H. A. Carter (7 page)

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.

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.

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.”

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?

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.

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.

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