by Kyle Rutkin
A well-dressed man with a black suit and briefcase stepped into the room. “Don’t say anything, Kaleb. You’re being released.”
Donaldson smiled at me. “Enjoy your freedom while it lasts, Kaleb. But let me ask you one more thing before you go.” He turned to my new lawyer. “Don’t worry, he won’t need you for this.”
He shifted his gaze back to me, unblinking. “Was it worth it? Was she worth it?”
“You don’t have to answer that,” said the lawyer.
I waved him off. “It’s okay. I won’t be able to answer anyway.”
“And why is that?” Detective Donaldson humored me.
“Because my final task is not yet complete,” I said.
“Oh,” Donaldson snickered. “You mean you haven’t written her little autobiography? Or is this the new task of taking care of the ex-boyfriend?”
I smiled. “No. No. There is something much more important at stake here.”
Detective Donaldson rolled his eyes. “And what’s that?”
I stood up. He followed suit. We were face to face, our noses nearly touching.
I leaned forward, whispering. “I am going to kill the man responsible for everything.”
The Blog of Kaleb Reed
July 25, 2019
The helicopters hover above the motel. I pace around room, the gun in my hand. I turn on the television. There are pictures of the rundown motel. Breaking news scrolls on the lower portion of the screen. Police have surrounded Kaleb Reed. It ends here. Detective Donaldson will have his man. Dead or alive. Dead. I stare at the chair in the corner. He is coming. I can feel his power, his dark vibrations lingering in the air. I am ready for him.
I place my finger on the trigger.
He appears on the chair across from me. Crossword tucked in his armpit. Hat pulled over his eyes and mangled face.
“I can’t believe you came here,” he scoffs. “Aren’t you tired of this dump?”
I don’t have to look. I know he is smiling.
“I am going to kill you tonight,” I say, sternly.
“We’ll see about that.”
“But first I need to ask you a question.”
I can hear him chuckling.
“Why did you come back?” I ask him. “Why did you return to Sara’s house that night?”
He chuckles again. “Do we really need to do this again? Fine. Because you asked me to come,” Bob says. “You always ask me to come, and we always do this game. You pretend to not want me. And I convince you otherwise. “
“And where did you come from?”
“You created me.”
“Why?”
“To protect you.”
“I don’t need you anymore.”
“Then why do I keep coming back, Kaleb? You need me. You’ve always needed me to clean up your mess,” he said. “To take care of your pain.”
I don’t say a word.
“Do you remember the first night you met me? Do you remember the party? Couple months after your brother died. You were so pathetic. This weak, frightened kid. Couldn’t stop hearing the screams of your mom outside the hospital room. Seeing your father standing next to your lifeless brother.” Bob stands. “I couldn’t even look at you that night we met. Cowering from life. Do you remember what I promised you?”
I don’t say a word.
“Nothing, huh? How about I remind you?” He moves closer.
His voice rises. “I told you I would make you strong. That I would help you become a protector. I would help you be a fucking man.”
“But you didn’t! Look at me!” I scream, putting the gun to my head. “Look what you’ve done to me.”
“Please.” He circles around me in the chair.
The gun shakes uncontrollably in my hand. “Don’t come any closer.”
“Are you blaming this on me?” he sneers. “You didn’t ask for my help. This is what happens when you do things without me.”
“Lies,” I scream. “All lies!”
“You forced Kelly to take matters into her own hands,” he seethes. “You had all the time in the world to take care of it. And you failed her. Just like you failed your brother. Like you failed your mother. You couldn’t protect them, could you? Not without me. You just sat there and watched.”
“Stop it!” I yell.
“You need me.”
“No. You hurt me.”
“You deserve it. You need to be reminded of your weakness.” Bob’s hand falls on my shoulder. My eyes roll back. My heart throbs, then freezes over. The air is pulled from my lungs. Images appear. I see Sara crying, her beautiful face overrun with sadness and fear. I see my brother in the hospital with black eyes and bandages on his head. I see Kelly’s dead body. Crimson blood on cold cement, streaking across her driveway. Stop it. Stop it. I don’t want to see. I feel pain. I feel hurt. I can feel it all. Then he takes his hand away. I don’t feel it anymore.
“You see? I protect you from that. You need me. In fact, the one thing you ever did right in your life, I was there. I was leading you. Guiding you. But you tried to run away. You tried to find yourself a home. You tried to stay sober without me. But you need me. You’ve always needed me.”
“Face him, face this shit.” I look in the corner of the room. It’s Nathan. He looks up from his newspaper. “You face this. Don’t be a fucking coward.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Bob snaps.
“He is the pain!” screams Nathan. “Face him.”
“He doesn’t have the guts. Isn’t that right, Kaleb? You’ll never look at me. You can’t. You’re afraid.”
He’s right. I won’t face him. But I can do this. I cock the hammer back on the gun, press it firmly against my temple. “You and I are finished,” I scream.
Donaldson’s voice sounds from outside. “Come out with your hands behind your head. We have you surrounded.”
I will not come out. Not this time. It ends here. “I’m killing you.” I close my eyes. Clench my teeth. It will finally be over. The pain. I won’t have to feel again. I won’t have to fight him again. This is it.
“Wait!” Bob yells with urgency. “Give me another chance. We can still make a difference. There are still people out there that we can protect. We can redeem your failures. You and I.”
“No,” I cry. “I’m not falling for this again. Look where I am!”
The bullhorn blares. “This is your final warning.”
Bob laughs. “Fine, pull the trigger. Do it,” he froths. “Let the bullies win. Give up, you coward. But at least look me in the face before you do it.”
I can hear movement outside. They are getting closer. I close my eyes. I can’t look at him. I can’t. I won’t.
“He’ll never do it,” Bob snickers. “He’s a coward. And I will live on.”
My stomach lurches at the truth.
Bob laughs and laughs. He knows he has won. If I don’t face him, he will endure. He will reside in someone else. In the collective soul of this world. Bringing pain to everyone and everything he touches.
I know what I have to do.
I won’t hide any longer.
It ends with me.
“No.” I shout over his laughter. “You die tonight.”
And for the first time, I turn and look at Bob in the eyes.
A piercing scream rings in my ears. The air is ripped from my lungs. Fear floods my body. Bob’s eyes are dark. They penetrate deep within my soul. His face is battered, damaged. He is laughing and I am so fucking scared because I don’t want to be bad and evil like Bob. My darkest fears are moving through me like a living, breathing thing. It’s chaos. It’s madness. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever felt. The fear of never being worthy, never being good, never being whole. That no one will ever love me. I’ll always be tainted and damaged and alone. That I will always destroy the good things in my life. That there will be nothing good inside me anymore. I will become darkness.
“Keep going,” I hear Nathan yell above the screams.
<
br /> Bob’s face is melting away like black candle wax. I can feel the pain of my father’s hand. Bottling up those tears. Scared of not being a man. Scared of not being strong enough for him. For everyone. I let my brother down. I didn’t protect my family. I let them all down. I will always let you down, Nathan. I’m horrible. I’m evil. I’m not worth anything.
I see my brother reaching for me, telling me to hold on.
I see my fingers running along Kelly’s scar.
I see myself sitting across from Sara at our favorite diner.
I feel Nathan’s proud hand on my shoulder. I hear Sara’s voice. Just a little longer. It feels like I’m dying. I’m so scared. And I must keep looking. I must let all the pain and suffering devour me.
I surrender.
A flash of light.
Darkness shrieks.
Strength begins to build.
Real power.
I turn to Bob. The voice comes through me. I created you. You lived inside of me. But you are not me. The dark mass inside me pulses one last time, pure evil shrieking as it meets its death. It screams and throbs and my heart cracks and tears open as the last of Bob’s face melts away. My father is staring back. I see his tired, broken face. I see all his pain, and sorrow, and regret. I see his guilt and shame. Then he disappears. The dark mass detaches from my heart.
Stillness.
Just my breath.
Something has been lifted.
An open space where darkness doesn’t exist.
Freedom.
I can feel my heartbeat. The motel room is empty.
The door bursts open. Detective Donaldson leads a team of men in Kevlar Vests, their guns drawn. Donaldson stares at me, his dark brown pupils widening. Both of us pause.
And the gun falls from my hand.
The Real Alice
Los Angeles, 2017
Six hundred and eighty-nine days sober. I was standing at the podium, my book in hand. It was my first signing. It wasn’t a very big crowd. Only a handful of people. I didn’t care. It wasn’t about that. Nathan was in the back, drinking out of a Styrofoam coffee cup. I took a deep breath, opened to the page. I was about to begin the reading when I saw her walk into the bookstore.
Everything in the room stopped.
She came.
After everything we had been through. She had returned. She was wearing jeans, a plain white shirt, her hair pulled up. She had never looked more beautiful. She had never looked stronger.
“I had a passage picked out,” I mumbled. “But I think…” I watched her move through the bookstore, into the aisle. “I think I’ll read something special to me. Something I’ve wanted to share for a very long time.” I flipped open the book, pulled out a piece of paper hidden in the flap.
“This epilogue was never published. But I have been waiting for the right moment to reveal it.”
Sara sat down. Her gaze was fixed on me.
I read: “Alice’s routine was consistent for the past month. She never left the house for more than ten minutes. She was crippled by uncertainty, paralyzed with self-doubt. She didn’t know who she was anymore without her husband. Without his permission. She had seen the police on television. A homicide in his tattoo parlor, two bodies found.
There was no freedom in her husband’s death. Somehow, he was still there. She still wore her wedding ring. He had built an invisible wall around her life. Years of abuse could do that to anyone, she told herself. But he was dead. He would never hurt her again. And yet, five weeks later, she couldn’t leave the house. She still needed permission.
It was her birthday that day, September 9th. The first birthday she had spent alone since she was seventeen. She poured coffee into her thermos and opened up the door to grab the newspaper. As soon as her hands touched the plastic film, she felt better. It was the one thing she had left of her old life. The last of her precious routines. She unrolled the paper on the kitchen table and opened up to her favorite section. She scanned the names and sipped coffee. She closed her eyes and put herself back into the café, reading her favorites to AJ. He always amused her. He always wanted to make her happy. He would do anything for her. He did. The ultimate sacrifice. His life. She opened her eyes. Looked down on the page.
The thermos fell from her hand, sending a wave of hot black coffee across the paper. Her hands flew to her mouth in shock. It’s not possible.
He knew. He knew everything. He knew her better than she knew herself. He knew exactly what that asshole had done to her soul. And now he was giving her another lifeline. He was giving her permission. The sign that she needed. Even after his death, he was thinking of her. One final birthday present. She looked toward the bedroom. She wouldn’t need a thing. Just one bag. Just a car.
Without warning, a lightness consumed her. Anxiety and fear evaporated off her body like dew off the morning grass. A grin stretched across her face. She stared down at the words in the paper one last time.
Go find your sunset, Alice.
This was the last time she would ever read the obituaries.”
The bookstore crowd came back into focus. A few claps sounded. My eyes went straight to Sara. A tear fell down her cheek. She lifted her hand up, smiled. Her wedding ring was gone.
Lizzy: Kelly attended that book signing. She asked me to go, but as usual, I made up some excuse. She told me all about it after. . . She stood in the back with a wig and sunglasses on. There, she watched her favorite author narrate a deleted scene that left her in tears. But according to her, that wasn’t even the best part. The best part was getting to see the real Alice and AJ reconnect after the signing. Apparently, she even followed them to a nearby lunch spot so she could watch them interact. She said it was the most beautiful thing ever, watching them light up around each other, even after everything they’d gone through. To her, it was the greatest love story of our time. It was finally a fairy tale she could believe in.
Jez: Kelly emptied the hidden safe behind her painting on the night of the murder. There wasn’t much in it… A box full of childhood pictures, a postcard, her copy of Pay Me, Alice and a gun. She and I were the only ones who knew the password. . . Well, maybe Kaleb as well. The password was Alice’s birthday, after all. Now that I think about it. . . Perhaps the safe isn’t empty any longer.
Lizzy: A week after Kelly’s death, I received a package from her. It was a wrinkled postcard from the castle we always wanted to visit in France. On the back it said, This was my sunset. Now find yours, Lizzy. I just wish I knew how much that trip meant to her. How much I meant to her. We should have gone. I should have made the time. I should have been a better friend. I know she wanted me to shine. I know she wanted me to move on. But I just…I just can’t. Not with thousands of paparazzi lining up outside my house. I feel so trapped. Maybe it’s the guilt or shame. Maybe I’m not ready to face the world without her. There is nothing left inside me. What if my star died with her?
Jez: That’s everything I know, detective. Our work here is done. As for the KTroops, our work is just beginning. As their new leader, it is my duty to lead her fans and continue fighting the evil in this world. Starting with our old friend, Noah Tash. I’m confident his atonement will be our next headline.
Three Months After Kelly’s Death
I am a free man. Unpunished for my role in this story. For now, at least.
I should thank my lawyer. You should have seen him in the courtroom. He had a forensic psychologist testify that I was extremely intoxicated and suffering from extreme delusions while writing my blog. The content will not be admissible in court. I have proven myself to be a very good storyteller. Until that is a crime, I deserve to keep doing what I do best. My lawyer’s words. Not mine.
Donaldson was there when I stepped out of the courtroom. He had a cigarette to his mouth, a smug grin on his face. His eyebrows raised. He was wearing the same cheap button down he was wearing on the night we first met. He might be the only one who understands me. The only one who can see through the lies.
He’s never been a gray area kind of guy.
In the end, I wrote the book Kelly paid for. She got the headlines she wanted. A publisher is more than willing to pay now. You should see the offers that are coming in. Fiction, non-fiction…I’ll let you decide.
The death threats have subsided, replaced with fan mail and other strange letters. Thank you all for your support. The KTroops have made me a hero. I’m not sure I feel like one. They shower me with praise, love and affirmations. Just like their leader once did for them. I’m famous now. But none of that matters. I don’t care about the talk shows and television specials. I don’t care about the big fancy house I live in now. I miss my tiny apartment.
The grass is always greener.
Sara reached out to me. She said she had been following the news. Hoping for the best. She apologized for our latest run-in outside her house. There was nothing to apologize for. I was being guided by a dark hand. We messaged for a while. She can tell that I am doing better. That I’m sober. That I’m writing. She wants to meet up. I’m not sure I’m ready. I’m not sure we have a future anymore.
No more fantasies.
But today is a celebration for Kelly. She left a will. The castle would be given to Jez and her friends. They plan on carrying her legacy for as long as the house stands. The party is small. There is only thirty of us, the regulars, sharing memories and laughter. Her music is playing in the background, not the teeny bopper stuff. The new Kelly. That was her art.
She would have liked the scene—her illusionists, all dancing and smiling, drinking and celebrating. It is difficult walking through the house, past the memories, past the marble that was once covered in blood. I look up the staircase toward her tower room. I was never her protector.