Chubby Chaser (26 page)

Dear Dad
,

By the time you have read this
,
I will already be dead and will have taken many more with me
.
There will also be a lot of horrible things said about me on the news and in the streets
.
People will try to blame you for my actions and tell you
it
’
s
all your fault
.
Ignore it
.
It
’
s not your fault
,
and don
’
t let anyone tell you it
’
s your fault. They
’
re
just looking for someone to blame when they should be looking at themselves
.
You are a good man and a great father
,
and Mom would be impressed and proud
,
just like I am
.
I hope that after my passing
,
you will be able to move on and have a good life
.
Don
’
t
let what I
’
ve
done ruin you
.
Don
’
t
let it define you
.
You deserve to be happy
.
Mom would want you to be happy
.
I want you to be happy
.
Be happy
.

Love
,

Sara

Sara sat on her bed, glaring at the camera on her laptop.

“Do you know who I am? You probably don’t, and you probably don’t care that you don’t. That’ll change. Do you take me seriously? Probably not. But you will. Do I have your attention?” She raised her right hand, revealing a handgun. “What about now? I probably have your attention now, don’t I? Well, now that I have your attention, let me tell you who I am.” She set the gun on her lap. “I am every person who you’ve ever degraded, debased, and decimated. I am every person who you’ve ever disenfranchised. I am every person who you’ve ever looked down on. With this”—she lifted the gun up—“I will give you vile pieces of trash what you so richly deserve, but before I give you vile pieces of trash what you so richly deserve, and you then proceed to vilify and denigrate me for it while pretending to be innocent victims, who were attacked for no reason, I want you all to know that you brought this on yourselves. I was raped, savagely, brutally, in my own home, and not by some stranger hiding behind the bushes or some dirty vagrant or some other mythical bogeyman you can blame, so you can keep up the facade of being normal, good people. It was by someone many held dear and admired, someone many aspired to be, someone many looked to as a role model and a leader and a good person. I was raped by local football star Jason Pruitt.” Sara flashed a photo she had taken of Jason at football practice. “I, unlike many women, had the courage to report my rape. But the police told me that they would not charge Jason, not because there was no evidence but because no one would believe that an attractive athlete would rape a homely, overweight girl like me. But my story doesn’t end there. See, I killed Jason Pruitt. I did it because I hoped that it would fix my problems, fix my life. But it didn’t, because Jason wasn’t the only one to hurt me. You have all hurt me, with your endless fat jokes and your pranks and your bets, and constantly telling me that I don’t matter, that my life has no value, just because I’m fat. You have done this to many other people who didn’t fit your ideals of beauty and normality, some because they were fat, like me; others because they were gay or they were loners, or because they were just plain weird. As if that somehow justifies your cruel and torturous behavior. I wasn’t the first to do what I’m about to do, and I won’t be the last, but the reason this keeps happening remains the same. It’s because something is wrong with you. Not me, not us, you!”

She got up and turned off the camera.

The Scariest Monsters Are Human

Kowai Monsutā Wa Ningendearu