The Devil's Monologue (10 page)
Read The Devil's Monologue Online
Authors: Kimberly Fuller
Tags: #hell, #bully, #devil, #afterlife, #3 years later, #h a carter
Thanks, Mikey!
I screamed in my head.
guy tries to do a good deed.
Harvey came closer, “You
saying JJ pushed him?” he asked my right hand man.
Mike nodded in over exaggeration. I was
furious at his lack of loyalty, but I had to admit he was only
doing the natural human response of survival. He looked pathetic,
groveling at Harvey's feet, begging for scraps of life. I suddenly
realized what a piece of shit we both were. I couldn't believe I
had actually thought I could be redeemed.
Harvey walked toward Mike as he bawled and
drooled with weakness all over his stupid green toilet shirt. I
hated that damn shirt. Tears pooled in my eyes, and I almost
started crying. My head filled with memories I wished I could take
back. Harvey's face grew cold and heartless as he raised the gun a
second time.
I can't believe this is
happening.
Bang!
amazed at the shit Harv could pull out of his dirty rabbit hat. I
can't say I was surprised he showed up with a gun that day. He sure
did have balls.
“King of the Nerds” taking down “King of
Everything Else”. It should have been made into an after school
special.
He took it all away in a single moment of
revenge. I didn't even get the chance to explain. I wish I could
have explained that I didn't remember what happened that night in
the garage. Alcohol will do that to you, you know.
All in that short moment, I wanted to tell
her I'm sorry. I wanted to tell him he'd won. I wanted to tell the
dreamy kid to go for it, Cheryle was easy if you bought her beef
jerky.
No explanations. No redemptions. Just poof,
you're gone!
I still hated that little fuck, but at
least at that moment, I understood his rage. If things had been the
other way around, I wouldn't have hesitated to shoot him.
I blame Harvey for this because I just
can't let go of that pain. It's about all I've got to hold on
to.
I have to hate him.
I still love Jo Jo. I still love Ma. And
I'd still stick a damn knife right into the Old Man's gut if given
the chance. I guess some things don't ever change.
Of course I've had those, “what if”, sappy
moments where I like to pretend that I've done nothing wrong and am
unjustly rotting in Hell. This is not one of those times.
I can't conjure up any happy times or happy
feelings. I can barely see my own reflection without the Old Man or
the Devil looking back. I can't even clean my damn dirty boots. All
I have are my hate and my own self pity.
I hate Harvey Carter, and I hate
myself.
I know I'm not as smart as some, but I had
always thought I knew far more about the world than the world would
ever know about me. Maybe it was just better that way. Had the rest
of the world known what I did to Jo, I don't expect I would have
had such a grand memorial. If they knew, they probably would have
taken turns pissing on my grave before the dirt settled, just to
ensure I could taste it.
I still taste Carter's hatred. I hope he
still tastes mine.
In that instance, staring at my own
reflection, I see now where we all went wrong. We let him
live.
Had the great “King of the Nerds” never
been born, his mom would have gone on to college and cured cancer.
Had the Old Man not had to choose between love and loyalty, he
wouldn't have realized what he was missing. Had I never started
drinking, I would have never hurt her. Mike would be alive. John
would have always had friends. A vast Utopia could have ensued
without the likes of Harvey Carter.
It all boils down to that
asshole. His
existence
poisoned the world. It still poisons me in Hell.
nods slowly through the slimy glass, smiling wickedly. It feeds off
my anger and right now it's lunchtime.
“Fuck you, Harv,” I whisper, but only for
the reflection. At this point, my heart tells me Harvey needs no
reminders.
shaking. I could feel the blood drain from my limbs, trying
desperately to control the now symphony of drumming that was going
on in my heart.
Harvey stepped closer to Mike, who wouldn't
stop whimpering and cowering. I was disappointed in his behavior,
but knew I wouldn't be much different when my turn came.
Mike cried so hard that drool and spit ran
down his chin in a thin silver line. Tears sprinted down his cheeks
like olympic runners, each one running faster than the one before
it. I pitied him.
Gun raised, eyes empty of any remorse,
Harvey shot twice without another thought.
Bang! Bang!
I jumped each time,
nearly pissing myself from the thunderous sound each bullet made.
The porcelain white toilet on Mikey's shirt was now caked with
black holes and splattered with what looked like red paint. His
body slowly slumped to the floor as he choked on the red paint
spilling from his insides. I wanted so badly for it to be just
paint. I wanted to have the practical joke cameramen and my
classmates come out from behind the corners laughing at my
stupidity for believing this was real. I had almost convinced
myself that this was just a joke, or at least a really fucked up
dream, until John suddenly confronted Harvey. At first I thought he
was going to attack him and end all of this horseshit. Johnny could
have taken that kid down with one blow, but instead he dropped to
his knees like a beaten stepchild, begging for forgiveness. My
heart sank.
He's going to kill us
all,
ran again and again through my
head.
duke it out emotionally in the suffocating lunchroom. My eyes
shifting from Mike's red and green toilet shirt to the ensuing
drama of who betrayed who going on a few feet from two slumped over
dead bodies. My mind was still trying to wrap itself around the
gravity of the situation as I faintly hear John declare his
knowledge of that night with Jo.
Jesus Christ, throw in a tiny little
disaster and loyalty goes out the fucking window!
I held back resentful
anger, reminding myself that my life was now in the hands of my
enraged brother. This could not be taken lightly. My eyes remained
focused on that damn toilet shirt, ears transfixed on the
conversation to my right.
“Get down on your knees, Maggot!” Harvey
demanded.
Here it comes,
I thought grimly, closing my eyes tight, waiting
for that inevitable pop to echo in my soul.
the panicked teenagers as Harvey began to cry.
“You were my friend,” he whispered quietly
to John.
Loud sobs of regret erupted from Big John
as he began coughing and choking on his own anguish, tears no doubt
streaming down his face as well.
“Are you ready to die, Maggot!” Harvey
screeched louder.
John let out a sharp shrill cry as a hard
thud filled the cafeteria instead of the expectant bang. I held my
breath, waiting.
Screaming students and frightened teachers
were still abundant sounds, but the air lacked the crack of
gunfire.
I opened my eyes, expecting to see John
caked in blood, but instead he is lying virtually unharmed on the
floor like a sleeping child, Harvey hovering above.
I was so focused on Johnny and his attacker
that I did not realize there was another warm body still left in
the room.
She breezed through the room, hand
delicately pressed upon Harvey's back. Her soft whisper floated
across the room, but I couldn't quite make out what she had said.
Carter simply nodded and turned towards on me. His eyes bore deep
into my soul.
Joanna followed, refusing to look at me at
all, but I could clearly see that she intended to have me
killed.
I couldn't say I blamed her.
than others. Pretty sure I set world records myself. I screwed up
everything those last few months I was alive.
“
Just stab my ass with a hot poker and call it even, would
you?”
I ask my cold reflection. It does
not answer back. We both know that's not nearly a good enough
punishment for the things I have done.
“Jesus Christ....get
yourself together, Boy! Mikey, get the hell out of here!” a booming
voice invaded the euphoric slumber I had finally been able to
succumb to.
Why the hell is he yelling at
me already?
I was in no mood to take his
shit at the moment, nor was I currently capable of defending myself
in this condition.
Booze, you dirty
bitch,
I thought angrily.
Mike run out the door, a scared rabbit as ever. The Old Man stood
just inches from my pounding head. The intensity of his
disappointment was suffocating, weakening my already disheveled
state. My mouth tasted of vomit and shame. I wasn't sure if it was
the alcohol or just my rotting soul. Either way it must have been
one hell of a night.
“What...have...you...done?” the old man
voice was low and grave, the tone instantly sobering.
What had I done?
I thought. Too much vodka, for one. Or was it the
whiskey? I couldn't remember which one threw me off the cliff of
logic and reason first. I looked around the trashed garage. Empty
bottles and cans were scattered willy nilly all over the floor. My
clothes were in a clump in the corner, my boots neatly placed on
the workbench, polished and perfect. Sharp pain screamed across my
face and neck as my hand instinctively shot up to inspect the
source. My fingers grazed across three angry spears of dried
blood.
from?
Scratch marks,
Asshole
, my mind yelled back.
through my foggy head. It was hard to tell which was which through
the ensuing chaos of the Old Man's voice and the ever growing need
to purge my guts.
I couldn't force the jigsaws together to
give him an answer as he impatiently hovered over me.
“From the looks of it, we had fun,” I
answered with a smirk, knowing full well he might kick my teeth in.
I didn't care. From what little I could piece together, I had
gotten the upper hand with Jo Jo.
As my head began to clear, I could just
make out the sweet scent of her skin on my fingers. My lips were
sore, as was the rest of me, my scratch marks burning from the
inside out.
“I hope it was worth it,” he replied with a
snarl.
I wish I could remember if it was. Nothing
was completely clear after we got to the garage. We talked. I
drank. We talked more. I drank more. I think we might have even
laughed at one point. Things get a little fuzzy after that, just
bits and pieces of pent up emotions and loud release.
“You disgust me,” a gruff whisper invaded
my day dream with harsh reality.
Ditto, Asshole,
I wanted to scream back in his face, but quickly
decided against it. I wanted to rid myself of him as soon as
possible. Relishing in my dream come true night was all I wanted to
do. That, and hopefully repeat it again very soon, without the
alcohol even. I wanted to remember her. I wanted to remember
everything. Hell, I might stop drinking altogether if that makes a
difference.
drink less, for a while. Everything inside of me was screaming to
better myself for her. The Old Man's angry words aside, I felt
inferior. I needed to rectify that.
I looked back at the Old Man, an epiphany
washing over my face, “Me too,” I admitted boldly.
He blinked, unsure of how to respond. I
laughed a little at the idea that agreeing with him actually shut
him up for a change. I suddenly wondered how things would have been
had I just smiled and nodded my head more often.
My father lowered his eyes, looking
defeated, and grey. I pitied him, and the things I had done to make
him this way. Guilt was not an emotion I was used to feeling. It
ate away at my confidence, leaving me empty, but filled with
regret.
“You....wanna go for a ride in the old
truck later?” he asked quietly, his voice almost fearful. At first
I wasn't sure how to respond, or whether or not I even wanted
to.
“I think we need a talk,” he added. It had
been a long time since we had been in that truck together. Too
long.
Both internally defeated, I nodded
silently. He turned and left me alone in the garage to start
picking up the pieces of my broken life. I was never more ready to
glue those pieces back together than I was now. Maybe there was
hope for me after all.
found out later, I had hope. What a piece of shit I actually was to
think I could have been a decent man. The apple sure didn't fall
far from the tree sometimes. I wonder what Harv would have been
like had he been more like the Old Man and me? Maybe we would have
gotten along a little better after all.
The smooth complexion of my chiseled face
looks empty in the cakey mirror, but only to me. If I had any
company at all, they would unknowingly see a handsome boy with a
potential future. Perhaps someone who had it together with a good
head on their shoulders? I hated seeing myself like that. I hated
that I still looked the same as always on the outside but felt like
a monster inside.
Other books
From My Window by Jones, Karen
The Confession of Piers Gaveston by Brandy Purdy
Cowboys 03 - My Cowboy Homecoming by Z.A. Maxfield
Niv: The Authorized Biography of David Niven by Graham Lord
The Poets' Wives by David Park
The Balance of Guilt by Simon Hall
Fool for Love (Montana Romance) by Farmer, Merry
Behind the Locked Door by Procter, Lisa
Kitty Steals the Show (Kitty Norville) by Vaughn, Carrie
Winter Affair by Malek, Doreen Owens