Suicide Med

by Freida McFadden

  I close my eyes and shake my head to clear it. Maybe she’s right. Anyone would be hearing things if they had so little sleep. I look up at her dark brown hair and remember how I’d been surprised, the first time I touched it, by how soft it was. I haven’t touched Ginny’s hair in a long time. I wonder how I let myself screw things up with her. If only I hadn’t brought her home with me that night… maybe we’d be something more than friends right now.

  “Ginny, do you… do you want to go to the locker rooms with me?” I ask half-heartedly.

  She shakes her head, “You know we have our final exam coming up. I’ve got to study…”

  “What if I promise to shower first?” I say, flashing my most charming smile.

  Ginny laughs and kisses the top of my head. “Go get some sleep, Mason.”

  And just like that, I feel better. I feel like maybe I could go home and get some sleep that night. I walk back out to my car, my eyelids growing heavier by the second. For the first time in days, my heart is beating at a normal pace. Ginny is right. I’m just putting too much stress on myself.

  Or maybe…

  I unlock the door to my car, trying to push away the thoughts intruding on my brain. I have to get home. I have to get to sleep. I have to study.

  Or maybe she’s in on it too.

  Chapter 28

  I didn’t even realize I had dozed off until I hear the phone ringing. I open my eyes and take in the darkness of the room. Was it dark when I first went to sleep? I can’t even remember anymore.

  I glance over at the computer, trying to remember what it is I had been reading when I drifted off. The phone is still ringing and the sound is like nails on a chalkboard. I gingerly take the phone off the hook and hold it close to my ear, listening.

  “Mason?”

  It’s my mother’s voice. I try to answer, but my throat feels really dry and no sound comes out of my mouth.

  “Mason?”

  “Hello,” I finally manage.

  “Oh, thank God,” she says. “Are you all right? I haven’t heard from you in weeks!”

  “Yes,” I say.

  “How is school? How are your classes?”

  “Fine.”

  “Sweetheart, you sound really tired,” she says. “I know your dad puts a lot of pressure on you, but you need to take care of yourself. Are you sleeping enough?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you be coming home for Christmas?” she asks me.

  “I don’t know.”

  “But, Mason—”

  “I have to go.”

  I’m twenty-two years old and an adult now. She knows she can’t intrude on my life if I don’t let her.

  “Okay, honey,” she says. “But… let me know if you need anything. Anything at all.”

  “I will.”

  The truth is that I can’t remember the last time I’ve been to class or to lab. It somehow all faded into the background. I’m trying to save my reputation. My reputation and my life. And put a murderer behind bars, where he belongs.

  But nothing I do seems to bring me closer to that goal. As it is now, I have nothing. No evidence of wrongdoing. Conlon’s just going to get away with this.

  Unless…

  The idea, once in my head, suddenly seems so obvious. I check the date and time on my computer and am surprised to see that it’s Saturday. Saturday night. Nobody will be around the hospital, except for a few janitors. I’ll have the place to myself… all the time in the world to bust into Dr. Conlon’s office and search for dirt on him.

  I pull a pair of dirty jeans on over my boxer shorts. I haven’t changed shirts in over a week, at least, but it’s not like I need to look presentable. I shove my bare feet into my sneakers and pull on my dark brown jacket. I grab my car keys off my dresser and as I drop them into my pocket, I felt the cold metal against my fingers. My father’s gun.

  I hesitate, my fingers still on the gun. Something deep inside me is telling me to take the gun out of my pocket and leave it in my room. There isn’t going to be anyone at the hospital this late. And if there is… well, maybe it’s better if I don’t have a gun.

  And then I hear that horrible voice again in my ear.

  Take the gun, Mason.

  I slowly remove my hand from my pocket, leaving the gun inside.

  Not so fast. You still have to load it.

  _____

  I drive to the school at a steady pace, keeping my eyes pinned on the road. I’m completely focused on the task at hand, like a secret agent infiltrating enemy headquarters. I keep my lights off though. I’m not sure, but it seems like there is a good chance someone might be following me. Well, it’s not impossible.

  I flash my identification at the security guard by the entrance. The guard barely looks at me. That’s good… better if nobody can identify me later. If I find evidence to incriminate Dr. Conlon, everyone will understand—but if I don’t, well, this might look really bad. And I’m certain that Dr. Conlon will do everything in his power to destroy me when he discovers that I busted into his office.

  The building is completely empty and the sound of my sneakers hitting the tiled floor sounds like claps of thunder. I try to walk quietly, but urgency gets the better of me. I feel my heart racing. Hell, I can hear my heart thumping in my chest.

  I pass by the anatomy lab and see that the lights are on and there’s movement inside the room. Two girls from my class. Leave it to med students to be spending their Saturday night in a lab with a bunch of dead bodies. I’m irritated because it means that I’ll have to really make an effort to be quiet.

  When I reached Dr. Conlon’s office, however, I’m shocked. There’s a light on under the door. It’s almost midnight on a Saturday night—how could Conlon still be in his office? Now what the hell am I supposed to do?

  Of course, maybe this is a good thing. Maybe I can persuade Conlon to tell me the truth.

  I shove my hands deep into my jacket pockets and feel the reassuring cold metal of my father’s gun. It’s true—nobody says no to a gun in their face. At least, certainly not an anatomy professor.

  I take a deep breath and knock on the door.

  There’s loud shuffling on the other side of the door. I hear Dr. Conlon’s voice: “Who’s there?”

  “It’s Mason Howard.”

  More shuffling. This is far longer than he ought to be taking to unlock the door. What the hell is going on in there anyway? Is he hiding evidence? I wait, my hands still in my pockets. Finally, I hear the door unlock and Dr. Conlon is staring at me. I notice that the professor’s black hair is tousled and his glasses are somewhat askew.

  “Mason… what are you doing here?”

  I slip through the opening in the door. I notice that Dr. Conlon gasps slightly when he sees me in the light.

  “I could ask the same question of you,” I reply.

  Dr. Conlon rubs his eyes, “I had some work to catch up on.” He limps around the side of his desk and collapses into his seat.

  “Oh really?” I say. “Is that the excuse you’re using?”

  Dr. Conlon’s face darkens. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “What did you come here for?” Dr. Conlon demands. “To blackmail me? Is that what this is about?”

  “No, I came here for the truth!” I punctuate my statement by slamming my fist onto the desk. The professor jumps in his chair and stares up at me.

  “Look, Mason…” Dr. Conlon is getting nervous now—it’s painfully obvious. Good. “If you need help, I’ll help you. There’s still a few days left before the exam. Whatever the problem is…”

  “I want answers,” I say. My fist closes around the handle of the gun.

  “I can’t tell you the answers,” Dr. Conlon says, shaking his head.

  “Maybe I can convince you then,” I say.

  I pull my father’s Magnum from my pocket and point it at Dr. Conlon’s face.

  All of the color drains from the profess
or’s face. He stares at the gun in disbelief, his fingers gripping the edge of the table so hard that his knuckles turn white.

  He looks up at me, “Mason, don’t do this. It’s not worth it.”

  “Tell me the truth then,” I say, shaking the gun. “Tell me how Frank died.”

  Dr. Conlon’s dark brows knit together. “Frank?”

  “The body lying on Table 13!” I nearly scream the words. “Tell me how you killed him.”

  “Oh, Christ,” Dr. Conlon mutters, shaking his head. “Listen to me, Mason. I didn’t kill anyone. I have no idea what you’re talking about. You need to calm down.”

  “Don’t try to trick me!” I snap. I press the muzzle of the Magnum into Dr. Conlon’s forehead. “Who has the gun, huh?”

  “You do,” Dr. Conlon says through his teeth.

  “Tell me how you killed him,” I say. “And how you killed Brett. And Mary. And Jared. And…”

  Dr. Conlon slowly raises his hands into the air, “Mason, I swear to you: I have no idea what you’re talking about. Those kids… they… they killed themselves. It’s horrible, but…”

  He’s lying. He’s so obviously lying.

  “I swear to you,” Dr. Conlon repeats. His light blue eyes are calm.

  “There isn’t time for this bullshit,” I say. “I need to know the truth!”

  “I swear to you, Mason,” he says again.

  I cock the gun. I want to see Conlon squirm, but he’s not doing it. He’s just slumped down in his seat, staring down the chamber of the pistol with resignation in his eyes.

  Enough of this bullshit. Time to show him I’m serious.

  “I’m going to give you one more chance,” I say, the gun now pointed directly at my professor’s forehead. “Tell me how you killed Frank.”

  I pray that Conlon will come clean with me. Because I know I don’t have a choice anymore.

  Dr. Conlon shakes his head. He speaks the next sentence slowly and clearly, “I’m really sorry.”

  He’s sorry. It’s as good as a confession, as far as I’m concerned.

  So I squeeze the trigger, just like my father taught me to do when I was a kid.

  The force of the gun firing travels up the length of my arm and knocks me backwards slightly. I haven’t fired a gun in a long time and I’d forgotten to compensate for the backwards momentum. When I lower the pistol, I feel a sharp ache in my shoulder.

  Dr. Conlon’s head is slumped forward. There are little pieces of skull and brain splattered all over the wall behind him. It looks so… real. Unlike the cadaver, which never looked quite like a real human being. I let the gun slip from my fingers and fall onto the floor. I stare at my anatomy professor’s dead body as the bile rises up in my throat.

  “Oh God, oh God, oh God…” I whisper the words over and over again as I fall to my knees on the floor.

  He deserved this. You did what you had to do.

  “Shut-up!” I scream. I bury my face in my hands and rock back and forth. I’ve done something too horrible for words. And what’s more, I know it’s far from over.

  I still have five bullets left in the gun.

  And there are witnesses.

  The two girls in the anatomy lab. Surely they heard the gun go off. I’ve got to get rid of them. If I don’t, I’ll spend the rest of my life in prison.

  There’s no taking back what I’ve just done. My hand rests on the gun on the floor. I pick it up and place it back in my jacket pocket. I struggle to my feet and head in the direction of the anatomy lab.

  Part 3: Abe

  Chapter 29

  “Look to your left, look to your right. In four years, both of these people will be doctors.”

  Following the instructions of the dean of the medical school, I look to my left, coming face to face with a maroon-painted wall. I blink a few times, then turn to my right, where there is an empty seat. And next to that empty seat is my roommate Mason, who looks like he has completely lost respect for me now that I’m playing along with the dean.

  I don’t entirely blame him.

  I sigh and am about to turn my attention back to the dean, when something catches my eye. Or should I say, someone. Her.

  The girl I’m going to marry.

  You’re probably rolling your eyes right now and I don’t blame you. I feel sort of like a tool saying it. My friends from college would kick my ass. But I can’t help myself—I’m freaking in love. This girl, this crazy beautiful girl, is my exact type. I didn’t even know I had a type until I saw her. I’m not what you’d call a ladies’ man. But at the moment I saw her, I could practically hear harps playing in the background. I knew I’d be willing to do anything for that girl.

  Most of the rest of the morning, I can’t quit staring at her. I try not to be too obvious about it, but sheesh, I’ve really got it bad.

  And then at lunch, I manage to step on her toes with my big clumsy foot. And I find out her name is Heather. And she has a boyfriend.

  But who knows? Maybe I’ll get lucky.

  Stranger things have happened.

  _____

  I’ve never had a girlfriend before. For obvious reasons. If any girl found out about my… well, you know… it’s just not something I’ve ever wanted to risk. There hasn’t been a girl I’ve met before that I thought would be worth it. I was lonely, yes—but not lonely enough.

  Heather is worth the risk though. For sure.

  Not that I have any chance with her. She is way out of my league. Sometimes I think I’m completely kidding myself by holding out even the tiniest hope I’ll end up with her.

  I assume she doesn’t do it intentionally to seduce me, but Heather is pretty touchy feely. She’s always poking me in the arm or playing footsie with me under the table. I know she means it to be innocent and doesn’t have any clue how much it simultaneously excites and tortures me. She’d probably be horrified if she had any idea.

  As we’re studying the female pelvis side by side in the library, Heather does that adorable thing she always does when she doesn’t understand something, which is to crinkle up her nose. She leans forward over our anatomy atlas and I get a whiff of her shampoo. Peaches, like usual. I’m starting to really love the smell of peaches. I bought a bunch of them for our refrigerator, just so I can smell them.

  Is that weird? Yeah, probably.

  “Why is the female pelvis so confusing?” Heather moans.

  She flips the anatomy atlas upside-down, as if that might clarify things.

  “I know, it’s really confusing,” I agree. Although truthfully, I’m not that confused. But it seems to comfort Heather when I agree with her about the difficulty of the material.

  She yawns. “Oh God, I am so tired right now.”

  I expect her to reach for her coffee and take another sip (she’s an addict like I am), but instead she does something totally unexpected. She drops her head onto my shoulder and shuts her eyes.

  I freeze up, scared to move because I don’t want her to pull away and I really don’t want her to realize how much this is turning me on. I feel like she’s got to hear my heart pounding in my chest. I feel like the people at the next table can probably hear it.

  Then Heather lifts her head up and yawns again. “Maybe I need to take a break. I’m going to walk around a little.”

  “Sure,” I reply, too quickly. “Do you want to grab some more coffee?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Actually,” she says. “I was thinking I’d give Seth a call. Is that okay?”

  Seth. That asshole boyfriend of hers. I hate that guy.

  “Go for it,” I say, forcing a smile. “Tell Seth hi,” I add, then I hate myself.

  My hands clench into fists as I watch Heather fiddling with her phone as she leaves the library. This is really frustrating. Sometimes I’m not sure how much more pining over Heather I can take. But then again, I don’t think I could ever give her up, even as a friend.

  “Quit staring at Heather, you pervert.”

 
The voice above my head nearly makes me jump out of my skin until I see Mason slide into the seat next to mine, a knowing grin spreading across his face. Mason can be annoying, but it’s hard not to like the guy. He’s entertaining and he’s incredibly funny, especially if you’re not someone who’s easily offended. Before classes revved up, we shot pool together a few times at a local bar and had a great time, but now Mason is too focused on studying to socialize. I’ve got to admire all the hours he puts into his schoolwork—I work hard but Mason really goes all out.

  “Hey, Hulk,” Mason says, that grin still plastered on his face. He’s been calling me Hulk, after the Incredible Hulk from the comic books. I admit it’s not an entirely unfair comparison. “So what’s going on with you two?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie.

  “Bullshit,” Mason says.

  I shrug innocently.

  “Yeah, okay,” Mason says, still smirking. “I can see why you don’t like her. I mean, she’s only a five. Maybe a six, at best.”

  Asshole. Heather is a ten. She’s an eleven.

  “Just ‘fess up,” Mason says. “Maybe I can help you.”

  I look at Mason with some interest. I’ve noticed the way the pretty girls in our class drool over him. Maybe he actually could give me some decent advice. God knows, I have no clue what I’m doing.

  “Okay, fine,” I say. “I’m interested in her.”

  “No kidding,” Mason says, rolling his eyes.

  I fold my arms across my chest. “So what do I do? How do I get her?”

  “First off,” Mason says. “You need to grow a pair, Abe. Seriously, man. Have some confidence—Heather isn’t that great. She’s just Heather. She’s not out of your league or anything.”

  That’s debatable. Also, Mason isn’t aware of my whole… situation.

  “What about the boyfriend though?” I say.

  Mason laughs. “Boyfriend? Come on—that won’t last. Give it two more weeks.”

  And as it turns out, he’s absolutely right.

  _____

  Two weeks later, on the dot, Heather knocks on the door to my dorm apartment. I hadn’t been expecting her, and strangely enough, when she sees me, her face falls.