H. A. Carter (8 page)

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.”

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.

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.

“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.

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.

“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.