“Nick,” she admitted. “I don’t love him. I never did. He was my first boyfriend, and he always talked about how we would end up together.” She blew her nose into the tissue. “But I didn’t love him, and I didn’t know how to tell him. I liked him. A lot. I really did.”
A noise grew from inside her; I couldn’t tell if it was a scream or a sob. I just sat there, letting her talk it out. I didn’t know what to do, though; she was so upset. I didn’t know if what I wanted to do would make her feel better or worse.
“And that’s not even it, Kyle.” She cried. “I’m such a bad person because he is missing and—” She let out another cry again, blowing her nose. She looked like a mess. A sobbing, snotty mess.
“That’s not even the worst part because I’m in love with someone else.”
My ears tuned everything else out. I watched her mouth move; it could’ve been another sentence or a scream, but I couldn’t hear it.
Who is she in love with?
Do I have to compete with another guy?
When will she realize that I want her?
I deserve her.
I was lost in my thoughts, anger filling me. When I looked back at Noelle, she was silent. Her mouth was closed, and her eyes stopped watering. She was just looking at me. Staring at me. Before I knew what was happening, her lips were on mine.
She kissed me. The moment I had waited years for finally happened. Noelle Seong-Hun was kissing me. She chose me. Not Nick. She was kissing me.
And I felt nothing.
~
I left her house soon after that. We didn’t talk about it; we didn’t do it again. Her mom pulled into the driveway and invited me for dinner. I was going to stay until I saw the hundreds of text messages from Mom asking me to come home. I told Mrs. Seong-Hun that I had to leave.
I practically ran home. Mom was supposed to work tonight, so something must’ve happened. My head raced with a million reasons as to why Mom wanted me home. I thought that Henry or Dad were hurt. But when I got to the driveway, only two cars were there. Mom’s and Dad’s.
Henry?
I knew he was supposed to be at work, but maybe something had happened. A nail went through his foot? Chopped his hand off on a saw?
I opened the door to find Mom and Dad sitting at the table. Mom had tears in her eyes while my dad comforted her. It reminded me of the time this happened with Max.
“Our baby is gone,” Mom cried. She turned and placed her head into my dad’s arms. He wrapped them around her, holding her tightly. “He’s gone.”
“I know, honey,” he whispered. “I know.”
I was sitting on the stairs, crying about Max. It was all my fault. I killed their baby. I didn’t mean to, but it was my fault. They didn’t know I was awake and was listening to them.
“What are we going to do?” Mom asked, sniffing. She pulled away from Dad and rubbed her eyes. They were bright red, like a fire truck. Her hair was all messy and was very obviously not brushed. She was holding a bunch of papers.
“Sh, let’s not decide that right now,” he said, pulling her up from the dining table. “Let’s go to bed.”
They were trying to figure out what to do with the body of my little brother.
They ended up burning him.
“Kyle,” Mom whispered, waving me over to the table. I walked slowly toward her. I noticed another person sitting at the table that I didn’t see before. Ms. Walter was sitting there, with her head in her hands, sobbing.
No.
“Kyle, sweetie, I’m so sorry.”
I won’t believe it.
“Come here, son,” Dad ordered me.
I backed away.
No, he can’t be gone.
Because then it’s my fault.
Ms. Walter stood up and walked over to me. Her arms wrapped around my shoulder, but I couldn’t move. I stood there, numb.
No.
Ms. Walter sat back down, still crying. “I’m so sorry, Kyle.”
This is all my fault.
I did this to him.
“Kyle,” Mom said to me. “They found his body a few miles into Warner. He was beaten but alive and made it all the way there until…he died.”
15
Day Twenty-Three
I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t bring myself to even close my eyes. Fear was sitting in my stomach, making every move ten times harder. If I went to turn on my side, the unknown of what was lurking in my room made me sick. I would roll back over to be faced with darkness. After three hours of that, I decided to turn on the light. I watched my windows to make sure no one was watching me. Every time I looked away, my gut screamed at me to look back. To make sure I wasn’t being watched. And every time I did, I was only met with the tree outside my window. The entire night, my thoughts were consistent with the same idea.
It’s your fault.
You killed him.
He’s dead because of you.
You did this.
They will know soon.
They are going to kill you next.
It was as if someone was hunched over my shoulder whispering these things into my ear. It sounded like someone else was in my room, reading my death note to me as a bedtime story. Whenever I imagined the face that was speaking to me, I saw Nick. Nick’s bloody, disfigured face with a dent the size of a rock in his skull. I imagined him opening his mouth, taunting me.
“You murdered me.” He hissed. “You’re a murderer.”
I murdered him.
I’m a murderer.
Before I knew it, the sun shined through the windows. It proved that no one was watching me, and I had enough energy to get out of bed. When I stood up, I could still hear the voice telling me things I already knew. Making the pain of knowing the information worse.
Stop…
I slammed my head with my fists to quieten the attacks that were screaming at me. I pulled my trembling hands from my hair and focused on them. They looked like they were vibrating; I couldn’t stop them. The thoughts only grew louder as I gave up the urge to fight back. There was nothing I could do. The accusations were right.
I am a murderer.
I walked past my bathroom, peeking inside. The room was lit by the sun coming in through the window. My sink was gross and dirty with toothpaste I forgot to clean out. I pushed on the door slightly to see the mirror. I stared at my reflection, trying to remember how much progress I made. I was doing good. I was happy.
That was before you knew.
Before you knew you were a murderer.
I closed my eyes for a moment, reliving what had happened to me these past few weeks. Nick being dead, then missing. And I was doing better. Now he’s dead again. I was stuck in a train that was just traveling in circles, and there was no way out.
Well, there is one way out.
When I opened my eyes again, a boy was standing right beside me. I could’ve touched him. He had no expression on his face. He was just staring at me through the mirror. I was too tired to fight back. I didn’t close my eyes; I didn’t break the mirror. I looked back at the boy.
“Nick?” I asked him. He did a slight nod. I watched as he turned and faced the window. I followed him there. He reached his hands up to unlock it. His hands were covered in dirt and blood. I then noticed how much blood was on him. His shirt was covered, and it was dripping onto his pants. Dirt was all over his body, and there was a gash along his cheek.
He looks like me the night he went missing.
Nick unlocked the window and slid it open with ease. He pushed the screen door out and let the fresh air in. It hit both of us at the same time. Nick closed his eyes and started humming. He did that all the time when we were younger.
My hands started to sweat. I could feel my heart jumping out of my rib cage and slamming into my chest. For once, my head was empty. It was like my brain left my body here to fend for its own. Nick opened his eyes and pointed out the window.
“Your turn.”
When I turned to see
him, he was gone. Not a trace of him even being there. No blood or dirt left behind. The wind stopped blowing in my face, and I realized the window never actually opened.
Murderer.
I didn’t change my clothes. I didn’t even put on deodorant. I threw on a black hoodie and made my way to the stairs. Before I took one step, I could hear faint voices below me.
“I’ll drive him, Henry.” Mom bickered. “You don’t do anything to help out your brother. His best friend just died, and you can’t even give him a ride to school!”
I heard chairs scraping against the floor and metal clanging together. Footsteps stomped around in the kitchen.
“He shouldn’t even be going to school,” Henry argued. Which was a good point. “And besides, I’m the last person he wants to be trapped in a car with.”
“He needs to go to school because he can’t be alone right now. I tried to call off work, but we have about twenty burn victims from a barbecue that went wrong, alright? And about fifteen interns who don’t know what they are doing,” she explained, marching around. I could hear her heels click against the tiles each time she made a step.
She thinks I’m going to kill myself.
Maybe you should.
I took a step on the stairs, making sure it creaked by adding pressure. Shushing echoed up the stairs, but the walking around continued. I dragged my feet into the kitchen and stood in the doorway. My father was sitting at the end of the table on his phone. He had burnt pancakes in front of him, untouched. Henry was next to him, in his uniform, poking at his plate of pancake batter. Mom was standing by the oven wearing an apron. Her hair was tied back into a messy bun. When she turned around to face me, she was covered in flour and batter.
“Hi, Kyle,” she greeted, huffing. “How are you doing, sweetie?”
I am a murderer.
How do you think I’m doing?
“Fine.” I sighed. I tried to walk toward the door, only to be stopped by my worrying mother.
“Where are you going?”
The door was painted black a few months ago. It was starting to chip on the edge. The blue paint underneath it was revealing. I told Dad to chip off the paint, then paint it, but he said no. A few days later when it started to chip on its own, he agreed that it was a clever idea.
“School,” I barked. She either didn’t notice my snappiness or chose to ignore it because she kept a smile on her face.
“But I made pancakes.” She held up a plate of burnt pieces of pancakes mixed with uncooked batter.
She’s trying to kill me, isn’t she?
If she knew the truth.
“I’m good.”
Dad stood up and started stretching his arms. A loud yawn escaped his mouth. He turned to me with his hands on his hips and offered me a ride.
“I’ll take you to school. It’s only a little out of my way.”
Mom said goodbye to me and told me to be safe. While she hugged me, Henry flipped me off. I normally would return the favor, but my arms were too weak to even lift. Henry noticed this too and just smirked at me.
If I get caught.
He’s the next to go.
Dad and I made our way to his Ford Escape. I climbed into the front seat while he started the car. For most of the ride, we were silent. The radio wasn’t even turned on. Which meant that I had nothing to focus on besides my thoughts.
Murderer.
You should just die.
No one wants you here anyway.
It felt like the voice was whispering to me from the back seat. I kept shifting my eyes to the mirror to see if anyone was sitting there, but there was no one.
I can’t punch out my thoughts.
“How are you doing, Kyle?” Dad asked, his eyes pacing from the road and to me. I shrugged when he was looking my way. He nodded, facing back toward the road.
“Nick was a good kid.”
He’s dead.
“He was a part of our family as well.”
He’s gone.
“We knew him since he was a kid.”
I killed him.
“We just can’t mope around about it.”
What?
Dad cleared his throat and took a sharp left turn. We were only a few minutes away from my school at this point. I could even see it down the street. I prayed that a car would come crashing into us and kill me. Just me.
“Nick’s passing is sad. I was even angry about it, but he wouldn’t want us to be depressed about it, so we have to move on.”
We pulled into the school, and he parked a bit away from the building. We were in the last line of the parking spaces. No one was around us; everyone was closer to the school. Nothing had changed. People were still outside, laughing and chatting with their friends. As if a kid that they had been going to school with forever didn’t die.
“You don’t know anything about Nick, so don’t act like you do.” I spat at him. His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to yell, but I slammed the door and jumped out.
“Kyle!” he barked. I shut the door with a loud bang and stomped away. Luke wasn’t waiting for me by the stairs, and Noelle wasn’t hanging out with her friends. They both skipped school. Rightfully so, he was close with them. I just couldn’t be alone.
I got to the stairs where Luke and I would meet. Instead, I was greeted by another bloody Nick. He was sitting on the steps, hunched over. He was wearing a backpack that was stained with a dark liquid. I stared at him for a few moments before giving in and sitting down next to him.
“You aren’t real,” I muttered. He nodded but kept his head facing the concrete. I wanted to push him, knock him over, and run away. My muscles refused to give into that. I had enough energy to hit him, but there was no running.
Nick looked up at me, bruises all around his face. The blood from earlier was gone, but the dent remained. It looked like it had gotten deeper, reached more inside of his skull. He smiled, showing his cracked teeth off. Some were missing, making him appear younger.
“We should do it, you know,” he whispered in my ear. It didn’t even register with me that he spoke until a few minutes after.
“What?” I asked. Not sure what I was asking, though.
“I have pills. We could both end it in the bathroom. They are just sitting on your counter,” he responded, shoving his head into his hands.
“Pills?”
He looked back at me and smirked. Blood from his backpack started pouring out and reaching the steps of the school. He turned his head to the side, his throat showing that now was sliced open. It didn’t even look cut because of the dark blood pouring from his neck.
“To die,” he replied.
“Kyle?” a voice behind me asked. I turned to see an older lady standing. She smiled at me and asked me to follow her to the principal’s office. I agreed reluctantly and left the perfectly clean spot at which I was sitting.
No blood.
No Nick.
The lady led me into the principal’s office. Mr. Finn sat at his desk, typing loudly on his laptop. He didn’t even notice I was there until the lady cleared her throat.
“Ah, Kyle.” Mr. Finn spoke, giving me a warm smile. “Sit.”
He motioned to the chair in front of his desk. It was a wooden chair with a black cushion on it. There were three of them lined up there. I looked at the chairs and sat in the middle. The lady left the room and shut the door behind her. Hearing the door close made me feel trapped. My body immediately came up with an escape plan.
Windows.
Grab the chair and throw it out the window.
The glass will shatter, and you can use one of the pieces to defend yourself.
I pictured myself grabbing the glass. I could see the moment I took the sharp weapon and plunged it into Mr. Finn’s neck. His cry for help I would hear, with the blood trickling down. I would be pushing it in so hard I would start to bleed. Our blood combining on the floor, making a little pool.
“How are you, Kyle?” he asked, folding his arms.
He held a pen in his hand, clicking it. The noise echoed in my skull until another voice appeared.
“He wants to kill you with that pen.”
I didn’t need to look to know who was talking. I could feel Nick beside me, hear his breathing. I knew he was sitting in the chair next to me, feeding me these lies.
But I didn’t care that they were lies.
I believed him, anyways, because I wanted to.
He wants to kill me.
Nick leaned in closer and whispered in my ear, “Because he knows.”
He knows.
Mr. Finn tilted his head to the side, waiting for a response. I just nodded, which made him smile.
Is he making fun of me?
“Of us,” Nick replied.
I turned to look at Nick. He wasn’t bloody or bruised. He didn’t have teeth missing. He wasn’t mad at me. He wasn’t trying to get me to kill myself. He didn’t have a dent in his head. He wasn’t yelling at me. He was smiling.
He is trying to help me.
Save me even.
“Nick was a friend to many people. Touched the hearts of so many. Even mine,” Mr. Finn rambled. “Such a good kid didn’t deserve such fate.”
“He wanted me dead,” Nick informed me. “He wants you dead.”
Wants me dead.
“However,” Mr. Finn continued. He took off his glasses and started rubbing his eyes. “Life doesn’t stop.”
Nick snorted next to me. Which made me snort. Mr. Finn shot a look at me, which made me want to scream that Nick did it first. I realized that if I had said that, it wouldn’t have been long until I was back in that psych ward.
“I wanted to see if you would help me plan an assembly for Nick. Students could talk about him, and we could all get to know him a little better. It would give everyone closure.” Mr. Finn smiled, looking all proud. As if he single-handedly just saved every depressed kid in America.
“No,” Nick snapped.
“No,” I repeated.
Mr. Finn was taken aback. He shook his head and frowned, a line creasing in between his eyebrows. “I’m not sure you understand—”
Believing Lies Page 15