Death

by C. M. Radcliff

  His blood was warm and coated my hand. I continued my assault on his neck, stabbing him repeatedly in the neck until he stopped breathing.

  Just as I pulled the knife out for the last time, my mother came running down the stairs in a panic.

  She moved back in as soon as my grandma died, and she heard that my dad would be getting money.

  “Curtis!” she shrieked, running to my dad. “What the fuck did you do?”

  She was grabbing his face, turning it toward her with her eyes wide as I smiled.

  “What I should have done a long time ago.”

  “You piece of fuckin’ shit,” she said as she stood upright, cutting her eyes at me. “You did this so I don’t get any of the fuckin’ money. I gave birth to you, I raised and put up with your dumbass for the past however many years… and you think you’re just gonna fuck me like this?”

  She stepped closer to me and didn’t notice the knife that was still clutched in my hand. She never saw the pool of blood forming on the floor as it dripped from the blade.

  “I would rather fuck you like this than how you used to make me,” I retorted, quietly.

  She raised her hand to slap me across the face. “You little—” she started, but her words were cut short as I shoved the large knife into her stomach. She let out a scream and grabbed her abdomen when I pulled the knife back out. I stabbed her again, knocking her down with the force of my weight.

  She fell backward onto the floor and I quickly straddled her legs. I didn’t give her another chance to speak. I just stabbed her more before leaving her barely alive to bleed out on the floor.

  Her bloodshot eyes followed me as I stood up and she coughed as she choked on her blood.

  A small hiccup broke into the silence and it wasn’t from the dead bodies in front of me. I turned around and found Carson on the couch, hiding underneath a blanket.

  Fuck. He saw everything.

  Without a word, I quickly scooped him up and rushed him upstairs and into his room. I dropped him down on his bed and pulled the blanket away from his head.

  “I’m going to lock your door, but someone will be here to get you soon,” I told him as I bent down to kiss his forehead. “I love you, buddy.”

  I avoided his eyes as I hurried out of his room and locked the door behind me. Without any hesitation, I turned and walked down the hallway to my father’s bedroom.

  There was no turning back now.

  chapter twenty-seven

  PAST

  The evening had taken a turn in the wrong direction. I was being led down the path that I had chosen to avoid.

  And now it was too late.

  It had already begun and there was no coming back from this.

  The sun had already set, and the sky was growing darker as I set off down the street. The strap hanging over my shoulder rubbed against my skin with every step I took. As I was halfway down the next block, I stopped and pulled out my phone.

  “911, what’s your emergency?”

  “They’re dead,” I replied flatly into the phone.

  “Who’s dead?” the woman asked with a worried tone.

  I ignored her question and rattled off my address.

  “We have units on the way right now. Can you tell me what happened?”

  Ignoring her again, I sighed as I grew impatient. “My little brother is locked in his bedroom upstairs. Make sure he’s okay.”

  I ended the call before she could ask another question and chucked it onto the street. It bounced off the pavement as it shattered and I left it where it lay as I started walking again.

  My legs moved briskly, carrying me farther away from the house and I started to move faster as I heard the sirens in the distance. It didn’t take long before I was standing outside of my high school, staring up at the sign that moved with the cool breeze.

  Homecoming.

  Bright colored lights shone from inside the gym as the loud music inside vibrated through the walls. Blending into the shadows, I walked around the outside of the building to a solid door on the side. The lock had been broken for months, so the knob turned with ease.

  I quietly stepped into the dark hallway and walked up onto the back of the stage. The school was outdated, so the gym had a stage in it, doubling as an auditorium. The music and the crowd grew louder as I inched my way along the curtains, hiding in the shadows.

  When I reached the center of the stage, where the two curtains met, the adrenaline overrode my mind and I acted.

  I quickly shrugged off my coat and let it fall to the floor as I lifted the strap up and over my head. With the push of a button, the stock unfolds and clicks into place. I pause, running my hand over my jeans and feel the second magazine in my back pocket.

  Locked and loaded and ready to go.

  Wasting no time, I burst through the curtain and exposed myself to the sea of people. I was center stage and on full display with an AK-47 flush against my shoulder. Towering over the crowd, I pointed the barrel down to their level and opened fire.

  There was no time for anyone to react before I fired the first shot. My finger pulled the trigger in rapid succession, sweeping through my audience in a daze. My mind had shut down and shifted into autopilot, blocking out my surroundings. I was blinded by the adrenaline and deafened by the popping sound from every bullet expelled.

  I watched the bodies fall to the ground as the bullets ripped through their bodies, but I wasn’t actually seeing it. What I was doing never registered in my mind.

  I was the hands behind a mass shooting and a massacre.

  I was now a murderer. I was a school shooter.

  Not once did it occur to me that I was carrying out a plan that was once just a fleeting thought.

  With the first magazine emptied, I paused for a second and pulled it out. I threw it onto the floor and grabbed the one from my back pocket and slammed it in. I raised the rifle back up again when a girl’s voice caught my attention.

  “JOE!” she screamed. My finger quickly abandoned the trigger as I looked over at the girl kneeling on the floor. She was holding his head in her lap, rocking back and forth as the blood began to soak through his dress shirt.

  I completely froze when my eyes landed on his face. It was Joe, the only person that I had left.

  It was Joe, and I killed him.

  It was pure chaos. Students and teachers ran in every direction as they tried to get out of the building. They were all running into each other, crying as they tripped over the bloody bodies littering the floor. Their screams rang through the air, shattering my eardrums.

  All I could see was his lifeless body sprawled out on the ground.

  I had killed my only friend.

  There was no way for me to know that he would be there, but I never bothered to ask.

  I never planned to act.

  I stood on the stage, watching the madness as flashing lights appeared outside. Police charged into the gym, yelling as they frantically searched for the shooter.

  And then one of the officer’s eyes found me.

  “DROP YOUR WEAPON!” he shouted with his gun aimed at me. The gun slid out of my hands and fell to the ground beside me. “HANDS ON YOUR FUCKING HEAD!” the cop yelled again. I did exactly as he ordered. I cooperated. I dropped to my knees and laid down on the ground when he demanded. I didn’t fight back as they roughly gripped me and threw on the handcuffs before shoving me into the back of the cop car while reading me my rights.

  My sentencing was short and sweet. There was no plea bargain and no jury would deem me not guilty. I pled guilty, even with the death penalty on the table. I knew that what I did was wrong and I knew that I shouldn’t have done it. Even in a state of shock and disgust with myself, the guilt was already consuming me.

  I took twenty-three lives that day and left seventeen seriously injured. I destroyed numerous families and took a piece of their family puzzle that wasn’t mine. Empty seats at dinner tables and vacant bedrooms, all painful reminders of the loved ones that t
hey had to bury.

  I signed my own death sentence that day with the blood of my victims on my hands.

  chapter twenty-eight

  PRESENT

  My knuckles are bright white as my fists are clenched tightly in front of me. Staring down at my hands, I focus on the stark contrast of my skin against the silver metal table.

  All my cards were laying out on the table and my guilt and shame was hanging heavily in the air. I split myself wide open and my story was told, it was finished.

  Talking about our pain and struggles in life are supposed to help us heal and gain closure. Talking about mine is like watching a movie on set when you’re the main star. The memories are too vivid and too real.

  Healing and closure didn’t exist in my world. They were only part of the ending of the story, but not in my book. The victim’s families would be granted serenity when the animal was put to sleep.

  I keep my eyes cast down, avoiding Christine’s gaze. I’m caught in a vise grip of shame and the guilt is slowly suffocating me.

  I can’t breathe.

  “Did you get everything you need?” I choke out and swallow hard over the lump forming in my throat. A sheet of sweat collects on my face and a bead of moisture slides down my sideburn.

  “I did,” she says quietly, reaching across the table with her tiny hands. I quickly withdraw mine, dropping them to my lap in a rush. A droplet of sweat falls to the table as my breathing grows faster and louder.

  I can’t be in here anymore, not under her gaze of judgment.

  “Jameson,” I call out, turning around in my chair, frantically looking for him. He appears in the doorway, his eyes growing wide as he sees me crumbling to pieces. He nods quickly and unlocks the door in a rush, coming to me.

  Jameson pulls me out of my chair to my feet and I sway slightly as I’m hit with a head rush.

  Reliving the past with such a rawness was too much, it was overwhelming, and I was falling apart.

  She tapped into the lingering remnants of my humanity and my body was rejecting it like a foreign object.

  This hasn’t happened in years.

  “Miss Anderson,” Jameson regards her gruffly as he steadies me on my feet. “You got what you came here for, so you’re done here. It’s time for Curtis to go back to his cell now.”

  “I understand,” she says quietly, shoving her notepad and recorder back into her bag.

  The room is closing in on me as her chair scrapes against the concrete floor while she stands up, grabbing her belongings. The doorway narrows, moving miles away from me as Jameson leads me toward it.

  “Don’t worry, man,” he assures me in a hushed voice. “We’re gettin’ outta here.”

  “Wait!” Christine calls out as we finally reach the door. Her voice bounces off the walls, yet she sounds so far away.

  Jameson pauses in the doorway, staring straight ahead with his body rigid.

  Christine’s heels echo throughout the room as they click on the floor. She stops behind me, her eyes burning holes into the back of my head. “Thank you, Curtis. For your time and for sharing the truth with me.”

  I can see Jameson watching me out of the corner of my eye. He’s waiting for my cue. Something inside compels me to look at her, to face the disappointment in her eyes.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I’m met with her pained expression, free of judgment or disappointment. She watches me with tear-filled eyes, swirling with sadness. My breath catches in my throat as I’m caught off guard by the way she’s looking at me.

  I showed her the monster inside and all she can see is redemption.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her quietly before looking back at Jameson. I give him a curt nod and he quickly ushers me out of the room and into the hallway, leaving Christine rooted in her place behind us.

  The walk back to my cell is a blur as my mind is caught in a whirlwind of the past and the present. Jameson leads me inside and lightly pushes me to sit down on the bed.

  “That shouldn’t have gone that far,” he concurs, stepping backward. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Fucking reporters are nosy and dig too deep. Don’t let her shit get to you too much.”

  “It was fine. She didn’t do anything wrong and I didn’t tell her anything that I didn’t want her to know.” My voice is hard as I quickly jump to her defense.

  She means nothing, she is nothing.

  My life will soon be nothing.

  “Having feelings in here will get you nowhere fast,” he says, rolling his eyes. “She used you.”

  “I know,” I agree, wiping the sweat from my brow. “And she got more than she came here for.”

  Jameson shrugs and makes his way to the door. “If you’re good with it…”

  I give him a small smile and nod and he nods in return before leaving the cell and locking me in.

  Lying back in my bed, I stare up at the stained ceiling and take a deep breath. My lungs expand breathing in the damp, musty air as my body regains composure. The day replays over in my head, with Christine’s words and her eyes fresh in my mind.

  Jameson was right; she did use me but that was to be expected. She came here with a job to do and that’s exactly what she did. She held the tape recorder as I told her a story as she was promised.

  But the story I told her wasn’t just for her to gain something from. Somewhere within her words, there was a message meant for me. Her responses and reactions held a deeper meaning for me, I just couldn’t see it at the time.

  It was my turn to dig deep, to press play, and reevaluate everything I’ve known for the past twenty years.

  She used me, but I used her too.

  chapter twenty-nine

  PRESENT

  Christine

  As I walk up the concrete stairs, the prison walls loom over me, blocking the sun from my view. The cool air from the shadow penetrates my thin sweatshirt and I quickly rush into the building.

  I go through the security checks, hand over my minimal belongings and have my ID checked before one of the officers leads me to a waiting room.

  It’s late in the afternoon and outside of normal visiting hours, so the room is empty. I drop down onto a hard, plastic chair as the officer leaves to fetch Curtis.

  Coming back here wasn’t a part of my original plan after our interview. Curtis was plagued by the memories of his past and I asked him to expose his open wounds. When I had left that day, the way we ended things didn’t sit right with me. He wasn’t in a good place mentally and the officer had ushered him away before I could make things right.

  When I came here to interview him, it was just a job and another story to be told. Something else happened that day, I got more than just his story. I didn’t come here to form a connection with an inmate on death row, but it happened.

  His words drew me in, and his truth wrapped its arms around me, leaving me paralyzed. He had me trapped.

  The cards he was dealt in life were straight out of the discard pile. He went through hell and made it out alive. The crimes he committed and the lives he took would forever be inexcusable. There is no get out of jail free card in his hand, but what he does deserve is a sense of peace. He’s not the monster that he thinks he is.

  I saw the log in sheet when I had checked in. Curtis had no other visitors.

  He has no one to visit him.

  His execution is scheduled for tomorrow and he’ll be facing it alone with his demons holding his hand.

  Everyone deserves peace and forgiveness and I’m here to give it to him.

  I idly pick at the skin around my nails as I wait in silence. Time moves slowly in a place where it’s quickly running out.

  “Miss Anderson,” the same officer from before pokes his head through the door. “Mr. Matthews is in the visitor’s area if you’d like to see him now.”

  “Yes, of course,” I reply as I stand up and smooth out the creases in my leggings. The officer escorts me out of the room and I follow him down the hallway with my sneakers squeaking at
every step. He leads me through a few locked gates and stops in front of a closed door with a small window.

  “He is restrained and handcuffed to the table. You’re allowed in there alone, but I will be right out here in case something goes wrong,” he tells me as he unlocks the door. “I know Curtis seems harmless, but you can’t forget that he’s a criminal.”

  With a quick nod, I give him a small smile, stepping back as he pulls open the door.

  The officer moves to the side with a grim look on his face. “Take all the time you need… he doesn’t have much of it left.”

  Curtis’ eyes are on me as I walk into the room and the confusion grows thicker as I reach the table and take a seat across from him.

  “Christine?” His brow furrows as he cocks his head to the side. “What are you doing here?”

  My words catch in my throat as Curtis looks at me, truly perplexed by my appearance. “I can’t stay very long, but I wanted to come see you,” I admit hoarsely and clear my throat. “I didn’t get the chance to properly thank you.”

  Curtis waves his hand in the air and shakes his head with a smile. “You don’t need to thank me at all. Did you get everything you needed?”

  “I did,” I assure him with a nod. “I’m sure your story will make a huge difference once we get it out there. The world deserves to see the man beneath the media’s portrayal.”

  Curtis’ face falls as he purses his lips. “The picture they have painted is who I am, Christine. This face that you’re staring at is the face of a monster, of evil.”

  His words are discouraging and sad and they immediately offend me. Why can’t he see that the face looking back at him in the mirror is only an illusion?

  “You are not a monster and you’re not evil. You were raised by terrible people and experienced horrific things growing up, things that most people can’t even imagine.” I pause, catching my breath as he watches me with curiosity. “What you did was not because you’re a monster. It was because you’re human.”