woman who showed up in front of the stone church with a fearless demeanor on the outside, but screaming in unfathomable torture on the inside. She pushed away her hurt and rose from her painful ashes like an unbreakable phoenix as she stepped in front of the firing range of angry parents and faculty at their funeral just a few years past. That single act of valor on my mother's part both fills me with great pride and excruciating sadness. Had the tables been turned, could I have been as brave as she? Would I rise above the pain, or flee like a coward to swim in my torment? After all these years, I'm still not sure if I could have done what she did. All these years.

I can't believe it's been nearly three years now. I seem to have forgotten all sense of time Here, which is quite easily done. Here, just yesterday I was walking to school. Just yesterday I was opening that heavy door of fate. Just yesterday I was...

Yes, time is all but forgotten Here, but memories, memories like those are in great abundance.

Here you're not allowed to forget. They won't let you. Definitely not Here.

## 3

Their burial still remains fresh in the confines of my mind. The day black and cold, both outside and in my heart. The air was thick with sorrow and heavy with loss. The whole town it seemed had come to grieve for the fallen ones. They had buried four of the five that day. Four together, one outcast, shunned from acceptance even after death. To top it off, they were burying them all next to each other with snappy little matching coffins and coordinating headstones. Yet another knife twisting consequence to my actions. I guess it was their way of holding on to that last spark of hope that they may rest in peace together. Makes me sick.

I can so clearly picture the townspeople all standing in front of the church as it began to mist and rain, mixing with their salty tears and clinging to their faces. Tears of grief. Tears of torment. Tears that they all knew should have been prevented. If only someone would have known what I was capable of. If only someone would have stopped me. If only someone would have listened. No one really thought I'd actually go through with it. I guess they were wrong. It's funny, you know, what everyone knows after the fact. Geniuses and prophets always seem to emerge in the aftermath just in time to declare they had known all along, but never thought to tell. What crap! You people all thought you knew what happened, what my motives were, but had you truly known the truth there would be no, "I told you so". Despite all my condescending rage against them, I cannot deny feeling horrific guilt at my actions. The pain bursts through my insides in a constant flow of razor-like cuts of remorse.

I ached to apologize, to scream and cry out, "I'm sorry for what I've done!"

I ached to wake up from this nightmare.

How could I have done this? How could I have hurt them all?! How could I have hurt her?

My Joanna.

She was my muse, my first crush, my best friend...

Yet, still, I hurt her. I did this! But, it wasn't just her that I hurt and grieved for. I hurt them all in one way or another. Every one of them suffered at my hand. I caused enough pain for everyone to endure for a lifetime. Or an eternity in my case.

And there, in the cold wet mist, they stood before the church three years ago. Those left behind to continue suffering my actions. Fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, and everyone else the victims shared their lives with. They all had to gather around gleaming white, ironically angelic looking coffins asking why. Why it had to be this person to die. Why it couldn't have happened to someone else's child. Why couldn't I have just died instead?

Each mourner so carefully dressed and pressed in their Sunday best. Their coal black suits and dresses being slowly dampened by the dewy weeping air that mourned beside them. They bowed their heads, cupped their hands, and prayed. Prayed it would never happen again. Not here. Not anywhere.

It's times like this that I realize I deserve to be where I am. That's why They won't let you forget days like that. They want you to remember the pain you caused. They want you to always know how terrible you truly are. Ignorance is bliss. And that is a sweet privilege that I will never taste.

As hard as I've tried, even after the years have gone by, I can't forget. Those faces are forever cauterized and scarred into the depths of my memories, never to heal. Twisted, torn, angered, and betrayed. Some say that betrayal is even worse than murder. Why should it not be fitting that I betrayed them all? Especially my mother. My poor mother. She was always the one who truly believed in me. She was the one who always thought I'd do something great with my life. She never listened to the not-so-quiet whispers of what a freak I was, how I just didn't fit in, and how I would never amount to anything. Perhaps she should have listened to them after all. Oh, how I wish I could

have proven her right.

My mother was once a wonderfully vibrant woman, before I broke her spirit. Her bravery rivaled that of any war hero that ever existed, and continues to do so. The day she attended their

funeral with her head held high, even while her heart slowly died inside was an insurmountable feat of courage. I was so very proud of her bravery while the others shunned her with their intense anger and fury. They didn't understand. It wasn't her fault. She didn't make the decision that day. I did! I did this!

It was I who made them cry.

It was I who caused their pain.

I, who was unconvincing!

I, who could not be reckoned with!

It was I who changed their lives.

But, they were still convinced that it was she who stood by my side.

Yet, after every crucible they put her through, she chose to stand by their sides and grieve with them for their lost souls. I never knew how strong my mother could be until that day. I had always known she was a fighter and a survivor, but few could have lived through her trials and tribulations and still kept their head held as high as she did. She mourned along side those parents she barely knew, and for their children she knew even less.

My mother's compassion and empathy was not welcomed lightly by her fellow parents, however. What I viewed as an intense act of bravery on her part was seen as something more sinister. If anything, it was considered more of a slap in the face than a friendly gesture. A vicious cold-hearted act of contemptuous slap. This slap stung to no one more than Jackson Douglas, "Big Jack". His

hometown hero of a son was one of the victims that grave day. Actually, he was to be my only prey until things got out of hand. I'd been desperately wanting to derail his arrogant crazy train since

freshman year.

Wait, I take that back. My entire life, I'd been wanting to rid myself of that asshole. To end his long standing reign of torment once and for all. However, the way in which it all came to pass was

never my original intent. Fuel to the fire. Like I said, things really did get out of hand...

## 4

The crumpled walnut colored handout trembled slightly in her hand as she approached the large stone church. The concrete steps were just a few feet away as she hustled to enter the thick wooden doors before being seen.

"I can't goddamn believe you would actually show your face here after what that monster of yours had done!" a loud angered growl emerged from the crowd gathered on the church's manicured lawn.

Jackson's six foot two, muscled frame barreled in front of her as soon as he saw her approach the front of the church. She tried to avoid his threatening taunts and keep her eyes focused on the door, but with Jackson, avoidance often became impossible when he was on a determined rampage, so blatantly used to getting his way.

"I'm just here to say sorry and give my condolences, Jackson. Please, at least let me pay my respects. I think I'm owed that," my mother said with reserved strength.

"Sorry?!" Jackson half gasped, half laughed in absurdity.

She gazed down toward the ground, staring at a dark patch of wet concrete on the sidewalk, silently pleading for him to just turn and walk away. She had hoped he would sympathize with her instead of condemning so quickly, but Jackson does not sympathize well.

"You are owed nothing! Nothing! You have no right to be here, respect or not. My son was going to make something of himself! He had a chance to get the hell out of this town and now he's gone because of you!"

There was such ferocity in his voice that her breath caught deep within her throat, choking her with every inflection. Chills raced through her calm demeanor, afraid of what he might say next in the midst of the now attentive crowd. Tiny fear-filled goosebumps rippled up and down her arms amplified by the chilly breeze rustling through the air.

The other unaware parents began to now fixate on the two. Their piercing eyes blazing with both fear and anger as they now glared at her. One woman gave her a deathly icy stare, while others began to whisper rapidly to each other. Their volume increasing like locusts across the church yard. Everyone's curiosity keeping them glued to the scene Jackson was now making. His hatred toward my mother and I ran far deeper than the others'. His entire life had revolved around his precious JJ, and now there was nothing left to fill the empty void but broken dreams and resentment.

Jackson towered malevolently over her. The thick smell of his cheap cologne, mixed with the pungent scent of stale cigars, suffocated the air around her. He hovered over her delicate face, his breath steaming in the cool foggy air. The once golden brown of his eyes now grew crimson as he came within inches of her soft skin. Just the slightest aroma of whiskey whispered across her nose with each breath he took. A brief moment of quiet hesitation surrounded them both as they stared into each others eyes. Her deep swimming blue eyes iced over quickly as she glared back at Jackson. She was never one to be pushed around, especially by him, and he knew it. Backed into a corner, this delicate flower quickly turned from butterfly to bear at the blink of an eye.

Her voice grew deep and loathsome, "I cannot see my son either, Jack. In case you've forgotten that. He was all I had in this godforsaken town. All I had! You are not the only one who lost somebody," she peered over Jackson's shoulder at his wife, Sarah, "at least you still have someone left. I'm completely alone. Again."

Jackson lowered his eyes, briefly defeated. Shameful sadness washed across his face seconds before he returned her cold stare. Jackson just couldn't go down without a fight, and decided to deliver

one final low blow.

He leaned in close, his course lips almost grazing her ear, "Your son being gone is no loss, Trina. That thing should have never been born."

Jackson turned harshly away. A smirk of triumph danced across his face as he stomped into the church, filing in with the others.

Trina kept her composure just long enough to see Jackson's tailored black suit fade away through the doorway. All her strength came crashing down in one intense explosion. She clutched her chest tightly, nearly losing her balance, choking on the pain of Jackson's last comment. Bright silver bubbles swirled through her vision. She bent over slightly, afraid she may vomit on the cold gray sidewalk. Warm, salty tears crept slowly down her pale cheeks. She looked like a starved child being punished for eating a stale piece of bread that was thrown for the dogs. That's how they treated her, worthy of nothing more than their scraps of forced pity, starving her of her own grief. No one stopped to see if she was okay. No one even gave her a second look. It was out of her control, and she could not escape it.

I could imagine her pain, her agony, as she hugged herself alone in front of that church. I should have been there to hug her. Someone should have been there to hug her. I wanted so badly to make Jackson pay for what he said to my mother, but I knew he was right. I was no loss to anyone. If anything, it was a great gain that I was gone from society for good.

She dried her tears, smoothed down her navy blue dress, raised her head once again, and entered the somber building. Despite how she felt inside, she would not let them see her break. That was a satisfaction they would just have to live without.

## 5

The deafening echo of the town clock striking noon in the distance still rings in my ears from that fateful day. It was a Monday.

I remember deciding then, what I was going to do. That day my belief in God ran dry, and I took life in my own hands. I made the decision then, for better or worse. Sometimes I still wonder why I was so certain of my choices back then. Why I was so sure that was the only way.

Torment.

That's one reason why I did it.

Embarrassment.

Hatred.

Rejection.

Vengeance...

I can go on and on about the small seemingly minute reasons that when grouped together create a force so malevolent that I'm not sure could have been stopped, even if they had believed me to be dangerous. Every day I had to endure those emotions, like it or not. Some days were worse than others. I don't really remember many days in which I didn't feel like an out-cast and made shameful to be alive. You tell me, who aspires to be rejected in life? Not I. I'm still unsure, even to this day, as to why I was so disliked. Why it was me who had to be the center of their ridicule? Why he hated me so much? I never did anything to any of them until that day. Perhaps, it was just my very presence in the world they despised. How horrid of a being do you have to be for others to hate your very essence in the same room? Am I really that bad?

## 6

"Carter, I'm going to fucking kill you!"

"What did I do now?"

"I know it was you who told Mr. Ryan about the test yesterday, Asshole! That's what you did!"

Jack Jr's face was bearing down on mine. His thick arrogant breath invading my nostrils, making me almost choke. I could feel the heat of anger and rage coming off his chin as he talked down to me. JJ, was a big guy, like his dad. He stood 6'2 and weighed in over 200lbs of pure muscle. JJ towered over my mediocre 5' 9 frame. I was built more like my mother, small but lean. He was the poster boy for the all American jock. The fucking high school football hero right here in front of me. Oh lucky day! Can I have an autograph?

Football hero or not, JJ was not the brightest crayon in the box. As a matter of fact he was more an earthy tone at best. Yes, I had seen him cheat on Mr. Ryan's history test. Hell, anyone with a set of eyes could have seen him cheat on that test. He wasn't too slick about it either. However, it wasn't me who ratted on him. It was Joanna. She said she was finally sick and tired of him always getting out of school work and walking all over people just because he played football. She said she was just tired of all of them, we both were. I wasn't going to tell JJ that it was her, of course. It's not like he'd believe me if I did anyway. Blaming me was just second nature to him. I was an easy scapegoat and always had been. I probably always will be. That thought made me really hate my life.

"I didn't do it, JJ," I said quietly to the smooth linoleum floor. I didn't want to look him in the eyes. It always seemed to make things worse when I tried to stand up for myself. So, I just gave up these days. Really, what more could he possibly do to me?

"Don't lie to me, you little shit!" he growled, "Mr. Ryan's making me retake the test before the football game. If I don't pass, I don't play!"

His thick trunk like arm swung against my chest hard, pinning me to the wall. I couldn't move

nor did I dare try. The weight of his behemoth arm crushing against my rib cage.

It will be over soon. Just close your eyes and take it, I said to myself.

JJ leaned down again, hovering so close I can smell the cheap acne cream on his stubbly chin.

"Trust me, Carter, if we lose this game, it'll be your ass. I'm going to make sure everyone knows it was your fault too. Everyone."

Great! That was just what I needed, more people hating me. I really hate my life.

JJ snickered a little, "Pathetic, Carter. Just plain pathetic."

It was coming. I knew it. He'd punch me right in the guts for this one. My eyes shut tight in anticipation. So tight all I could see was a blurred pinkish white from the inside of my eyelids. I took in a deep breath waiting for the inevitable.

Nothing. But, it'll come. I know it.

Nothing.

Nothing.

The wait was starting to get to me. God, just get it over with!

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

What's taking him so long?!

I almost started to panic. The bell would be ringing soon, and all of the classes would switch. The hallway flooded with giggling teenage girls and hormone driven teenage boys, each one not above laughing at the freak getting his ass kicked yet again.

Oh, my god, he's waiting for everyone to see it! My heart raced faster and faster, nearly

pumping right out of my chest. My face was reddening and becoming flush. My stomach churned slightly. I was too afraid to open my eyes just yet.

I don't think I can take anymore embarrassment today! I cried to myself.

Jack started to laugh.

"Not yet, Carter, you little weenie. You'll have your time, though. I'm not going to let you know when, but you'll have it. Mark my words," he snarled at me and walked off with his entourage of wannabes.

Relief struck me as well as fear. Who knows what horrible things he and his jock friends had planned for me now. I had two more classes until the day was over. One of them being with JJ and two of his lackeys. Shit was going to hit the fan today....and I was the shit.

## 7

There were so many more instances in which I was made the butt of every joke by JJ and his friends. Those bastards certainly knew how to make a guy feel welcomed. Ha. Ha.

I tried to remember the first time they let me know I wasn't good enough for their little clique. I'd like to say it wasn't until at least junior high, but it started much earlier than that. I do believe the first time I met them I was already considered the odd man out.

What was so wrong with me? Why didn't they like me? What did I do??

Even when we were young they bullied me. It all started back in elementary school. I remember the worse day very well. That was the day they made me pee my pants in front of the entire third grade.

*

"Come on, Harvey, let's go! We have to hurry! She'll be waiting, I swear! Scout's honor!" JJ held up two fingers very business like in order to prove his honesty.

"I've really got to go, JJ! This is our only bathroom break, you know that! I thought I could, but just I can't wait!" I pleaded back, holding myself trying not to let go. In Miss Watson's third grade you got one bathroom break right after lunch and before recess. I was as regular as Old Faithful when it came to taking our daily bathroom break, but today I had planned on skipping bathroom break to go outside early with JJ. I thought I was finally joining the "in" crowd and this was my chance. Maybe I shouldn't have had that second juice at lunch.

"No, Harvey! Just hold it and come with me. I said she'll be waiting for you!" JJ scolded.

I had to pee so bad it was beginning to hurt my sides. I didn't know what to do. JJ was being nice to me and told me Joanna liked me and wanted to meet me by the swings at recess. Me! Can you

believe it? Joanna was the coolest girl in the third grade and she liked me! I thought the world of her.

Oh, Joanna. She was smart, pretty, and popular. What's not to like? Plus, she was one of the only girls that wasn't mean to me. I would give anything to have her be my girlfriend, and that meant skipping my usual bathroom break. I couldn't be late or she might think I don't like her. This was my chance to be in the cool crowd and get the girl. Just like in the movies! I couldn't waste this moment.

"Alright, JJ. I'll hold it," I said shakily.

"Good, keep holding it, Harvey. She'll be there."

JJ and I strolled over to the swings, navigating our way through the hustle and bustle of what seemed like hundreds of other kids on the playground. I looked around anxiously, but Joanna wasn't there. I began to panic, thinking maybe I was too late. I gave JJ a terrified glance.

He smiled back, "Oh yeah! She told me she was going to be a few minutes late. You know how girls are."

He chuckled a little and nodded to his best friend, Mike, who gave him a thumbs up. I assumed this was a sign that she was on her way. I sure hoped so, because there was no way I could hold it much longer.

The time seemed to drag on. It seemed like a lifetime had passed rather than a couple of minutes as I waited, my teeth almost swimming. My insides gurgled slightly and I feared what was coming next.

Uh oh! Oh, man! I'm going to pee my pants! Oh man, oh man, oh man!

Hold it. Hold it. Hold it!

I can't hold it!

"I'm sorry, JJ. I need to go. Please, please tell her to wait for me. PLEASE!!" I begged him

as I began to leave.

"You're not going anywhere, Carter," a mischievous smiled spread across JJ's face.

Mike grabbed my arm and yanked me back. He kept hold of me, his hands tightening around

my small wrist. Two other kids grabbed on as well, gluing me in place.

"Hold him! Don't let him leave!" JJ commanded the other boys.

"I've got to go!" I yelled as I tried to free myself of their grip, still a little unsure as to what was going on.

It was already too late. I could feel the warm trickle of what was left of my apple juice from lunch streaming down my legs. My eyes began to water, and I felt my face get red hot.

"Carter, did you just piss your pants?" Mike yelled loudly.

My chance was ruined. It was all ruined! Wet tears fell softly down my face. My blue jeans were sticking to my legs. A cool breeze chilled my damp clothes, fusing them to my scrawny body. Goosebumps soon appeared up and down my spine. I tried desperately to pull my green t-shirt down over my pants.

"Hey, everyone! Carter just peed himself!" another one of JJ's goons shouted.

"Oh man, Carter. I can't believe you actually peed yourself! Hey, Mike, I guess I owe you a dollar after all. You were right! You won the bet!" JJ laughed hysterically, high-fiving Mike as they both busted up.

Four classes worth of third graders came charging over to the swings to see what all the commotion was. I could hear the giggles and cackles already beginning. The wind blew them away at first, but soon there was too much laughter for even the strongest of gusts to cover up. It spread like wildfire throughout the playground. Soon every kid out there saw what I had done. The dark spot in the crotch of jeans more than enough evidence to prove my guilt. My head turned from side to side

trying desperately to find a way out, or at least a place to hide. Hell, I'd crawl into a hole leading to Alcatraz if there was one available. I longed to just die right there. Tears were starting to sting at my cheeks. My vision was getting blurry and an escape seemed pointless now. Everyone had already seen

me. I felt as if I were going to puke right there on the thick blue rubber swing that dangled uselessly as I pulled it in front of me.

John, my best friend and only friend, was the only one who wasn't laughing at me. He even ran in front of me, trying to block everyone's view. He began to shout back at the laughing crowd that gathered around me.

"Leave him alone, guys! It was an accident! It could have happened to any one of you!"

His attempts were thoughtful but useless. Practically the whole school had already seen enough to damage my ego for a lifetime. The truth was that, yeah, it could have happened to any one of them, but it happened to me.

As I stood soaked in my own urine, crying like an infant in front of a hundred of my peers, I saw Joanna standing with her friends. JJ quickly pulled her to the front of the crowd for front row seats to my demise. Joanna stood confused at first yanking her arm out of JJ's grasp, but soon she was laughing along with all the rest of the kids at the pitiful mess before her eyes. He had lied to me. She hadn't really liked me after all. She probably didn't even know I existed until now. I was set up. It was all a joke, and I was the punch line.

What's green, red, and wet all over?

Harvey Carter after he pees himself!

Ha. Ha.

Knock knock.

Who's there?

Depends.

Depends who?

Better get Harvey Carter some Depends before he pees his pants!

Ha. Ha. So funny I forgot to laugh...

*

That was the beginning of my true torment, and the end of my self-esteem. Every day there seemed to be a fun new joke made out of my expense. How thoughtful of me to be such an inspiration to the numerous comedic entrepreneurs of my school. How very thoughtful...

## 8

That's all behind me now. None of it matters Here.

Oh God, I wish that were true.

Some days I just want to hurt them again.

Some days I want to relive that day.

Some days I just want to close my eyes and see nothing. No faces, no sadness, no crying.

But I don't get that chance. Here I relive that day...every day.

And just like yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that, I will feel that pain as plain as though it had just happened. And here I had thought I was the one who was supposed to be punishing them.

## 9

The quiet monotone gong of the dining room clock echoed through the still walls of the house. It will be time soon. My mother would be coming home, just as I am leaving for school again. I desperately wanted to be out of the house today before she came home. I couldn't let her see the hushed agony that radiated off my face. It's just another day to her, Harvey. Let her have just one more normal day. She's been working the night shift at Lou Ann's, waiting tables, then heading straight to Marv's for the morning shift as a check out clerk. She'd be so tired that I hardly doubt she'll even notice that I'm not home. We've always struggled financially a bit, but things seemed to be getting worse these days. I know she worried a lot about how she was going to be sending me to college, which despite her best lies, was the real reason for attaining the second job. Hopefully, after today she won't worry so much. Being a single mom never seemed to drag her down. She always kept a smile on her face for me when she knew I was watching, but I knew deep down she was sad and lonely. I never questioned her about it, at least I tried not to. My mom had dated guys over the years, but nothing was ever serious. Actually there were a lot of guys that I never even had the chance to meet, or they never had a desire to meet me as the case may be. Maybe things will change for her after today.

My mother once had major potential in life. She was a great student in high school, getting top grades in all her classes. She was pretty and athletic, but then I came along and took it all away. My mother got pregnant her senior year of high school, which according to my grandmother was a complete shock to everyone. Apparently to my real father as well because he never showed his face once news of my existence surfaced.

"He's no one."

That was all the response anyone ever got out of her when asked about my real father. She always seemed bitter and resentful about it, but reluctant to give any further details. I pried further once and rued the day, giving in to the thought of never knowing the other side of my genetic make up.

Lost in thought, I failed to hear the door open and close. My mother strolled in through the kitchen door while I sat at the table. She tossed her keys on the counter absent mindlessly and stood in front of the refrigerator. I lowered my head and quickly cleared the table before she turned back around. I needed to be heading back or it would be too late. This could possibly be my only shot at accomplishing my goal. Lunch hour was already half over. Why did I stop to eat? I cursed my damned routine.

I had begun eating my lunch at home my senior year. It was my only escape during the day to be free of torment aside from my English class, which I never missed. I thought, at least this way, no one can bother me. I could sit quietly, eat my food, and plot my escape from this hell. At least at home I wouldn't be made fun of. I wouldn't be tortured. No more mashed potatoes thrown in my hair, or green beans shoved down the back of my shirt. That was always a favorite with JJ and his friends. The vegetable sometimes varied with the day's menu, but it was always the same stupid prank.

"Hey, Carter, over here!"

"Yeah?" I said quietly afraid to turn my head, but did so anyway.

Just then either JJ or one of his cronies would come running up behind me, grab my shirt, yanking so hard I would nearly choke every time, and toss left over greens down my back. Sometimes they would stick to the inside of my shirt, and I would have to spend my free time in the bathroom scraping squashed peas out of my clothes before class. Other times, the slimy food would make a cool trail down my spine and slip out of the bottom of my shirt to the floor.

I would stand, frozen with fear and embarrassment as he would trot off smirking and high-fiving the rest of the group. I can't fucking believe they did it to me again, I'd tell myself. I'd stand there wanting to just lie down and cry.

I hate vegetables.

*

During those times I would still pick myself up and go on about my day. Trying desperately not

to make it a big deal. I tried to be strong then. I didn't want them to see more weakness from me than they already did. But, sometimes, even the strongest people can only take so much shit.

## 10

I walked out the door quickly to avoid any confrontation from my prying mother. I wore my navy blue backpack with, "Harvey Carter", embroidered in fancy white cursive across the back. It was a gift from my grandmother sent via UPS two years ago. She lived only across town, but she and my mother stopped speaking a couple of years back and things just weren't quite the same between us. What once were monthly family outings and thoughtful birthday hugs, turned into generic hallmark cards and yearly phone calls to make sure no had died.

My backpack hung loosely over my shoulder as I walked. Normally it was weighted down with Chemistry books and Shakespeare, but today was different. Today it was empty, but heavy with fear. At times I even thought of letting it slip off completely and fall to the ground. You won't be needing it anymore anyway, I told myself. Yet, I kept hold of it as if it helped steady my nerves. The tips of my fingers turning a murky white as I clung tightly to the nylon straps. My brown unlaced boots scraped steadily across the dry sidewalk as I continued to trudge.

Scratch. Scrape.

Scratch. Scrape.

I wore a long thick coat that day. It was a cool fall day, perfect jacket weather. A breeze lifted the fallen leaves that caked the ground. They danced in the wind like crumpled ballerinas still unaware that the show was over. Even as cold as it was getting, I was sweating profusely. It wasn't just the thickness of my coat that was making me sweat. I was nervous and scared. This kind of a decision couldn't be taken lightly, and if I was going to do this, I had to be strong.

I walked those few blocks from my house to the school in a matter of moments. Every other day I walked these blocks to school, and every day the trip was too short, the view of the school coming too soon for comfort. It was a dreaded journey that I was pleased would be my last.

My feet got heavier with each step as I grew closer. Trudging back to that lifeless, blood-

sucking place that holds me prisoner each day. Every step I took, I prepared myself for the hell I was going to endure.

One step, dirty looks

Two steps, name-calling.

Three steps, punching.

I hated to even think about it when I came to four.

All their hate directed at me.

Me. Why me?

But no more.

It ends today.

## 11

I never understood what it was about me that they all seemed to hate. At the very least I wanted to know why JJ hated me so much. What was so wrong with me? What was wrong with them? I liked to chalk the rest up to simply following his childish lead and that they truly didn't dislike me. It was something I liked to call "the bully effect". You know, when you befriend the bully, no matter how much of an asshole they are, simply to not be the one he picks on. Was that really the reason or something more primal? Was it because I didn't have a dad? Was it because I was poor? Quiet? Shy? Weak? What??

You know, even though he hated me so much, I could almost forget all he had done. I could forgive his name calling because he had such a limited vocabulary. I could forgive his beating me because I knew his father beat him when he disobeyed. I could have forgiven everything until senior year. He took so much from me in such a short amount of time. It was time I took something back.

Vengeance.

That's what I wanted from him. And I took it.

*

I took a deep breath in as I grew closer and closer to the school. Guilt, shame, happiness, fear, and every other human emotion you can think of invaded my body in one swirling vortex of nerves and courage. I had never felt so alive and dead inside at the same time. I didn't know what to feel more as the school door came nearer and nearer to me.

I remembered back at those times they made me out a joke in front of everyone. Every time they tripped me in the cafeteria and laughed as my food came crashing to the floor, too poor to buy another lunch. Every time they called me names down the hall just to see if I'd look, and sure enough I looked every time. I never forgot every, "loser," "moron," "retard," or, "stupid".

I gripped the smooth, heavy gun in my left pocket a little tighter after that thought.

Hmm, stupid? Who's stupid now, Asshole?

## 12

Oh, God, please don't make me relive it again! I don't think I can take it one more time! Please! PLEASE! Just this once, please, don't make me do it! Please...

My pleading is useless. I know this, yet I scream anyway still clinging to that hope that someone may care. That someone is listening to my madness. But, I'm begging to thin air. It's not that They can't hear me, They just don't care. Because it's not God that I answer to Here. There is no mercy Here. I could go completely insane, rip out my own intestines, stomp them into this murky putrid swamp I now call home, and They would simply smile.

This is my punishment. My torture. I am Prometheus and They are the vultures who eat away at my soul. I must be tormented for eternity for what I have done. I know this.

No, I won't do it this time! I'll change it. I'll save them! There must be a way to redo it all!

But, I can't.

They are already dead, and there's no changing that. No going back. No time machines Here.

Why can't I get a second chance?

Why?

Because there are no second chances, Here.

My hatred and rage begin to bubble deep in my soul. It rises like the flames of an unstoppable fire, waiting to erupt at just the right moment.

*

Gun shots and screams fill the heavy air around me, encasing my senses. The thick smell of gun smoke invades my nostrils, nearly choking me. My heart is pounding hard, almost jumping straight from my chest. Boom-boom! Boom-boom! Tingles of release cover my body at that first shot, like a

newborn taking it's first breath of life. I hear the gunfire again and again, and me screaming and cackling like the mad hatter at a blood filled tea party.

One shot. Bang!

Two. Bang! Bang!

And another. Bang!

Bang!

Ring around the rosy, pockets full of posies.

Ashes. Ashes.

They all fall down, and there is just one bullet left to fire.

BANG!

## 13

"SHUT UP!" I shout at them, "Shut up you bastards! Get out of my head!"

Just shut up, I begin to sob. I cry more and more each time I relive that day. More now, not just because I want all of this to end, but because I'm tired of remembering.

I have so many memories I wish I was able to forget. Erase them as if they never existed. Where's the "delete" button for that?

High school memories would most likely be at the top of the list. They were pretty much all bad in the beginning. Even the ones I first considered to be good, turned out to be some of the worst. Especially those memories that involved John. My playground savior from third grade and once lifelong friend. Once we reached high school, he turned on me. As a rule, friends often change and rearrange through life. This fact in retrospect I was okay with. What I had a hard time coping with was who he became friends with. Of course, who should he turn to? None other than the golden boy himself, JJ. That asshole methodically stole everything that I ever had good in my life. Everything. He stole my self-esteem, my confidence, my best friend! My soul...

God, I hate that guy.

It all started freshman year with John.

That's when the segregation of life and reality really begins to play out. When we are young and naive we all dream of high school as this vast Utopia where we are all friends and walk around hand in hand. In actuality, high schoolers are like packs of wild animals when it comes to friendship. If you stray away from the pack, for any reason at all, you will be cast out and most likely eaten alive. During this time of life, no one strays outside of their circle for fear of being thrown to the wolves. I had always thought of John and I to have our own little circle, but come to find out, I was really alone.

I had no circle, no pack, and I had no friend. I was nothing more than a lame runt left to fend for myself. Nothing but open prey.

## 14

The first couple weeks of freshman year passed quickly. I hadn't been able to talk to John at all since we started. He had gone on vacation with his family the week before school, and I didn't see him when he got back. No one was answering the phone at his dad's, and calling his mom is out of the question. I just figured he was busy with new classes and homework. Plus, he started football this year and had almost non-stop practice. I, myself, had tons of homework. It seemed as though every teacher assumed that their class was the only one you were attending, and therefore, they could pile up as much shit for you to do as possible. It was all a little overwhelming, even for me. My mother tried her best to fill the gaps that John was leaving in order to comfort me, but now that she started working over-time at Lou Ann's, I didn't get to see her much either.

I was finally caught up with my homework and was itching to just chill out, order pizza, and maybe play some games. We used to do this religiously when we were in middle school. I figured John was just as excited to get back to normal as I was.

Just then I saw John strolling down the hallway. I rushed over to him, afraid I might miss him again and have to try calling the house yet one more time.

"Hey, John!" I yelled, but he stayed turned, "John! John!"

Finally he froze in mid stride, bending his head slightly. John turned around slowly. He had a grimaced look on his face. His body was slightly hunched over as though he were about to get sick. I could see the blood slowly drain from his face giving him a ghostlike appearance. I wondered what jerk-off put him in this mood and was already planning on how we would secretly get back at them.

"Hey, Harvey," he said softly, almost in slow motion.

"What happened to you, Man?" I asked.

"Nothing. I'm just having a busy day." he said shortly, quickly starting to turn around again.

I caught his arm slightly, "Oh, well listen, I thought tonight we could rent some movies and just hang out at my house. You know, like we used to on Friday nights. I know I'm dying to hear how stupid the guys on the football team are," I chuckled and gave him a hopeful smile to cheer him up a little. He still looked bummed.

"Hey, did someone do something to you? You can tell me, you know. If you can't talk about it now, you can tell me about it when we hang out. What do you say?" I smiled again.

John looked down at the floor. He took in a long slow deep breath and released it even slower, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. He opened them slowly, as if trying to avoid the reality around him. John peered cautiously down the deserted hallway. I feared he was too embarrassed to tell me what had happened to him that I put my hand on his shoulder. John had shot up so much over the summer that I had to practically stand tip toe just to reach him.

"It's okay, Dude. You can tell me anything," I said reassuringly.

His grimaced face turned into an almost shameful frown as I held my breath. Whatever those guys did to him must have been pretty bad. JJ and his friends hadn't picked on John nearly as much as they did me for two blatant reasons. For one, John was just as big as JJ and could easily have knocked him on his ass if he wanted. The other reason was simply that John wasn't the one they wanted to hurt. Most often he just got caught in the crossfire trying to defend me.

He looked back at me, but still not quite looking me in the eye. His absent stare frightened my core. Dread rose deep in my gut.

"Harvey," he said quietly, "You and I have to have a little chat."

"Sure, Man. What is it? Is everything okay? I mean, whatever JJ did, just ignore that bastard. He's not worth it. We both know that."

"No, Harv, JJ didn't do anything. I mean, not to me anyway. Look, here's the deal. I really don't want to hang out tonight," he said emphasizing each word slowly as though talking to a child.

I shrugged my shoulders, "Hey, that's fine. Maybe we could do it tomorrow night?"

John lowered his head slightly and shook it, "No, I don't think so. I don't think any night will be okay. Do you get me?"

I didn't get him. Why wouldn't any night work? Was he really that busy? I was sure I could help if he was. Just like before. Like we used to.

"Do you have a lot of homework? I can help! Hell, I can probably even do it for you!" I plead pitifully, hoping the deep impending intuition in my gut wasn't right.

"Harvey, I just can't do this anymore. I can't keep spending my weekends watching movies and making fake plans that will never actually happen. Do you understand?"

No, I didn't understand. What the hell is he trying to say? That we're not friends anymore? No. John wouldn't do that to me. We've always been best friends. Maybe he's just having a hard time adjusting to high school. I know I am.

"John...really, whatever is going on, I can..."  
"Harvey, I don't want to be your friend anymore," he said flatly, interrupting me.

It was so blunt. His voice had been as calm as could be, as though we were talking about the weather. It was like this meant nothing to him. Like I was just some random overly talkative stranger whom he was trying to let down easy. Like eight years worth of friendship meant nothing.

I stood silent for a moment, not sure how to react. I wanted to cry, but I also wanted to scream hysterically.

"What do you mean, John?" I played dumb.

This couldn't be true. I'm his best friend! He's got to be fucking joking!

I laughed a little, "You're just joking, right? Ha ha. Let's play one over on Harvey," I laughed nervously again giving him a playful punch to the arm.

John squared his shoulders and this time looked me directly in the eye.

"Harvey, I don't like you. All you do is get me beat up and made fun of. You have no idea how hard it is to be your friend and to constantly stick up for you! I don't know what's wrong with you, but no one else likes you either. I want to have friends, Harvey! I want to be liked for a change!" he said

loudly.

"I am your friend, John," I sighed, staring at the floor, completely ashamed of myself. I could feel the tears welling up in the corner of my eyes, and I begged God to let this all be a dream.

"Not anymore, Harvey."

He turned and walked away without looking back. I could still feel his presence even after he left. The air was thick with his hatred and disgust toward me.

A couple of girls started chatting by their lockers across the hall. They stared at me, smirks glistened across their snobby faces. Tears trickled down my cheeks. I knew they were talking about me, making fun of me. They're always making fun of me.

Their smirks turned into giggles and then outright laughter. I was right.

"Aw, what's the matter, wittle boy? Did that big man hurt your wittle feelings?" they mocked in baby talk as I stood sobbing.

I clenched my fists while wet shame poured down my face.

"Shut up you...you..BITCHES!" I screamed at them and ran down the hall bawling profusely, my throat burning.

Their faces were full of shock, mouths agape, and eyes scornful. How dare I speak to them that way? They were popular and important, and I was nothing. Their salty voices rang down the hallway

as I ran away.

"Get back here, you little shit!" One harped at me, "You're going to get your ass kicked, Carter!"

All I could think was at least they knew my name.

I kept running though. I didn't dare turn around for fear of one, if not both, fulfilling their promise. I couldn't even fend off two high school girls. That's how pathetic I truly was.

John was right. No one liked me. I was crying and hurt not only because I had just lost my best and only friend, but because I knew he was right to leave. I understood that it was hard for him to

defend me all the time. Especially when I didn't know how to defend myself. But still, I thought that was what friends did for each other. I thought friends didn't care about your flaws. I hated to be wrong about that.

That night I ordered a large pepperoni and onion pizza, rented two movies, and turned my TV up so my mother wouldn't realize I was alone.

I tried to forget my hurt and anger, my shame, but it engulfed me. My heart ached with so much grief that I literally wished I could rip it out and throw it in the trash. It was useless anyway.

I stood in front of the mirror staring back at myself for what seemed like hours. Just staring down at my pale skinny body. My thin weak hands. My gaunt pimpled face. Even my blond hair dulled with heartache.

"I hate you!" I cried out.

I held my breath, refusing to let this putrid body keep taking precious air from those more important in life. My vision began to blur with each ticking second. The once pale pink of my skin turned a blush shade of red. It felt as if small bubbles of air were rising inside my brain. My body convulsed for air, fighting me for control. I began to forget about John, about those two bitches in the

hall, about my life. Shadows slowly crept across my vision as the room grew black. Darker and darker.

Boom.

I blacked out.

Blacked out of my forsaken life.

I laid on the floor for more than a few minutes after my head cleared. I just wanted to go to bed and pray to never wake up.

Please, God. Don't let me live another day. I swear, if you don't take my life soon, then I will. Holy Christ. How could anyone ever like me when even I hate myself.

## 15

Ah, those were the days. The "best days of your life", right? Honestly, who came up with that shit? I'm not sure anyone ever considers high school as the best of their life. I certainly wasn't one of them. How can anyone truly think that four years of the constant hell of peer pressure really be the best of their life? If high school was the best of what life had to offer, then I'm quite surprised there are not more suicides after college. My high school days were the worst. Although, Joanna made some of those moments bearable, but in the end it just prolonged the inevitable. I really do miss her though. More than anything.

## 16

Off I go. Off to deliver my vengeful message. My boots scratch heavily against the pavement. The sound is grinding against my eardrums. I feel the cold panic stirring inside me.

Was I being stupid for doing this? What if they are right about me?

More questions raced through my mind.

What if I get caught? What if I chicken out?

What if I actually go through with this?

The last question stuck in my mind. Was I really going to do this?

Yes, of course I was. I couldn't stop now, even had I really wanted to. He has to be punished.

The school door loomed in front of me. Thick heavy glass and steel was all that stood between running back home and entering the building. I paused at the door for only a heartbeat before stepping into the drafty empty hallway.

I took in a deep breath. I peered to the right, then the left. Not a living soul could be seen, however, the muffled roar of teenage chatter could be heard from the cafeteria. That's where I wanted to be, but where I hated the most.

I began walking toward the ever growing sound of casual laughter and nonsense. My footsteps barely making a sound in comparison. I could picture everyone gathered in their respective groups. Each making fun of all the others but secretly wanting to be like each other. Such ironic horse shit. Why couldn't I belong to one of those groups? Why couldn't they just accept me? Am I really that horrible?

Anger boiled inside me. I couldn't tell if it was anger against myself or them. I gripped the icy gun in my hand tightly under my jacket, almost fusing it to my shaky fingers. It felt strong, unbreakable, reassuring. I couldn't back down now. There was no turning back for me. I answered my questions.

I entered the large room slowly, not daring to look anyone in the eye for fear my true intentions would be known. I searched the ocean of kids for JJ. I imagined him sitting at the head of the table slicking back his black gelled hair as he tried to convince everyone of how wonderful he was. What crap!

JJ's red and white letter-man jacket appeared like a beacon through the crowd. Large block letters glowed brightly against the florescent lights. SCHS Football. Our inglorious hero. It was almost pulsating with egotistical smut. Crimson red was the perfect color for JJ. It suited what I had planned for him.

I lifted the gun in slow motion until it reached beyond the fabric of my coat. I gave one more hate-filled glance at JJ. I tilted the gun higher and higher, zeroing in on my target. I closed my eyes tightly. My vision became nothing but red and black.

The room suddenly became thick with silence. Somewhere deep within the caverns of my mind I could just slightly make out a quiet scream. I squeezed my eyes closed tightly, waiting for that one perfect moment. Then with one sweaty finger I closed in on the trigger.

BANG!

## 17

Cold sweat pours down my face in streams, pooling at my feet. Each time gets so difficult I feel as though I will never recover.

What torment! WHY?! Why did I do it? I'm sorry! Please, do you hear me? I'm sorry!

They can't hear me now. No one really hears me anymore. I don't even think They care what I say.

My stomach lurches with nausea, but I know I won't throw up. I wrap my arms tight around my scrawny body and hug. I wish my mother were able to hug me again, to whisper in my ear, "Be strong, Harvey. Things can only get better."

I wish they could get better, Mother. I wish they could.

## 18

I sighed heavily as I waited alone in the lunch line. It had been nearly a month since I had spoken to John. I glanced over at him in the cafeteria. He was chuckling in the direction of another football player making googly eyes at a senior cheerleader. So comfortable in his new found jock status. I had to say it suited him well. It looked as though he truly had moved on. I tried to act like I had too, but I ached from loneliness on the inside.

I watched the lunch ladies spoon my peas and then my pears onto my plate down the assembly line before shoving it into my chest when I reached the end.

Yummy...

I hated school food, but I had no choice. My mom barely scraped by on her meager waitressing salary. She had picked up more hours, but not nearly enough for me to pack my own lunch. Maybe that's why I remained so skinny.

Mom works too hard, I told myself. She had even told me she was considering a second job at Marv's Grocery. I didn't see her much as it was and couldn't imagine not seeing her at all if she started yet another job.

I heaved another sigh and walked toward an empty table.

Splat!

Slimy mashed peas stuck to the side of my face. Green goo clung heavily in the confines of my sandy hair. I stood still for a moment, gathering the strength to turn around. I could hear my mother's words in my ear again, telling me to just "shrug it off". I knew JJ or Mike would be standing behind me about to bust a nut laughing at their brilliant prank.

I scraped the remaining peas off the side of my face and turned myself around.

John's shiny white teeth smirked back at me, wiping peas off his hands. His icy blue eyes, once

laughing with me, now laughed at me with an arrogance I had never known. JJ turned and patted him on the back, but not before giving me a triumphant grin.

I was awestruck. I couldn't move. I couldn't make a sound. I just stood there, staring blankly at my ex best friend as he cleaned his hands of me for good. I wanted to cry again, but luckily I was too horrified for any kind of response.

When the feeling finally returned to my feet, I turned around and sat at the end of a cold gray table. I ate nothing, emptied my tray, and walked out.

## 19

John Lennon once said, "All you need is love". In some aspects he was right. Love can change everything. It can make you want to move mountains, wish on falling stars, and stop to smell the roses. It can open your eyes to all the possibilities there are to keep living for in the world. But, I've realized after years of reflection while being hopelessly locked up Here, despite the grand power of love and all its glory, sometimes, it just can't stop the inevitable.

In my case, even more so, because it only fueled the already raging fire.

God, I miss Joanna.

## 20

I could just barely make out the soft steady tapping coming from the back door. I checked the clock.

11:32 pm.

She's early. As usual.

I turned down the volume on the TV and tossed the remote on the couch. It landed with a hard heavy thud against the tattered cushion.

My heart pounded a little faster as I shuffled toward the door. I tried to slow down my anxious pace, afraid to come across too eager. Even after all these weeks I still feel like a giddy little boy.

My fingers gripped the scratched brass colored door handle tightly. I squeezed the knob slightly, trying to steady my overactive nervousness before opening the door.

Deep breath. Deep breath. Calm down, you idiot!

A gentle creek rang through the night as I opened the worn wooden door. The night air was cool and damp, steaming slightly as it hit the warmth from within the house. The air outside was thick with mystery. The darkness filled with infinite possibilities.

Out of that darkness there she stood, my light, like the answer to my prayers. Her tan hoodie clutched tightly around her small frame. She had her hands shoved deep in the pockets of her dark denim jeans. Her brown sketchers bouncing up and down as she tried to keep warm in the crisp chilly air. She smiled brightly up at me despite the fact that she was shivering uncontrollably. That million dollar smile that somehow made everything else go away.

"You're early."

"No. I'm just not late."

I smiled back like a love sick puppy and reached out to her. My hand gently grabbed her arm,

pulling her toward me. I squeezed her ever so slightly against my chest, breathing in the intoxicating lavender scent of her skin. Her long corn silk hair brushed against my face like a delicate wave. Time vanished as I held her close, the solidity of her existence comforting every fiber of my being. Only she was able to both excite and calm the butterflies that fluttered aimlessly in the pit of my stomach in her presence.

I was lost in that idyllic moment. She laid her head softly against my shoulder, fitting so absolutely perfect, and let out a faint content moan. The slightest of smiles creeping across her porcelain face.

" I love you."

"Ditto."

## 21

I let out a long heavy sigh filled with guilt, shame, and remorse. Just when I'm sure my self loathing couldn't possibly get any worse. It does.

What the hell have I done?

## 22

That worthless son of a bitch!

"You hear me, JJ? You are the worthless piece of shit! Yeah, you can hear me, can't you? I know you can."

I take in a hard sharp, almost painful breath. My jaw so taught my teeth grate roughly against each other, close to breaking. Hot bubbling rage begins to rise from the tips of my cold toes up to my feverish head. The heat of my anger erupting all that surrounds me as I burned from hatred.

I'd gladly kill that fucker over and over again for eternity just for one assurance that he feels that pain repeatedly.

"Oh Jacky boy, we've got a long road ahead of us."

Such a long, long road.

I wonder if his putrid soul can handle the journey. I wonder if mine can.

If he can, and I can't, does that make him the better man or me?

## 23

A sudden deafening thud sang loudly in the caverns of my right ear as a thick-fisted hand plowed straight into the side of my head. Ringing echoed throughout my brain followed by the throbbing pang of nerves screaming in pain up one side of my face and down the other. I stopped dead in my tracks and cringed, clutching my ear tightly.

"Watch where you're walking, Carter! Your face was in the way of my fist!" A deep booming arrogant sound managed to bore its way through the pain in my ear and straight to the pit of my stomach.

JJ. I should have known.

I pushed my palm harder against my head trying to force out the sound of his menacing voice. My bag slowly dropped to floor with a heavy bang. There went my ceramic bowl from pottery class. I imagined the tiny bits of fragments floating aimlessly in my backpack, searching for a way to reconnect. My confidence felt like those fragments right now. I wanted to somehow glue myself together and stand up to this asshole, strong and unbreakable, but reality showed me otherwise. I glanced up slightly hoping he was simply walking away from his dirty deed, but no such luck. JJ peered down, watching me writhe in pain, waiting for my pieces to crack and break. Why does he enjoy this so much? Why does he hate me?!

An evil grin spread slowly across his smug face as he bent down, hovering above me. He leaned in close. I could smell the stolen liquid courage he had downed in the back parking lot earlier mixed with the gas station mints wafting through the air around him. Who was he trying to kid anyway?

"You're such a worthless piece of crap, Carter. You should do the world a favor and just jump off a bridge. My dad says you and your mother are nothing more than a black mark on society. You're mom's a whore, and you're nothing but a bastard. If I had a chance, Carter, I'd get rid of you myself," his voice practically whispered the last words in my still ringing ear.

Hatred and rage bubbled down in the core of my soul. How dare he? Every cell in my body screamed to avenge my mother's honor against this ogre of a boy. Who was he calling a black mark? His very ignorance and lack of intelligence seemed more of a black mark than my mother or myself. Whore, huh? He should take a long look at his father for that one. Everyone knows what a piece of shit womanizer he is. What a joke he was! You'll end up just like you're daddy, JJ. I could imagine his life in ten years. No more Friday night lights for you, Jacky! No more cheerleaders! No more free passes! Nothing but a fat-assed wife with five kids, a mortgage, and a pay-nothing job working for Daddy at the car dealership!

My face grew flush with anger as I returned his gaze, trying to fight off the intense throbbing in my head. I straightened myself up in front of him as much as I could muster without passing out from a combination of anguish and fury.

My bony fingers curled tightly into a ball, ready for a fight. JJ and I stared intently at each other for what seemed like hours. The hallway, filled with passing students, drifted away. Laughter and casual conversations disappeared with each passing second. This was it. The "showdown" I had always dreamed of. This was my chance to stop this shit once and for all.

I raised up, clenched my fist tighter, pulled back, and swung with all my might.

I felt the wind surge across my skin as my fist flew through the air like a bullet. I let out a strong, courageous cry of war just before hitting my target.

Thump!

My punch barely shook JJ's stocky body as my fist landed hard into his chest. He stood firm

and unmoving in front of me. I was like a fly trying to attack a lion. Defeat and shame exploded across my face as I looked back at him. JJ appeared stunned, but not deterred. His lips curled into a half snarl, half smile, eyebrows furrowed, jaw clenched.

JJ had to barely touch me before I fell to the ground. His enormous fist struck me hard in the

chest, knocking the wind out of me. I choked, clutching my stomach trying to get air into my deflated lungs while fending off the wave of nausea now rummaging my body. I crumpled to floor like a used napkin, feeling just as worthless. A looming dark object encased my vision as JJ's black boot pummeled me right in the face. Warm blood gushed from the confines of my nostrils, oozing to the floor. Shouts and hollers erupted all around us as I remembered that we were not alone in the hallway. I coughed, spraying blood down my shirt and on JJ's boots.

"Ugh! Damn it!" was the last sound I heard before the thick odor of leather came riveting toward my bruised and battered face again.

JJ kicked me square in the jaw. The hard rubber sole of his boot crushed against the side of my face. I could feel my teeth grind against each other, the screeching of tooth on tooth became deafening as it merged with my internal screams of agony. I could feel the tendons stretch to capacity as my face smeared between JJ's boot and the smooth waxed linoleum of the school floor. The sickly, sweet-sour smell of the Orange Glo polish overwhelmed my senses. A surge of hot-cold tingled up and down my body as sweat broke out across my forehead, mixing with the sticky warm blood still racing down my nose. My stomach lurched forward spilling the contents of my government funded school lunch all over the once shiny floor. What once were shrieks of joy over watching a fight quickly turned to cries of disgust as I continued to vomit in the crowded hall.

Teachers from every room of the building began pouring out of their classrooms, fighting through the scrambling crowd. JJ took this as his cue to vacate himself from the scene of the crime. I

watched through tear and blood filled eyes as he disappeared into the chaos.

I lay broken and defeated in my own blood and vomit, surrounded by peers and adults who gazed at me with sad pity.

Some defender of honor I was. What was the damn point anymore of even trying?

*

I could still feel the hot wet of blood and puke sticking to my face even now. The putrid acidic odor invading my senses fueling my nausea. I spent three hours at the hospital that day getting checked over by rude nurses and know it all doctors who only pretended to care. I ended up with a concussion, a broken nose, and two chipped teeth. That was one of the worst things JJ had ever done to me, physically anyway. But by far not the worst though. I still haven't quite come to terms with that demon just yet.

How pathetic I must have looked to him then. I wonder if it was anything like he looked to me on that day...

## 24

They always say, "it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all", but what they fail to tell you is that the pain of losing that love is sometimes more intense than any physical damage could ever be. It is why they call it a crush, right?

*

I sat quietly in the corner of the room. Last desk in the last row. The story of my life. English was an easy subject for me so this was my favorite class to mentally escape in. In that back corner was sometimes my only refuge during the day. JJ had the great fortune of repeating sophomore English this semester and therefore was not able to enlighten me with his presence in class. I was never so thankful for his stupidity as I was those last couple of years in high school.

My used copy of Hamlet lay untouched on my worn out desk. I'd read it twice before in junior high. The lagging discussion by my classmates was pointless to me. The girls were disappointed that we were not reading Romeo and Juliet, and the boys were only pretending to know anything about the book to impress the rather busty, young, first year teacher, Miss Clary. I could have cared less about either.

I pondered taking steroids as a minute possibility to free my current physical state to coincide with my diminishing acne and apparent high cheek bones, when fate struck me like lightening.

Still mentally unaware of my surroundings, I realized I was nodding my head in agreement long before I knew what I was agreeing to. As the fog of my imaginary journey lifted, the reality that Joanna Fairley was talking to me slammed me against a brick wall. She was knee deep in an intense conversation with me and I had no clue what the subject was. Embarrassed by my stupidity, I just kept

nodding, feeling at least a yes to everything she said was better than no response at all. With Joanna, even after all these years, I would agree to almost anything she said anyway.

"Well?" she asked looking intently at me for a answer.

Oh shit, was all I could muster to think. I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. I thought about nodding my head again, but knew that would instantly give me away.

She dropped her head slightly, her stare boring a little deeper into mine. The soft tapping of her pencil was the only noise between us for what seemed like eternity. She scrunched up her eyebrows accusingly.

"You have no idea what I just said, do you?"

I was struck dumb. I wanted to tell her the truth, but feared I'd just piss her off. The odds were not in my favor yet again. Imagine that. I decided to go for broke.

"I'm sorry. Really. I wasn't paying attention. It's kind of my only escape of the day in this class so I guess I take advantage of that."

Did I really just tell Joanna Fairley that I have to "escape" during the day? What the hell was I thinking?

Suddenly feeling deflated for ousting myself, I instantly regretted what I had said, until she smiled at me.

"I don't blame you. You deserve a break. JJ can be such a jerk," Her face slightly flushed as her smiled broadened. I then realized her eyes were the most unique shade of brown and green. Hypnotic even. Strange, I had never actually looked her in eye before.

Speechless was the only way to describe the feeling,

"Um..so...I asked you why you weren't sitting in the front row with the rest of the guys. I know

you're really smart, and Miss Clary is very pretty, you know," she smiled again lowering her gaze, the red tint on her cheeks spreading like wild fire. I don't remember ever seeing Joanna look so intimidated before.

"Thanks, yeah, I guess so," I stammered, both shocked and intrigued by the compliment and that she would ask me such a question. I obviously didn't sit up front because I wasn't welcomed to and not because I couldn't hold a decent discussion. I was pretty sure she knew that, but I pressed on.

"She's not really my type."

"Oh," she replied lightly, her cheeks now blazing, " So, what is your type?"

My heart raced uncontrollably. I was sure she could see it bounding through my thin t-shirt, practically bursting through my chest. My face grew hot and cold at the same time, a huge smiled spreading across my face. I tried forcing it back, but failed miserably. I choked a bit trying to catch my breath before answering. I wasn't smooth or cunning when it came to girls. I had never been on a date and barely talked to any girls at all, let alone ones who were completely out of my league. James Bond was never a hero of mine, and at this moment I wished on every fiber of my being that I had spent more time watching Golden Eye than I had watching Star Wars. I opened my mouth, about to say I didn't really have a type, but suddenly changed my mind. I stared back into those hazel eyes and did the impossible.

"You are."

##

## 25

Warm streams of hot salty tears run down my face. My heart wants to die at every thought of her. Times like this I blame JJ for what ended up happening that day. Deep down, through the dark tunnel of my conscious I tell myself that it's all his fault. I really wish that were true. If I could just convince myself that this was all a result of solely him, perhaps I could live with myself. As crazy as it seemed at the time, I should have just walked away, ran away actually. I should have just let it go and moved on like normal people do, but how do you move on from something like that? Could I really have been expected to move on? Could she?

## 26

BANG!

It was as if firecrackers and bombs had exploded in every confine of my mind all at once. Screams ignited throughout the cafeteria. Panic clogged the air. My ears rang uncontrollably from the loud echo of the gun shot. I let out a slow sigh. It was so easy, so easy to pull the trigger. I laughed slightly at the sheer simplicity of it all. Then I opened my eyes in anticipation, but they opened to a picture of surreal pandemonium I could not comprehend. I had hit a target, but it was the wrong one.

## 27

"I think I hate that guy just as much as you do anymore."

"I find that hard to believe."

Joanna sat comfortably next to me on my mother's worn, coffee colored couch. She was wrapped tightly in a cocoon of blankets with my arms wrapped tighter around her as we stared uninterested at the late night horror movie playing on TV. It was below freezing outside, but my mother insisted on keeping the heat down to cut costs. It used to bother me, but lately, it's worked in my favor. The sweet coconut scent of her hair engulfed my every thought as she cuddled closer. All I wanted was to be in this quiet moment with her forever. Away from school, away from our parents, and especially away from JJ.

She squeezed my arm slightly, her hand warm and soft. I looked back into the fathoms of her brown-green eyes.

"What do you think I should do?"

I wish we could talk about something else right now. Anything else.

"Just ignore him," I sighed, "Paying any attention to that moron only gives him more reason to be a jerk. He thrives on making other people miserable. Look what he does to me for Christ sakes! Have you tried telling your parents?"

"Yes, but you know how my dad is with Jack. He thinks he's God or something. He never listens to me about it, and when I think he does all he says is that I should be flattered. I swear, my dad kisses his butt like it's strawberry candy."

We both chuckled a little. Joanna's dad, Seth, and Jack Sr. were co-workers at Bob's Auto Mart. Jack Sr. was Seth's boss and therefore his "best friend". Unfortunately, that only meant JJ could do no wrong in Seth's eyes. And this fact was the biggest reason why I was Joanna's dirty little secret.

Joanna breathed deeply and let out a long thoughtful sigh. Her eyes darkened with unrelenting worry. I could tell this was really getting to her. Perhaps this situation was more serious than I thought. I wish I knew how to reassure her that JJ is full of smoke. She says she has faith in me to protect her, but I feel so weak and unworthy right now. A real boyfriend would know how to handle this. A real boyfriend would walk straight up to that bastard, punch him right in the face, and tell him to screw off. I, on the other hand, could do nothing. Nothing. What the hell does she see in me?

## 28

"Please, please just let me die. Just get it over with," I plead quietly to the still, empty, frigid air. No one answers back. No one Here cares that I want to die. I know I deserve this. I deserve all of this. God, I want to take it back! I want to take it all back. At this point I don't care what happened to me in school, just as long as I didn't feel like this anymore. If someone had told me then that as soon as you leave high school, none of what happens there ever really matters to you anymore, I would have thought they were delusional. Or perhaps one of those lucky ones who skated by high school with no more than a scratch or a bruise on their ego. I wish I had been one of those lucky ones, able to just move on.

No moving on Here.

No smiling Here.

No laughing Here.

No joking Here.

No living...Here.

Isolated from happiness. Forced to feel cold and alone.

"Oh, Mother, what have I become?"

I'm utterly ashamed to think of what her soft accepting blue eyes would see when they gazed upon the gaunt figure that looms in the shadows that was once her little boy.

JJ was right all along. I am nothing but a black mark. If only there were an eraser big enough to rid the world of me. Even through all my brilliance I couldn't manage to make anything go right. Everyone around me suffered, and no matter how hard I tried, I failed them. I failed them! I'm a failure!

A failure and a fraud. When I should have been able to offer safety and security, I offered nothing but disappointment. I failed my mother, John, and Joanna. At some point they relied on me and I let them down. Yes, I deserve to be Here. As the old saying goes, "if I only knew then what I know now".

What would I do different now that I do know? In actuality would I really have done anything different?

Yes. I'd like to think so. I'd like to think deep down I'm not a monster. Yet, bit by tormented bit I was pieced together with every scornful "joke" they pulled on me. Stillwater High School's own personal Frankenstein. Stitched together inch by inch, each person adding a little at a time until finally, the monster was completed. All I needed was that one final lightening storm to bring me to life.

Why did he do it? Why did he have to push me? Why couldn't he just leave things the hell alone? Why couldn't he just let me be happy? Why!?

Where are the torches and pitchforks when you need them?

## 29

"Harvey, Honey, it's time to get ready for school."

I stood half dressed in the doorway. My mom sat slumped over the kitchen table, tired and exhausted. Dark circles encompassed her light blue eyes. She was quietly sipping her coffee with two creams and four sugars. I hesitated slightly as I began to approach the table, the cracked linoleum cold and hard through my tattered socks. I'd been planning this moment for weeks, but was unsure if I could bring myself to do it. Had it not been for our recent family tree project in school I might never have worked up the courage to do so in the first place. My project was a botched piece of fabrication that I'm sure everyone was able to see right through.

The blank stare on my mother's face made her look vulnerable and beaten. I was scared, but if it was going to happen, it had to happen now.

"Where's my father?" I said shakily, almost stuttering.

My mother never moved, never put down her coffee, never stopped staring at the paint chipped wall.

"He's gone." she said bluntly.

That's all she ever said when anyone asked where he was. He had to be somewhere. I wanted to know, needed to know.

"Where did he go?"

Still lifeless, she uttered, "back home," just slightly above a faint whisper.

Well, that was start! She had never said that before! All I needed now was to find out where he lived.

"Where's home?"

"Not here."

"Yeah, but where? What town? Maybe I can find him? Maybe he's looking for us too?" I began firing question after question, getting louder and louder as my excitement grew.

"No, Harvey. He's...he's not. He knows right where we are. He's not looking for us. We're better off without him anyway."

My stomach dropped. If he knew where we were why hadn't he come to visit? Or called? Why hadn't he ever even seen me? Didn't he care?

I ran toward her, mouth open and ready to ask, when she cut me off.

"Harvey, I said no!" she put her hand up in front of my face angrily, stopping me quick. I knew the hand meant business, but a kid needs to know!

"But, Mom..."

She shook her head in quiet frustration.

"Damn it, Harvey! No!" she screamed. It takes a lot to make her crack, but any conversation involving my father easily broke her. I suddenly felt a wash of guilt come over me as I realized I had done just that in record time.

She stood up from the table and stormed off to her room. Her coffee left untouched on the table, still steaming. I had gone eight years of my life not having a dad. The crushing reality that I never will brought pools of hot tears to my eyes.

I stood in the cold kitchen longer than I should have, my courage deflated. By the time I was dressed and out the door, I was already ten minutes late to my 3rd grade class. Today, I didn't care. Today, I didn't care about anything.

## 30

I often wonder what the old man thinks of me now. Now that I'm trapped Here. I'm sure all it's done is justify every rotten thought he's ever had of me since hearing of my existence. Worthless, unwanted, the destroyer of dreams. That son of a bitch is probably kicking up his heals, dancing for joy now that I'm Here. I guess in the end, we both got a little piece of what we wanted. The only real loser in this game was my mom. I wonder if he had ever cared about her at all.

## 31

The smooth hard steel grew warm in my hand. Small puffs of hot smoke rose seductively out of the barrel of the gun. Everyone began to scatter like rats from a sinking ship. The screeching chaos consuming the cafeteria became barely audible as my concentration zoned in on JJ. He hid, cowering under the table like a scared rabbit.

I was mortified. Why was he not writhing in pain? I just shot him for fuck's sake!

Peering just to the right of JJ's quivering form, lay a scrawny, lifeless body.

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no! This isn't supposed to be happening!

My hands started to tremble as I began to lose my nerve. I strolled quickly over to Thomas Walt's dead body. How did I miss JJ? How did this happen?

Mike began to cry hard child-like tears as I peered at the body. His lips quivering uncontrollably as his bugged out eyes took in the gory scene in front of his face.

"Why'd you push him, Man? Why?" he whimpered hysterically, hugging his knees close to his now shaking body as he stared past me. I turned my head, following his gaze.

JJ's usual calm arrogant face turned a powdery white as Mike pointed an accusatory finger in his direction. He began shaking his head back and forth in exaggerated disagreement. Mike's fat finger kept steadily aimed at JJ as I walked closer.

"You saying JJ pushed him?"

His incessant bawling grew louder and louder, tears now mixing with snot as he cried nodding his head. Anger and overwhelming fury spilled over deep inside my heart as my hatred for JJ grew to unholy proportions. Mike's pathetic groveling only pushed me farther over the edge. Hard to imagine this piece of shit sobbing at my feet was an unsympathetic monster only days before. He had been in on it too, after all.

My heart ached for poor Thomas. He didn't deserve this. I swallowed hard, trying desperately to accept the gravity of my actions, sure that I was going straight to Hell for this one. Yet, it was so easy for me to pull the trigger. A slight flick of the finger and it was lights out, Gracie. Screams grew immensely all around me, so loud I nearly went deaf. I ignored them, ignored Thomas, ignored Mike's wretched weeping just as they had all ignored me. Their pain meant nothing to me now.

Bang! Bang!

I shot Mike twice in the chest. The first one made a minute almost perfect cylindrical hole in the front of his neon green shirt just above the giant toilet declaring, "Life's a potty." The second shot, not so pretty, had ripped the flesh from his heaving sobbing body. Splatters of red oozing blood clung to the wall behind him mixing with fragments of his shirt giving the smooth walls of the cafeteria a Jackson Pollack like appearance of scarlet and green. A choking gurgle escaped his throat as his heart beat for the last time, a slim red river flowing slowly down the side of his mouth as he toppled to the floor. A still, crumpled slump was all that was now left of JJ's second in command.

Gazing around I watched as my classmates, my "peers", my "equals", all ran down the panic stricken hallways trying desperately to escape me. Intensity overcame me, and my heart beat out of control. My eyes blurred, my stomach lurched, my head whirled like a merry-go-round. My head kept spinning and spinning and spinning. I fought off the wave of nausea and fear creeping up my spine.

My head slowly stopped. I turned around.

A large figure suddenly enveloped my vision. It was John. Horrified and scared as all the rest of the lackeys. His eyes were blood-shot and fearful. Their blue tint almost fading completely.

A brief moment of nostalgia washed across my soul. His eyes begged me to stop. I lowered the gun, letting it hang limp in my hand, dangling vulnerably at my side. I stared back into his pale

terrified face, seeing nothing but shameful, apologetic fear. The same fear I had felt every day of my life growing up because of people like JJ. The same hurtful guilt ridden fear that had kept me prisoner for so long. John, of all people, knew this fear just as much as I had. Not only knew it, but understood it.

John dropped to his knees heavily in front of me, head down. He wasn't going to stop me.

A soft warm hand gently touched my shoulder from behind, calming my nerves, bringing me back from the past.

"It's almost over, Harvey."

## 32

I have always found it quite ironic how people used to tell me to move on, get over it, deal with it. Yeah, I dealt with it in the end. I made them see. Made them all see how wretched their souls really were. In a way, I think I saved them. Without me they would have continued to bully people their entire lives. Year after year. Decade after decade. Tormenting, torturing, belittling those they deemed unworthy. Yes, I did the world a justice. I saved all those poor unfortunates the shame of being harassed by arrogant assholes who, more often than not, were actually the weaker links.

Yes, I am a savior.

I am a savior, right?

## 33

Dear God, I think I'm losing it. Nothing seems right to me anymore. Am I justified or simply an unjust demon? Why can't I see clearly anymore? My memories are so sporadic that I am losing any notion of past and present. Did that just happen or had it happened years ago? Thoughts and actions melting together in swirling uncontrolled chaos. What's happening to me?!

*

My mother sat weeping quietly at the cracked kitchen table. Her frail hands combing comfortingly through her dulling raven hair. I stood motionless in the shadows of the hallway. I could tell it had been yet another failed first date. One of seemingly hundreds these days. Why is she doing this to herself? I wondered.

My mother had recently perked a new found interest in dating again. Well, not exactly again. Actually, I can't even say I remembered her dating all that much before now. Despite her lack of practice in the wide world of love, she suddenly acted like it was now or never and responded to almost every offer that came her way. Unfortunately, even though her enthusiasm seemed genuine to the outside world, inside I knew she didn't really want to find someone else. Her heart still belonged to my long lost father, though she'd never admit it. This lack of subconscious knowledge or acceptance on her part now lead to disastrous and self destructive first and last dates.

Tonight's contestant had been Vern Meyer. He was a local guy who she met shopping at Marv's. Vern went shopping every Saturday morning to buy exactly $20 in groceries, never less, never more. He wasn't what anyone would call handsome, that's for sure. He was shiny bald, not a stitch of hair on his head. Vern was a touch on the heavy side and barely stood a few inches taller than my mother, which she discovered when she decided to wear heels. He was quiet, very articulate when he spoke, and all in all a pretty nice guy. However, unbeknownst to my mother, good-natured, shy Vern was a huge religious fanatic and spent the majority of the date trying to convince my atheist mother to "save" her soul and repent. Needless to say the only thing she repented was Vern's advances at the door when he walked her home.

Thus, the sobbing mess slumped over the table just ten feet from where I stood. I debated on whether or not to approach her. I wanted to comfort her and tell her he wasn't good enough anyway,

but feared I'd only embarrass her by acknowledging I had caught her crying.

I opted to just leave her be, whether or not that was the right choice. I watched her just a few extra minutes as she lay her head on her arm and cried herself into a quiet sleep. Deep sorrow boiled within me. I wanted to find my father, shake him as hard as I could, and then smear his worthless ass into the wet salty ground my mother continues to cry over because of him. Why she still cares after all these years is constantly beyond me. I just don't see how you can let someone consume you like that. How do you let one person determine the outcome of your entire life? I'm never going to let someone do that to me. No one will be that important that I'd live through the hell she does. No one.

*

Oh how naive I was then! To think, I actually believed that I'd never fall in love. To be quite honest, I'm sure no one else thought I would either. That was one misconception I was glad they were wrong about.

## 34

JJ opened the wedding white door of his two story home with a gleaming smile on his face. That smile quickly fading as his eyes came into focus on my bony fist heading straight for his head. I made instant contact with the top of his puffy cheekbone, almost crushing my fingers in hot pain. A suffocated choke spewed out of JJ's mouth as I pushed my hand through his face. JJ rocked back only slightly, his hand touching his face tenderly, fire now erupting in his eyes. I could tell he was still in shock as his puny brain tried to comprehend his next move. Should he punch me back or slice me with an insult? I didn't wait for him to make up his mind before I struck again. This time my left hand drew up like a rocket, slamming hard into the corner of his chin. I could hear that familiar sound of grinding bones as his teeth made contact with each other. This time, JJ not only rocked, but nearly fell to the ground. This was my chance.

"It's all over for you now, Asshole. I'm going to fucking kill you," I said firmly and stormed off the front steps in a relieved hurry.

I had said those words many a time in my life with no true intentions. This time I meant it with every inch of my flesh. I wondered if JJ was able to tell the difference.

## 35

Thomas's frozen corpse wilted into the blood stained linoleum. His crimson blood fusing with Mike's in a sickening dance of hot liquid meeting cool air. JJ was still shaking as he sat transfixed on their soulless bodies. Who was once supposed to be my one and only target, I now realized was going to have to be my last. Except...

A gentle hand caressed my shoulder as I gathered my thoughts back to the task at hand.

John.

John, who had once been my friend.

John, who had once been my best friend.

John, who had once been a brother to me.

Now, his life was in my hands. The choice I made right now, in this moment, would make all the difference. Would I choose to kill the only friend I had ever had or spare his insolence and give him another chance to redeem himself to the world.

Tick tock, Harvey. The fuzz is sure to be on their way by now.

I drew in a deep breath, ready to answer that question of not what I was killing, but what I was allowing to let live. Did he deserve to live?

"This is your decision, Harvey," a soft voice whispered through my thoughts.

John didn't cry, didn't beg me for mercy, he didn't even look me in the eye.

"Get the fuck out of here," I said flatly.

I couldn't quite tell if it was relief or perhaps guilt that washed over John's face as I spoke. I believe deep down he was truly sorry for turning his back on me. Perhaps he even missed me as a friend as I did him. Either way, I felt after all these years, he was still a good guy. One of the best in my book, even after leaving me behind.

John rose slowly, half expecting me to change my mind. He just stood there, vacant. I could feel his anguish that had built up over the past few years. The shamefulness he felt within himself now radiating as he stood to die.

"Shoot me, Harvey,"

"Leave, John! Just leave!" I screamed.

"No, I can't! I knew, Man. I knew!" he called back, sobs now slowly being released through his tough exterior.

My face grew hot as all the anger building in me made a last ditch effort to burst from my body. I tried not to believe him, even now, and to just let him go, but he persisted.

"Please, Harvey, just kill me! I knew what they were going to do to her, and I didn't stop them. I didn't stop it! Hell, I was supposed to join in!" he peered beside me with bloodshot tear-filled eyes, "I'm so sorry for what happened to you! I'm so sorry! I should have done something! I should have told! I should have stopped it! Please tell him to kill me! Please! I don't deserve to live!"

I was awestruck by his confession and deeply heartbroken at the same time. I closed my eyes as moist tears trickled down my cheeks. She knew just as well as I did that I couldn't kill him, even had I intended on it.

"Get down on your knees, Maggot!" I screamed in his face. He cowered like a beaten dog, weeping uncontrollably at my feet.

John slumped to floor, his mess of tears leaving dark round droplets on his pant legs. He hung his head in shame as I stuck his own gun against the top of his head.

"You were my friend," I said softly.

John cried out louder, choking on his spit as he bawled. Drool began to gather in pools on the

floor below him.

I lifted the gun as more screams filled the echoing room around us. I brushed my hand across the dampness on my face, flicking sweat from the tips of my fingers.

"Are you ready to die, Maggot?" I shouted hoarsely.

John cried out sharply. The shame in his voice seeped achingly through my bones.

"Aaagghhh!" I growled, swinging my arm hard and fast, striking him on the back of head with a deafening thud. John moaned slightly and dropped peacefully to the ground. I nudged my hand into the pocket of John's flannel shirt.

Good night, Sweet Prince.

"You did the right thing."

"I know."

## 36

I spared John that day. That single act still stands as the one choice I do not regret. Not only had I spared the life of my once best friend, but also sentenced him to a lifetime of emotional punishment having to live with himself after all he had done. Two birds with one stone, I guess.

I wonder if he thinks about me anymore? He's forced himself to stop talking to me. The new meds must be helping. I don't blame him. Most days I wouldn't want to talk to me either, but it doesn't mean I'm not just a little curious. I've thought about John a lot over the last few years I've spent Here. The brief memories that have seeped up are mostly ones of regret and shame after he abandoned our friendship, but there are those few that slip in, unnoticed, that always bring a smile to my skeletal face. Sweet memories of uncharted imaginations running a muck and wild, tearing down the walls of the troubled realities we would otherwise endure. We were like two peas in a pod, kindred spirits, we were Batman and Robin for Christ sakes!

No matter what he did, he was still my best friend. Even had he joined JJ that night, somehow, I think I'd still forgive him. It sounds so crazy to admit it, but it's true. Even when he turned his on me, I still had his back.

Perhaps that small fragment of truth is one of but a few rare pieces of evidence I have to argue for my humanity. If ever I begin to give in to the constant whispers that I am nothing more than a demon, all I have to do is think of those little moments. I never said that I was a great human, just that I am one.

## 37

My feet shuffled back and forth as I waited outside John's house. I could hear his parents arguing loudly from the living room, wafting outside to where I stood. Not much could be understood, but the hatred in their voices was clear as day. I felt bad for John when they fought. I think he thought it was his fault for some reason that they fought, but I knew some people just didn't belong together. My mother was a firm believer in that. Just as I was about to walk down the street, John emerged from the door. Shame and embarrassment painted sadly across his face. I decided against asking what the fight was about this time and tried to play it off like I hadn't heard.

"So, you wanna go play some catch at my place?"

John sighed in relief and nodded his head.

We walked down the street side by side, but as emotionally distant as the moon and sun. I shoved my hands deep in my pockets and kicked some rocks as we strolled the few blocks to my house. I peered at John's solemn form beside me. Quiet crystal tears rolled down his cheeks.

I stopped walking. I couldn't take this anymore.

"John, your parents are stupid. None of what they do is ever your fault. They just suck," I finished my rant in a huff and waited for John's rebuttal.

The tears down John's cheeks began to dry in the warm breeze. Suddenly John lunged forward and hugged me tightly. He squeezed my torso so hard I couldn't breathe.

"John...John...," I choked out weakly.

"Oh, sorry," he laughed as he let go. I coughed heavily, my lungs burned slightly as the air seeped back into them.

John lowered his head, "You're a great friend, Harv. I'm not sure what I'd ever do without you."

I blushed idiotically at the compliment. I could easily say the same thing about John since he was the only friend I had ever had. I settled for a punch to his arm instead of any sort of vocal thanks.

"Hey now!" he joked rubbing his arm. I knew I hadn't hurt him, but I was thankful he tried to build my self esteem anyway.

"Alright, enough of this baby shit. Let's go," he said smiling and shoving me as we started back towards my house again.

## 38

"You want to see something cool?"

I could feel his eagerness filling every inch of his spacious bedroom. John was practically jumping out of his skin to reveal another one of his "secret" presents. Since John's parents had split last year, his father's presents were often kept secret from his mom. These secret presents were mostly highly expensive and highly dangerous items that no parent in their right mind would ever let their hormone fueled preteen come anywhere near, except those that are desperately seeking love and affection only to hurt their ex. John's dad was such a man.

John's half shaky, excited arms reached deep under the confines of his bed, grabbed a heavy dark object, and rose slowly. I peered down under the bed, now intrigued more than ever that John had to hide his new gift even though we were in his father's new house in which normal rules didn't apply. The light glinted over shiny metal as John's face glued itself to mine waiting to see my reaction, a cartoonish smile spread across his face. I craned my neck closer to John's bed and instantly froze as his secret gift was finally revealed.

John stared impatiently, waiting for me to say something. I was speechless, mouth agape. The blood drained out of my head and straight to my toes, rendering me almost incapable of any kind of mindful reaction.

"Well? What do you think? Isn't it the coolest?!"

I half nodded half gurgled a semi reasonable answer, sufficient enough for John to lose focus on my reaction and concentrate instead on the thick shiny metallic handgun waving aimlessly in his knobby hand. He grabbed it with both hands and began randomly aiming at objects around his room, pretending to be a gangster.

"Pop, pop!" he bellowed, a diabolical smile smeared across his face.

"John, are you sure that's a good thing to have around? I mean, neither one of us knows anything about guns."

He rolled his eyes, slightly annoyed at my lack of enthusiasm, "Listen, my dad says it's cool as long as I keep it just in my room. It's harmless, Harvey. Please, just trust me. Look, it's not even loaded! I keep the bullets in my drawer. Nothing to worry about, okay?"

I nodded silently, hoping he would put the gun away and just forget about it like all the rest of his new "toys". I thought quickly as to how to remove myself from the situation without hurting his feelings.

"So, I'm starving, can we get something to eat?"

John glanced at me with a vacant uncomprehending expression. He slowly came back down to Earth as my question began to sink in. He glanced down at the glimmering gun in his hand. A thick quiet fell over the room as he contemplated whether or not to put it down. After a long hesitation, John bent over and replaced the gun back under his bed. I let out a heavy sigh of relief and smiled as he stood back up.

"What are you hungry for?" he smiled broadly, almost seeming to be ignorant of the potential killer hiding just a few feet away under the skirt of his bed.

"You know me. I'm not picky, whatever you got," I said reassuringly as we left the room.

I followed John's lead, glancing back ever so slightly at the dark foreboding shadows that held the gun. Worry rose in the pit of my stomach as we walked out the door.

*

Not a day goes by that I don't rue the day I laid eyes on that damn thing. I regret even more my glorious plan to make the world a safer place by stealing it the following week when the newness had

finally worn off. John, luckily, had moved on to admiring the new gaming system his father had bribed him with to ever notice that it went missing. I kept it locked away in the dark caverns of my closet for years. Lying silent and dormant like an ancient plague waiting for the perfect person to infect and wreak havoc on humanity.

I hate John's father even still for all of his "gifts" to John.

I hope he knows it was his gun.

## 39

Hot tears moisten my dry chalky cheeks, leaving dark streams down the center before finally dropping and disappearing into the thick emptiness below me. I miss them all so much. I want things to go back to the way they used to be, when John and I were friends. When life didn't seem quite so overwhelming due only in part to the fact that he stood beside me walking down the crowded hallways. I didn't fear the world quite as much back then. I'm glad I let him live. Truly, I am. Why the hell hadn't I let the others live too?

JJ had to die though. That was inevitable. After what he did, there is no other punishment fit for that kind of cold cruelty. But, the rest, looking back now, I should have spared as well.

I should have just stuck to my own plan. Simple. Easy. Final.

She always knew what to say to get her way though. Why couldn't I have just told her no? Just that once.

Maybe. Just maybe, I wouldn't hate it Here so much. Had I just said no, maybe I wouldn't even care.

Maybe.

My damaged heart hurts so badly I can hardly stand. The ache inside my chest overpowers every emotion any human can possess. I desperately want to reach deep inside my soul and remove that part of her that tortures me every day, just for some kind of relief. Any kind of relief.

But, in reality I could never remove her from my tattered heart. She's the only thing that keeps the brokenness within me together. Only her love was able to piece together the shattered fragments of my existence. She's the only reason why I haven't gone completely insane Here. I keep reminding myself day after day that I continue to endure this for her. I would give anything for her. I gave up everything for her.

## 40

"Mom? Are you okay?"

My mother wiped her dewy watery eyes quickly before turning toward me, a forceful smile spreading across her face.

"Of course, Kiddo!"

I gave my mother a worried glance before nodding quietly, appeasing her well performed act of content. Why did she always feel the need to pretend like everything was okay? She knows I'm not stupid.

"So, big plans for the dance?" she asked nonchalant.

I rolled my eyes in contempt. Not this shit again.

"No, Mom. I don't have plans. How many times do we have to go over this? I don't do dances," I answered shortly.

My mother lowered her gaze, slightly deflated. I knew she really wanted to see me go out on dates, go to parties, have a girlfriend. You know, all the "normal" teenage stuff. What she didn't want to admit to was the fact that I was the out cast, and would comply to none of those typical teenage things. A heavy wave of shame engulfed me as I watched her sigh sadly and turn away. I knew I should tell her about Joanna, but it wasn't quite time yet. We both had agreed that we would tell our families when the time was right. The right time being after graduation. Joanna's father would go ape shit if he knew about me. I wasn't good enough for his little girl, and he would see to it that I never would be.

God, I couldn't wait to graduate and get the hell out of this place.

I watched my mom go back to her busy work, cleaning the same spot mindlessly for the third time, and wondered if she and Joanna would like each other. I wondered if they would laugh and joke,

sharing embarrassing stories about me and giggle when I walk in the room. A euphoric smirk crept

across the corner of my mouth picturing my mother pointing out my chubby face and lack of hair in one of her many old photo albums, excited to actually be showing them to someone else besides John and I. She'd like her. I just know she would. She has to.

"Mom, I think the counter is clean."

"What? Oh, yeah, I guess so."

"Please don't worry about me, Mom. Just give me some more time, and you'll see everything will be okay. I'm just a late bloomer," I joked, smiling reassuringly.

She looked doubtful as she tossed her towel on the counter. A heavy, heartfelt sigh protruded through her body as she leaned softly against the fridge.

"I'll always worry about you, Harvey. I'm your mom, it's kind of my job," she chuckled.

"Just, this time, don't worry. Please trust me."

She nodded her head twice in exaggeration, "If you say so, Kid."

You just wait, Mom. You'll see. It'll all be okay...

*

I wish she had known the truth. Of all the other people in the world, I wish she would have been the one to know the truth as well. Maybe she wouldn't hurt so much knowing that I had been happy at one point. That I was loved.

But, no, what does she get to think? That I was nothing more than a heartless monster who planned to kill five people in a seemingly unprovoked act of malice and jealousy in front of dozens of

young vulnerable innocent eyes.

I love how the media always makes them out to be the poor "innocent" victims of a cruel tragedy. As if they had never committed any kind of crime at any point in their lives. As if JJ had been

a perfect human specimen. Those innocent eyes who laughed every time JJ got the best of me. Those innocent eyes who let the true horror take place and did nothing about it! Well, I did do something about it. That truth though can stay buried. That's not how I want anyone to remember her. That's not how I want to remember her. I pray They let it stay that way.

## 41

No matter how glad I am that I let John live, I'm almost just as happy that I took JJ's life. If ever there was a man who deserved to be punished for his crime, it was him. That horrible son of a bitch.

I know he's rotting in his own hell right now.

## 42

I waited frantically next to the rusty metal slide for several anxious minutes, sure she wasn't going to show up. I had arrived twenty minutes early, and was now awkwardly counting down the time. I paced nervously back and forth, wearing down a smooth path in the grass. I shook my head, angry with myself for actually believing something could go right in my life for once. How could I be so stupid to think she was telling the truth? I must have been delusional thinking someone would ever care about me.

I threw my hands up in quiet frustration and turned to walk home alone. I strolled about five steps before a tiny rock struck the small of my back, landing on the ground with dull thump.

"You'd seriously stand me up?!" a whispered cry of annoyance echoed out of the darkness.

My feet stopped, I shifted my gaze behind me. Joanna appeared out of the shadows, her arms folded in outrage. Her skin glowed heavenly in the moon light, and I almost thought I was hallucinating. She cocked her hip to the side, tapping her foot steadily, staring at me intently, waiting for an answer.

The shock of her presence silenced me as I stood motionless on the damp green grass. The corner of her eyebrow shot up in a vexing hypnotic glare. My mind raced in hurried desperation to find a suiting answer.

"Um, I....I...uh..,"

"Can it, Carter. Just promise me that you're staying and we'll call it even."

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. My tongue seemed to have lost all function, and spoken English suddenly became foreign to me.

Say something, Stupid!

She rolled her eyes and sauntered over to my half stunned immobile body. Her confidence

beaming even through the darkened night sky. The glow of her skin radiated brighter than the stars, giving it a porcelain like shine. Breathtaking wasn't even close to describing it. She was utterly perfect. I had thought, in that moment, no other girl could have ever looked so beautiful.

She slowly reached out, a devious smile twinkling in the corners of her mouth. She slipped her delicate fingers into my sweaty hand. I stopped breathing altogether, my heart thundering out of control.

"Well, now that you didn't stand me up, what should we do for our first date?"

## 43

This is all just a dream.

I'm going to wake up soon.

I'm going to wake up and it will all be just a very bad dream.

Can that be possible? Had I not given away my soul already, I'd say I'd trade it in return for escaping this nightmare.

I have nothing left to trade, however, and They don't make light deals.

Who the hell am I kidding, anyway?

Just accept your fate, Harvey. Accept what you did and reap the punishments. I just wish I knew that there was an end to all of it.

## 44

A muffled enraged voice seeped through the walls of my room. My mother's irate yelling awoke me from a deep sleep. My eyes fluttered open heavily. I peered at the clock. 12:43 am.

Who could she have possibly been talking to this late at night?

I rolled laboriously out of bed and shuffled to the door. The floorboards gave a soft groan as I turned the squeaky knob.

The phone slammed hard and fast before I reached the living room.

"Mom? Who are you talking to?"

"Uh...just Helen. She's...she's having a bad night."

Helen? Helen doesn't even call during the day let alone in the middle of the night. Despite being my mom's best friend, she wasn't really the phone call type.

My mother stomped away toward her bedroom, scraping her fuzzy slippers against the rough hardwood floors as she went. She waved her arm in the air, motioning for me to go back to bed.

I hesitated just long enough for the soft click of her door to sound before picking up the phone.

I pressed the smudged redial button and waited quietly as the phone began to ring.

Bring!

Bring!

Bring!

"For fuck's sake, Trina, stop calling me! Sarah is going to wake up! I told you, I'm not helping that little bastard!"

My breath caught in my throat. My hands began to quiver with dreadful apprehension as the voice on the other end of the line spouted a few more profanities before rudely hanging up.

I held the phone tightly, my knuckles turning white, until the beep, beep, beep, was the only

sounds through the receiver.

My now pounding heart was thudding nearly out of my chest as I peered toward my mother's door, afraid she may emerge at any moment.

My shivering hand placed the phone back on the hook. Panic-stricken, I suddenly became afraid to move.

Was it really him?

It had to be.

Who else would she lie about other than him?

So, he at least knew I existed. That was better than nothing, I guess.

But who was Sarah?

## 45

Her constant quiet screaming was almost more than my heart could bear. Muffled tears soaked the fuzzy chocolate colored pillow she clung to tightly. The intense fear that welled in her eyes was overwhelming. Nausea rose and fell in the pit of my stomach with every cry. My scrawny useless arms rocked her gently as she wept. I could do nothing more than hold her as her tortured soul agonized over what had happened. I feared she would reject my touch as I softly attempted to stroked down her disheveled matted hair. The faint odor of stale beer and wet grass swirled in wisps around her dulled golden locks. I choked back the smell that so boldly screamed of JJ.

Whimpers and short chokes of breath were her only reaction to my efforts at comfort. What was I going to do? I had to do something. It was my job to do something. If I couldn't keep her safe now, how was I ever expected to later in life?

I cupped her delicate head in my hands, bringing her gaze to mine. Her usual picture perfect complexion now smeared with the remnants of her make up. She looked like a badly used rag doll thrown to the trash. I peered deep into her eyes, searching for that sparkle of hope that I had not lost her forever.

"I'll make it all right, Jo. I...I don't know how...or when...but I'll make it all right. He'll never hurt you again. I promise you that."

Tears erupted from her eyes until they overflowed, running in rivers down her cheeks, washing away the dark, already smudged, eyeliner. She pressed herself hard against my chest and cried uncontrollably into the confines of my shirt, saturating my clothes. I squeezed my battered broken girlfriend close to me, trying to wish her pain away, my heart ripping apart.

After several hours of stifled sobbing and seemingly futile consoling, she finally began to calm. Her breathing began to ease, rising and falling slowly and heavily. I was grateful for her slumber, but

frightful of it just the same. I wasn't exactly sure what the symptoms of shock were, but knew Joanna had to be experiencing them. No one could endure what she just had and not feel tremendous pain and suffering of some form. As she slept I gazed down at her tattered and ripped clothing. Dirt and grass stuck in random patches up and down her legs. The faintest of scratches could be seen peeking out between the tears in her mint green skirt, and her once white shirt was caked with dirt, stretched out beyond repair. Thick fragments of flesh were imbedded deep within her broken fingernails. I wondered which "gentleman" was on the receiving end of her once manicured talons. Purple thumb imprints were already developing on the edges of her tiny wrists, and the vague outline of someone's rough grip mocked me as I caressed her arm. My blood boiled, searing to the tips of my fingers and curling into a tight hate filled fist. I couldn't tell yet whether or not she was bruised badly anywhere else, or at all for that matter, but I guessed she would be by the looks of the rest of her. I guess they weren't into chivalry. I felt worthless and pathetic at the horrid thought that I could do nothing to stop the pain, or even avenge it.

I highly doubted she would let me take her to a hospital or a police station. I knew she was scared. Hell, I was scared enough for the both of us, but something had to be done about this. What could she say though? We both knew that it was next to impossible to tell anyone the truth. No one would believe her. Not in this town, anyway.

I held her softly in my arms for hours, watching the moon rise and fall in the night sky out my living room window. No matter how much nausea and anger washed over me, no matter how sore my arms grew, no matter how tired my body became, I wouldn't leave her.

I thought long and hard as the clock ticked away the night. I thought about my failure to defend the one I loved and how by any chance at all that could be rectified. I had to decide a path to take.

What do I do? How do I fix this? Would I be able to take the road less traveled by, creating my own unbeaten path? My mind thought incessantly, aching from the stress. Sadness and despair swirling with rage and frustration. The night slowly turned into day and by morning I had made my final decision. I knew what path I would take.

## 46

"You Bastards! Why did you do that? Why? All I ever ask is for it to not be that one. Just that one! Why can't you even give me that?"

Let it end already! Just let it end!

You know, no matter how horrible it gets Here, it still doesn't compare to the pain of that night. I would give almost anything to be free from that memory alone.

## 47

I stood unmoving peering down at John's slumped figure at my feet.

Please forgive me, John.

I raised my gaze, scanning the lunchroom. A few stray kids hid under tables and shoved themselves into concrete corners. Their trembling hands masking the reality in front of them. They looked much like troublesome toddlers believing that if they couldn't see me then I didn't exist. I could see chaos erupting outside just as badly through the dirty glass windows of the school.

Back and forth, side to side, up and down they ran. No one could seem to decide which way to turn as they scattered across the school's now trampled lawn.

"Harvey, we have to finish this."

I nodded slowly, remembering JJ still lay cowardly under the bench next to Thomas' body. I took in a deep breath and held it, puffing up my chest and rising myself up to my full 5' 9 stature. I'd always been told this was a sign of dominance in the animal kingdom. Would this primal move make JJ cower to my sudden alpha male status?

As I turned and stepped closer to him, I realized he sure would. He immediately began to beg and plead in such a horrific child-like manner that I was slightly taken aback.

"Please, Carter! Please, I...I'm sorry, Man!"

I stopped just inches from his shaking body.

"Oh, so, you're sorry? Did you hear that, Jo? He's sorry! I guess we can all forgive and go home now, right?!" I mocked sarcastically.

JJ glanced back and forth from Joanna and I, trying to judge the extent of our mercy. His eyes practically bugging out of their sockets in anticipation. Did he really think he would get away with this? Of course he did. He always got away with it. Not this time.

Joanna couldn't look at him. She kept her focus on the ground, with a few quick pleading glances in my direction. I, however, bent down and stared straight into the depths of his inhumane worthless eyes. My hate filled gaze boring into his terrified soul. His entire body beginning to convulse out of fright. I sat face to face with the great destroyer of my life with a mixture of malice, pity, and envy. I almost embraced the first two emotions, but still hated myself for ever envying this pathetic piece of shit trembling before my feet.

No, envy was just something I couldn't quite let myself feel for him. No matter how popular, strong, good-looking, or rich he was I refused to envy him.

I turned to Joanna, who was still staring coldly at the blood stained floor.

I have to do this. She can't live with herself if he gets away with what he's done.

JJ crawled out from under the table bench, his hands raised in surrender. The golden boy was now groveling at my feet to spare his life. I wanted to vomit all over his continued unsympathetic apologies. His thick bulgy hands were actually clinging to my shoes now begging for forgiveness. His weak incessant crying tore at the fragile pieces of my heart.

Why did he have to do it? Why did he just have to take her from me? Why, JJ? Why?

I had thought once he knew the truth that things would be different between us. Maybe we could find some sort of peace, but this, and the sickening realization that he had known all along just confused every hopeful notion I had ever possessed about humanity.

Flesh and blood are not always thicker than water.

I raised my foot out of his grasp and kicked JJ square in the jaw as hard as I could. His teeth screeched and cracked loudly in the echoing cafeteria. His head flew backwards in one smooth jerk, blood spritzing from the corner of his smug mouth.

How's that for mercy, Jacky?

He rolled back over slowly, spitting red bubbles of sticky liquid on the floor. His breath gurgled as he choked on his own scarlet blood and shame.

"Harv...Harvey, please," he begged again, reaching out his hand.

Hushed sorrowful tears fell down Joanna's pink cheeks as JJ plead pitifully below us.

"Shut the fuck up, JJ. You deserve this, and you know it. No more excuses for you, Brother," I growled, emphasizing my deep impenetrable hatred.

JJ's eyes widened with horror as an epiphany of brutal reality seeped into his understanding.

"No...no...you.."

Bang!

JJ's head seemingly exploded back in slow motion, blood spraying in all directions from the close range impact, the dark black of the bullet hole growing uncontrollably deep with impending emptiness. His mutilated body lay still as the gun shot resounded deep in my heartbroken spirit. Sharp, stinging tears seeped down my face, leaving a burning trail across my cheeks. The gun hot in my hands.

Joanna's hand covered her mouth tightly as she forced back an ocean of anguished sobs. Her eyes not opposed to looking directly at JJ's expressionless vacant stare now.

I lowered my head disgracefully. I had to let her know. I couldn't keep it to myself anymore. It was too late for her to stop me now anyway.

I hope she can forgive me. Please, let her forgive me for this.

## 48

All I ever really wanted out of life was just to be accepted. I didn't even have to be well liked or tolerated, just accepted that I was who I was and that was okay with the world. Is that really so much to ask of a person? When does the right to exist become something that is earned instead of given? Am I not a human just the same as you? Do I not bleed? Cry? Hurt? Love?

What part of humanity do I not fit into?!

I get that what I did in the grand scheme of life was not right. I know it wasn't right to take such drastic vengeance, but I'm still human through all of my flaws.

I am still human, aren't I?

Sometimes even this once assured concept of life seems to escape me.

Good God, I've really lost it now.

I'm cracking. I honestly never thought it would come to this, but I truly believe I am starting to break Here. I wonder how long others last before they break? Am I unusually strong willed, or just a weak specimen in comparison to other souls?

Ha! Even Here I care what They think of my humanity! I hate myself that I actually want to be accepted Here. Why do I crave acceptance from even the worst beings? It's just human nature to want to be a part of the group, I guess. But, if I have lost my humanity, where does that leave me?

I am truly breaking down.

## 49

My weary head rested heavily across my smooth wooden desk. My insides were on fire, the raging heat rifling straight to my brain. I needed to go home.

I lay unmoving for a great length of time. Luckily, junior high study hall teachers could care less what you do with your time as long as it wasn't bothering them. John poked me sharply in the back with his orange pencil.

"Harvey? What are you doing? Are you sick or something?"

I lifted my head only inches from the desk and gathered just enough energy to nod once. My eyes drooped uncontrollably as I fought to stay awake.

"Do you want me to get the teacher?" John asked, concerned.

I pondered this for a brief second before deciding it was pointless. My mother was not at home, nor could she be if I had to leave. I peered at John again through foggy eyes and shook my head.

He sat back in his seat as I put my head back on the cool desktop. I was seconds away from a peaceful rejuvenating sleep when a slimy sticky glob came flying from the back of the room and landed in the depths of my shaggy flaxen hair.

I awoke with a start and quickly reached behind me to fetch the mystery object, only to realize it was a large piece of extra chewy bubble gum. It stuck to my fingers like sugary molasses, and clung securely to the base of my hairline. I pulled hard to release it. Long skinny pink strings of gum began to emerge into my vision. I kept pulling and pulling, relieving only minute strands at a time.

My mom is going to kill me!

Giggles rose from the corner of the room as I pulled the gooey substance from my hair bit by bit. I didn't even have to look to know exactly who it was.

I kept pulling unsuccessfully at the clumping gum when another wad landed on my back. This

time I started to turn, ready to fire an insult that would surely get my ass kicked later, but John beat me to the punch.

He charged to the back of the room in a blur, shoving JJ against the wall with lightening speed and animalistic force.

"Leave him the fuck alone, Prick!"

JJ's eyes bulged in surprised fright as John's massive arm pinned him hard against the chipped blue paint of the wall. His awestruck face showing only signs of shock rather than remorse.

"Sorry, Man, my bad," JJ muttered innocently, throwing his hands in the air.

John let go, returning to his seat and resuming his history homework.

"You know, Johnny, if you ever want to have a real life you could do a lot better than Carter! Think about it," JJ called after him.

Mr. George's irritated figure sauntered over in an exaggerated annoyance at having to leave the comfort of his desk.

John looked up disgracefully, knowing he had crossed the line, even for the lackadaisical study hall teacher.

"Detention after school, Mr. Brenner."

He handed John an orange slip of paper that screamed delinquent to the rest of the teaching staff. John took the piece of paper, shamefully lowering his head.

As Mr. George walked away, I desperately wondered why JJ was not getting a detention slip too. He threw the gum in the first place! John was only sticking up for me and once again JJ skates by.

I tried to look at John through my weary eyes, but failed to get any kind of response. He kept

his eyes focused on his desk, but I could tell he was fuming.

The bell sounded loudly, startling me. I began to gather my things slowly, feeling my stomach lurch with every movement. I turned to see John already storming out the door without me. Guilt

started to rise deep in my gut along with the sickness that was close to overpowering my senses.

A hard shove invaded both emotions as JJ's hand plummeted into my back, sending my papers reeling to the floor.

JJ leaned over as I tried to scavenge the disarray of history notes and English papers.

"One of these days, Carter, Big John's not going to be around to save your ass. And when that day comes, you're in for it," he whispered menacingly as I stared at the floor.

I was silent. I had no witty comeback, or even an argument against his comment. He was right. I hated to think of it, but it was true. As school got progressively harder, we were not going to be in the same classes anymore. I would be alone. And I would be fair game.

## 50

Joanna rolled her eyes in aggravated annoyance. She let out a tremendous huff that was clearly not made loud enough for JJ to get the hint, as he kept going.

"You and me, Babe. Two against the world. Come on, what do you say? We were made for each other," he smoothed back his hair with his most debonair gesture, winking and puckering his lips in her direction.

A look of utter revolt swept across her face, her jaw dropping in disgust at his crude forwardness. She quietly gagged and heaved in disdain, again, hoping he would get the drift.

JJ sat back James Dean style in his seat with egotistical satisfaction. I empathized with her nauseous displeasure at his advances. JJ was such an arrogant jerk. I laughed slightly enjoying his current failure, even if he was unaware of it.

Joanna gained her composure, took a deep breath and turned to JJ's slouched figure.

"Dear, Sweet JJ," she began with a forced smile, "although I'm sure you are just the highlight of some other bimbos lives, you are not, nor will you ever be mine. I suggest you take your weak ass swagger somewhere else. I hear the girls you usually date are willing to accept credit cards these days. Maybe Daddy can buy you a new girlfriend. Although, it might cost you extra to include that big ego of yours."

JJ pursed his lips in agitation. I could feel the heat of rejection and anger penetrate the entire room. His jaw clenched tight, and he bawled his fist defensively. JJ walked heavily toward her desk, leaned down and gripped the edges, squeezing so hard I thought the pressed wood may crack under the pressure. He stared her down with intense fury, daring her to say another word. His body hovering close to hers in chilling intimidation. His hand slowly letting go of the desk and rising toward the now pink of her cheek.

I feared his "to the moon, Alice" attitude and prayed the teacher would return soon. I kept telling myself that there was no way he'd actually hit her, but the deep resentment in his eyes told me otherwise as he drew closer.

Joanna would not back down, keeping her bold disposition she held his angered gaze with her own fearless glare. She kept her shoulders squared, no sign of relenting. The two were locked in a cold war for several tense moments. JJ was the first to crack, much to my relief.

"Ah, Jo Jo, you'll come around," he said assuredly, his cocky smile returning full force, his hand lowering. He winked confidently at Joanna's cool composure before taking a seat in the front of the room just seconds before the teacher reemerged.

I let out a quiet sigh, thankful JJ didn't cause more of a scene than he already had. That look in his eye chilled me to the bone. Such vicious contempt. I wondered in that moment exactly what JJ was capable of. In spite of our knock-down-drag-out history together was I underestimating the extent of his violence?

I peered over to Joanna, who sat shaking in the corner, softly hugging herself secretly under the concealment of her desk, and realized I was not the only one contemplating JJ's true nature.

## 51

I feel so shamefully guilty.

Not so much guilt because of what I did that fateful day, but because of what I couldn't do the days before it. I couldn't protect the ones I loved from JJ and his father. Perhaps, had I known the women I loved would succumb to their arrogant greedy nature, I might have finished the job years sooner and taken big Jack along for the ride. Had I only known what they were capable of.

Warm tears well in the corners of my eyes yet again at the thoughts of my lost love. Such horrible sadness and pain she must have endured that night, completely vulnerable and alone. I truly had lost her that night, no matter how much my heart lies to me. Her soul perished in my arms the night he raped her. I hope the demons in which he now dwells with are not forgiving creatures. I long to know how his putrid rotten soul is being tortured in the depths of his vast venomous hell.

I still have a hard time accepting the reality of his cruelty to Joanna. It was all my fault, of course, and not just because I was unable to prevent his brutality. Had JJ never found out about us, he might have just left her alone. That bastard just couldn't live with the possibility that maybe, just maybe, I might be a better man than him. I just had to open my big mouth to the only person who could ever actually hurt us. He just had to take her from me. He just had to take away everything I had. Everything. And for what? Just to spite me, and prove he will always have the upper hand, the superior seed.

I'll never forget the smug expression on his thick face when I strolled quietly into the cafeteria that day. It was so boldly confident. So convinced that he had won the battle for good, the blatant fingernail abrasions radiating down his neck mixed with the purple bruise on his cheek worn proudly as triumphant spoils of war. I wanted to rip the filthy flesh right off his disgusting self-satisfied grin. It sure does make me smile to relive that smugness be torn off his cocky face.

Oh yes, Jacky boy, that moment gives me great pleasure. I hope your demons are doing to you exactly what you did to her.

## 52

My heart broke at the sight of the weary exhausted woman who sat before me at the kitchen table. Her soul was slowly giving up hope that love would ever enter her life. She's kissed a good deal of frogs and no prince has surfaced yet. At least, none that she wanted anyway.

Why, Mom? Why are you so set on all or nothing? Is he really worth it?

From what little information I'd gathered he sure wasn't.

Why couldn't she be happy with Joe Somebody? Joe Anybody! Sixteen years of living with a broken heart can take a lot out of a person, no matter how strong they are. I guess it's a good thing she's tough. At least she hides the pain well from everyone. Everyone but me. There is little that my mother actually can hide from me these days, despite her best efforts.

Which reminds me.

"Some Sarah called the other day. Who's Sarah?"

## 53

Do you forgive me, Mother? How about you, John? Jo? I wonder if anyone does. I seem to be having an unusually hard time forgiving myself these days. Why is that?

I have so few happy memories left to keep me going. Perhaps it is just the constant parade of somber moments that have put me in such a melancholic state. Self loathing truly has become my forte.

I wonder what is happening to that once assured confident person who felt justified by an eye for an eye act of seeming morality. When once, I was so convinced that I was right, now has me constantly brooding over my vindication. Instead of a mixture of guilt and justification, I only feel shame and regret.

I am no savior.

I am no protector.

I am no angel.

Just a monstrous demon. God, they were right about me! I'm so sorry, Mother!

I'm sorry Jo...

I failed you.

I failed myself. I stooped to his level and now everything in my world suffered the consequences. I hate JJ with every inch of my being, but I am beginning to hate myself even more. Wow, even Here he's winning.

Why did I let my anger toward JJ and his goons fan the flames? Why did I keep dwelling on my hatred? Why did I let it consume me?

Had I not swam in the depths of my wallowing, would everyone still be alive? Would Joanna have been able to move on? Would she have kept going just for me? Would John and I have become friends again?

I hate to admit my defeat, but I let JJ become the better man by taking his life. He became the martyr. And me? Instead of climbing to higher ground, I fell as far as my soul could possibly go.

I let him win.

## 54

"Damn it, Harvey, don't argue with me! This is what I want! Please!"

I shook my head roughly, trying to throw out the inconceivable words that now invaded my thoughts. How could she?

"No!"

Slender hands reached up quickly, shoving me hard in the stomach.

"How about now, huh? Because I can keep it up! I can't be left here, Harvey! You can't do this to me!" thick tears streamed down uncontrollably, mixing with the previous bout of dried salty pain.

She can't be serious. This isn't happening.

She drew her hand back and slapped me hard across my cheek, the sting of her pain boring into my soul as small red finger marks developed against my pale skin.

She grabbed the hot metallic gun in one quick movement, pressing it hard to her temple. The shock of her abrasiveness rocked my core and froze my bravery. I feared my fingers would slip somehow and it would all be for nothing.

Why is she doing this?!

"Jo, don't do this. This is not supposed to happen!"

"Neither is what you are planning," she accused coldly, "Do you honestly expect me to stand by and watch you do this? Do you expect me to keep living after that? Because I won't! I can't! You know that. You've always said you'd do anything for me, Harvey. I'm asking you to please take me with you. Please don't leave me here."

I knew what I was going to do would hurt her, but hoped she would understand and forgive, not

want to join me. I began to worry about the consequences of what my absence would do to her.

She wouldn't...would she?

My hands trembled uncontrollably as the barrel of the gun slowly left a circular imprint against

her fair skin.

What the hell am I going to do?

As I saw it right now, there were two clear choices.

One, I change the plan and face my punishment knowing she would be considered an accessory.

Or two, I take her with me.

*

Sharp stabs of remorse pierce my broken heart. I can't believe I let her talk me into it.

## 55

My cocktail of orange juice and mint chocolate ice cream did nothing to console the deep sadness that reiterated over and over again in my mind. Truth was often a hard pill to swallow, and this one was choking me. I wanted this cruel joke to end. No more punchlines.

It just can't possibly be, I muttered to myself.

The crumpled phone records on the table pulsed haughtily back at me. Laughing at the blatant proof that lay before my eyes. How did I not see it before?

Well, Sarah Douglas, I wonder if you know my mother calls your husband in the wee hours of the night. I wonder if you know he calls her just as much.

The long list of back and forth phone calls extended the entire paper. I wondered if every month looked like this or if it was a recent development. I knew my mother was going to be furious once she found out I had opened her mail, but, I had to be sure. I had to know. Why the hell did I have to know? I should have just left it alone.

## 56

I shook my head in disbelief.

How could he have known this entire time? He knew?! He knew and still treated me like trash. Hell, he probably treated me like shit because he knew.

JJ's unsurprised expression still holding firm against my shock and awe grimace. I was so sure this would change things. I should have known better with JJ. Anything that had to do with me, he blatantly would spit on without any inkling of regret. The crushing reality that he hated me all these years because of the truth hurt more than I ever thought it could.

I almost chuckled to myself slightly.

Anyone but him. It could have been anyone but him. Why him?

"Harvey, you're a piece of shit. I don't know what you thought was going to happen, but you're wrong no matter what it is. I hate you. I hate your whore of a mother. So does my father."

I pushed back the urge to cry, not giving him the satisfaction of knowing he caused me more agony. I desperately wanted to have some kind of upper hand. There had to be something that could hurt this asshole!

I raised my head confidently, a blissful smile creeping up in the corner of my mouth.

"Well, JJ, I don't really care what you think. Or your shitty dad. All I know, is that Joanna thinks I'm a pretty good guy. Oh, that's right, she turned you down, didn't she? Man, that had to have hurt, being rejected like that and all. Can't say she's ever said "no" to me though," I took in a deep exaggerated breath, "She's smells just like butterflies and lavender. So intoxicating. And I can't even begin to describe how delightful her cherry lip gloss tastes."

Disbelief mixed with envious rage spread fast across JJ's face. An evil grin of superiority formed across my face. It felt so empowering to get the best of him that I just couldn't control my

outright pleasure of his childish jealousy. I ached to keep twisting the knife deeper and deeper into his envy, but pulled back, hearing Joanna's apprehensive voice telling me to let it go. I was so thankful for her reasoning. That assuring voice had talked me out of a lot of idiotic decisions.

I gave JJ another quick arrogant glance before walking away, almost skipping as I went. I decided against looking back. I had already gained enough joy from his jealously. What started out as a shit sandwich of disappointment had turned into quite the delicious feast of revenge. I was so proud of myself for finally having something that asshole would never possess.

## 57

It's strange how I cease to be sad for my increasing lack of human emotions within my hellish prison. I am beginning to numb to the never-ending anguish that feeds on my soul. Loneliness is even becoming such a constant that I no longer dwell on its pain. Am I losing what minute amount of humanity that I had left? Am I becoming what they all feared I would be? Do I even care?

## 58

Joanna woke up red eyed and disheveled in my tired arms. Her bloodshot eyes still caked with smudged eye liner and tears. I swallowed hard as I gazed into her lost soul, knowing what I was about to tell her could either break the rest of her spirit or put it back together.

"Jo, I have to do something about this. I...I," I hesitated heavily, both afraid and relieved at my next statement, "I'm going to kill JJ."

I threw it out there. All my cards were laid out on the table. Go big, or go home.

Joanna stared back at me blankly, and I wondered if she had even comprehended gravity of what I had just said. She didn't say a word, didn't move, she didn't even blink.

I let her ponder a while, and just as I opened my mouth to explain my reasoning, she spoke.

"I'll help you."

"That's not going to happen..."

"I'll help you."

"Jo, I'm doing this and I'm doing it alone."

"I said, I'll help you!"

"Jo.."

"You can't argue with me because you know I'm right. I'm going to help you."

I hated it when she was right.

## 59

It always comes to this. That one final moment before all is lost. Why can't I just skip this part? Why can't I just skip all of it? I want to go back to my happy memories. What few I have left. But, They are already stripping those from the caverns of my heart, leaving only agony and angst.

My humanity is all but a cruel joke now. I feel next to nothing. My heart hides from the pain of tortured reality. My soul recoils at every thought of those I once considered my world.

They are taking everything from me.

Everything but the pain.

*

My hands were sweating heavily as I feared the gun would slip from my grip. Her once kind and innocent eyes glared back at me with intense pleading and suffering. She pressed herself harder against the gun, it's searing end now burning her flesh. Cringes of pain escaped her stone-like posture.

I lowered my head in absolute shame. I almost vomited as the reality of what I was about to do rocked my very core, crushing all hope I ever clung to for my future, or hers.

She stepped back from the gun, the red blistered circle pulsating brightly in front of me. Her soft hand reached up and touched my rough dewy cheek.

"Harvey, I love you. Even after what happened, that will never change. But because of what happened, I can't live without you. One way or another, I'm going to lose you forever because of what we just did. I can't live knowing I'll never see you again. You have to take me with you, Harvey. Please, it's the only way to stay together," diamond like tears fell in shiny spheres down her cheeks as she spoke her peace.

I fought back more tears. There had been too much sadness spilled here already today. I closed my eyes tightly forcing back my hurt and grief.

Why couldn't she just be satisfied with him gone?

Suicide pacts were never in my long term goals and I hated Romeo and Juliet with a passion. Were these star-crossed lovers going to walk in their ignorant footsteps as well? I wondered.

I already knew the answer before I asked the question. I only hoped it would be quick and painless.

"Okay," I said quietly, just barely above a whisper.

She craned her head toward me, as if she needed to hear it louder. I couldn't say it again, so I nodded and left it at that, her comprehension growing apparent as she nodded slightly back. Joanna squared her shoulders and raised her head high. Her bold fearlessness made my own bravery seem weak.

I tightened my jaw, squeezed the gun hard in my hand, and raised it to her angelic face. I breathed in deeply through my half clogged nostrils, and put my index finger comfortably on the trigger. I began to think back on all the serene moments we had shared the last year, our love growing deeper than any I could have ever imagined. Jo was my heart, my soul, my everything. She was the only person I could ever feel comfortable dying for. And now, here we were, literally dying for each other.

The gun hovered in the air directly in front of Joanna's peaceful face. She had accepted this fate more readily than I could. Had she made these plans before learning of mine?

As much as I tried to disagree, I knew she had.

"I love you, Harvey," she began to whisper softly in her sweet siren voice.

I swallowed my shame and guilt in one thick lump, letting the flood of tears burst through gates of my courage. I shook my head roughly trying to escape this harsh reality.

"I love you, Jo. I never wanted any of this to happen to you," I cried uncontrollably, still refusing to accept this fate.

She grabbed my hand, lacing her fingers in mine and squeezing tightly. The love of my ill-fated life continued to whisper her endearing goodbye to me as her honey colored eyes closed for the last time. I sobbed like a beaten child as she squeezed my hand until the blood failed to reach the tips of my fingers.

Now, Harvey. It has to be now. With a heavy heart and a heavy finger, I pulled the trigger.

BANG!!

The sound echoed thunderously around my trembling body. A wave of intense desensitization encompassed my being as I became deaf and blind to the world around me. It took several seconds for my vision to clear and my heart to accept my fate. My tear-soaked eyes faced the utter horror of what I had just done with disgust and excruciating torment. Stabbing anguished pain seared through my body as I tried to stay standing before my beloved. Her hair turned a bright crimson as the life of my Joanna seeped across the blood-tarnished floor. My knees buckled as I fell before her still body. I reached out and caressed her silken cheek. Her face was serene and peaceful. I used to love watching her sleep and saddened at the thought that this would be the last time. At least, it would make killing myself a little easier now. I almost thanked her for that.

As I sat next to my lost Juliet, I took inventory of all the spent bullets of the last few minutes. The blaring of sirens and horns screaming outside deterred me for only the briefest of moments. I had started with six bullets. Six. I had planned to kill only JJ and then shoot myself, so why had I chosen to put in six bullets? Had I known it wouldn't be that simple?

The piercing ache in my heart grew more intense with each passing second. Shouts of surrender and bursting doors invaded my mind, forcing me to act. I gave Jo once last glance, hoping to see her beautiful face soon. I closed my eyes and placed the still hot gun in my mouth, the thick taste of warm metal crawling across my tongue.

"Drop the weapon!" I heard in muffled slow motion as I pressed the gun harder against the roof of my mouth.

They knew just as well as I that I would do no such thing. It didn't matter what decision I made, either way, it was going to be the same ending. I closed my eyes tighter, letting the shiny silver orbs of wet tears encompass my darkened vision. I breathed deeply through my stuffy nose, taking my last great breath of air, and readied my soul.

Then, I do the same thing I have done every day for the last three years since being thrown mercilessly into the pits of Hell. Allowed only torturous bitter memories for companions. Rejected from Heaven. Rejected from Joanna and forced to relive that day forever...

My steady bony finger squeezed slowly back on the firm trigger as tears of sorrow and joy fell unrelenting down my face.

I'm coming, Jo.

I'm sorry, Mother.

BANG!!

## Epilogue

John opened his eyes slowly, disbelieving the reality of his continued existence if not for the immense throbbing igniting from the back of his head. He rubbed his head roughly over the developing bump protruding from his skull the size of a marble. He looked forlorn as he realized he truly had been spared. The chaotic cafeteria now ablaze with police and paramedics running from person to person in hopes of finding more survivors than victims. John watched with confused sickness in the pit of his stomach. He knew he should have been lying cold on the floor instead of warm and alive before the lifeless blood-covered bodies of his friends. He stared unrelenting at Harvey's still body, sprawled aimlessly across Joanna's lifeless form. He took Joanna, but he wouldn't take me. Painful rejection washed over John's heart as he realized how alone he was now.

He patted his broken heart and felt a slight unusual bulge in his breast pocket. Reaching inside, he pulled out an over-folded piece of worn paper. The writing had been erased and rewritten so much that it was difficult to make out what was left and what had been rethought. John soon recognized the handwriting and burst into sobs of regret.

Dear John,

I'm leaving you this letter because I will never get a chance to explain myself in person for what happened today. I want you to know, no matter what, you have always been my friend. You are a good person, and I hope one day you will forgive me for what I've done. JJ has committed a horrible act of evil that is both unholy and unspeakable. That is why I have killed him. He took away my soul, and that is why I have killed myself. I never imagined I would be taking a life, but there is no other way I can see fit to assure he is punished for his crimes. Now, all I ask of you is to look after my mother because she is alone, look after Joanna because she is my heart, and make sure JJ's cruelty is kept buried from the world because he is my brother.

Forever your friend til the end,

Harvey
