H. A. Carter

by Kimberly Fuller

  “It's all over for you now, Asshole. I'm going to fucking kill you,” I said firmly and stormed off the front steps in a relieved hurry.

  I had said those words many a time in my life with no true intentions. This time I meant it with every inch of my flesh. I wondered if JJ was able to tell the difference.

  35

  Thomas's frozen corpse wilted into the blood stained linoleum. His crimson blood fusing with Mike's in a sickening dance of hot liquid meeting cool air. JJ was still shaking as he sat transfixed on their soulless bodies. Who was once supposed to be my one and only target, I now realized was going to have to be my last. Except...

  A gentle hand caressed my shoulder as I gathered my thoughts back to the task at hand.

  John.

  John, who had once been my friend.

  John, who had once been my best friend.

  John, who had once been a brother to me.

  Now, his life was in my hands. The choice I made right now, in this moment, would make all the difference. Would I choose to kill the only friend I had ever had or spare his insolence and give him another chance to redeem himself to the world.

  Tick tock, Harvey. The fuzz is sure to be on their way by now.

  I drew in a deep breath, ready to answer that question of not what I was killing, but what I was allowing to let live. Did he deserve to live?

  “This is your decision, Harvey,” a soft voice whispered through my thoughts.

  John didn't cry, didn't beg me for mercy, he didn't even look me in the eye.

  “Get the fuck out of here,” I said flatly.

  I couldn't quite tell if it was relief or perhaps guilt that washed over John's face as I spoke. I believe deep down he was truly sorry for turning his back on me. Perhaps he even missed me as a friend as I did him. Either way, I felt after all these years, he was still a good guy. One of the best in my book, even after leaving me behind.

  John rose slowly, half expecting me to change my mind. He just stood there, vacant. I could feel his anguish that had built up over the past few years. The shamefulness he felt within himself now radiating as he stood to die.

  “Shoot me, Harvey,”

  “Leave, John! Just leave!” I screamed.

  “No, I can't! I knew, Man. I knew!” he called back, sobs now slowly being released through his tough exterior.

  My face grew hot as all the anger building in me made a last ditch effort to burst from my body. I tried not to believe him, even now, and to just let him go, but he persisted.

  “Please, Harvey, just kill me! I knew what they were going to do to her, and I didn't stop them. I didn't stop it! Hell, I was supposed to join in!” he peered beside me with bloodshot tear-filled eyes, “I'm so sorry for what happened to you! I'm so sorry! I should have done something! I should have told! I should have stopped it! Please tell him to kill me! Please! I don't deserve to live!”

  I was awestruck by his confession and deeply heartbroken at the same time. I closed my eyes as moist tears trickled down my cheeks. She knew just as well as I did that I couldn't kill him, even had I intended on it.

  “Get down on your knees, Maggot!” I screamed in his face. He cowered like a beaten dog, weeping uncontrollably at my feet.

  John slumped to floor, his mess of tears leaving dark round droplets on his pant legs. He hung his head in shame as I stuck his own gun against the top of his head.

  “You were my friend,” I said softly.

  John cried out louder, choking on his spit as he bawled. Drool began to gather in pools on the

  floor below him.

  I lifted the gun as more screams filled the echoing room around us. I brushed my hand across the dampness on my face, flicking sweat from the tips of my fingers.

  “Are you ready to die, Maggot?” I shouted hoarsely.

  John cried out sharply. The shame in his voice seeped achingly through my bones.

  “Aaagghhh!” I growled, swinging my arm hard and fast, striking him on the back of head with a deafening thud. John moaned slightly and dropped peacefully to the ground. I nudged my hand into the pocket of John's flannel shirt.

  Good night, Sweet Prince.

  “You did the right thing.”

  “I know.”

  36

  I spared John that day. That single act still stands as the one choice I do not regret. Not only had I spared the life of my once best friend, but also sentenced him to a lifetime of emotional punishment having to live with himself after all he had done. Two birds with one stone, I guess.

  I wonder if he thinks about me anymore? He's forced himself to stop talking to me. The new meds must be helping. I don't blame him. Most days I wouldn't want to talk to me either, but it doesn't mean I'm not just a little curious. I've thought about John a lot over the last few years I've spent Here. The brief memories that have seeped up are mostly ones of regret and shame after he abandoned our friendship, but there are those few that slip in, unnoticed, that always bring a smile to my skeletal face. Sweet memories of uncharted imaginations running a muck and wild, tearing down the walls of the troubled realities we would otherwise endure. We were like two peas in a pod, kindred spirits, we were Batman and Robin for Christ sakes!

  No matter what he did, he was still my best friend. Even had he joined JJ that night, somehow, I think I'd still forgive him. It sounds so crazy to admit it, but it's true. Even when he turned his on me, I still had his back.

  Perhaps that small fragment of truth is one of but a few rare pieces of evidence I have to argue for my humanity. If ever I begin to give in to the constant whispers that I am nothing more than a demon, all I have to do is think of those little moments. I never said that I was a great human, just that I am one.

  37

  My feet shuffled back and forth as I waited outside John's house. I could hear his parents arguing loudly from the living room, wafting outside to where I stood. Not much could be understood, but the hatred in their voices was clear as day. I felt bad for John when they fought. I think he thought it was his fault for some reason that they fought, but I knew some people just didn't belong together. My mother was a firm believer in that. Just as I was about to walk down the street, John emerged from the door. Shame and embarrassment painted sadly across his face. I decided against asking what the fight was about this time and tried to play it off like I hadn't heard.

  “So, you wanna go play some catch at my place?”

  John sighed in relief and nodded his head.

  We walked down the street side by side, but as emotionally distant as the moon and sun. I shoved my hands deep in my pockets and kicked some rocks as we strolled the few blocks to my house. I peered at John's solemn form beside me. Quiet crystal tears rolled down his cheeks.

  I stopped walking. I couldn't take this anymore.

  “John, your parents are stupid. None of what they do is ever your fault. They just suck,” I finished my rant in a huff and waited for John's rebuttal.

  The tears down John's cheeks began to dry in the warm breeze. Suddenly John lunged forward and hugged me tightly. He squeezed my torso so hard I couldn't breathe.

  “John...John...,” I choked out weakly.

  “Oh, sorry,” he laughed as he let go. I coughed heavily, my lungs burned slightly as the air seeped back into them.

  John lowered his head, “You're a great friend, Harv. I'm not sure what I'd ever do without you.”

  I blushed idiotically at the compliment. I could easily say the same thing about John since he was the only friend I had ever had. I settled for a punch to his arm instead of any sort of vocal thanks.

  “Hey now!” he joked rubbing his arm. I knew I hadn't hurt him, but I was thankful he tried to build my self esteem anyway.

  “Alright, enough of this baby shit. Let's go,” he said smiling and shoving me as we started back towards my house again.

  38

  “You want to see something cool?”

  I could feel his eagerness filling every inch of his spacious bedroom.
John was practically jumping out of his skin to reveal another one of his “secret” presents. Since John's parents had split last year, his father's presents were often kept secret from his mom. These secret presents were mostly highly expensive and highly dangerous items that no parent in their right mind would ever let their hormone fueled preteen come anywhere near, except those that are desperately seeking love and affection only to hurt their ex. John's dad was such a man.

  John's half shaky, excited arms reached deep under the confines of his bed, grabbed a heavy dark object, and rose slowly. I peered down under the bed, now intrigued more than ever that John had to hide his new gift even though we were in his father's new house in which normal rules didn't apply. The light glinted over shiny metal as John's face glued itself to mine waiting to see my reaction, a cartoonish smile spread across his face. I craned my neck closer to John's bed and instantly froze as his secret gift was finally revealed.

  John stared impatiently, waiting for me to say something. I was speechless, mouth agape. The blood drained out of my head and straight to my toes, rendering me almost incapable of any kind of mindful reaction.

  “Well? What do you think? Isn't it the coolest?!”

  I half nodded half gurgled a semi reasonable answer, sufficient enough for John to lose focus on my reaction and concentrate instead on the thick shiny metallic handgun waving aimlessly in his knobby hand. He grabbed it with both hands and began randomly aiming at objects around his room, pretending to be a gangster.

  “Pop, pop!” he bellowed, a diabolical smile smeared across his face.

  “John, are you sure that's a good thing to have around? I mean, neither one of us knows anything about guns.”

  He rolled his eyes, slightly annoyed at my lack of enthusiasm, “Listen, my dad says it's cool as long as I keep it just in my room. It's harmless, Harvey. Please, just trust me. Look, it's not even loaded! I keep the bullets in my drawer. Nothing to worry about, okay?”

  I nodded silently, hoping he would put the gun away and just forget about it like all the rest of his new “toys”. I thought quickly as to how to remove myself from the situation without hurting his feelings.

  “So, I'm starving, can we get something to eat?”

  John glanced at me with a vacant uncomprehending expression. He slowly came back down to Earth as my question began to sink in. He glanced down at the glimmering gun in his hand. A thick quiet fell over the room as he contemplated whether or not to put it down. After a long hesitation, John bent over and replaced the gun back under his bed. I let out a heavy sigh of relief and smiled as he stood back up.

  “What are you hungry for?” he smiled broadly, almost seeming to be ignorant of the potential killer hiding just a few feet away under the skirt of his bed.

  “You know me. I'm not picky, whatever you got,” I said reassuringly as we left the room.

  I followed John's lead, glancing back ever so slightly at the dark foreboding shadows that held the gun. Worry rose in the pit of my stomach as we walked out the door.

  *

  Not a day goes by that I don't rue the day I laid eyes on that damn thing. I regret even more my glorious plan to make the world a safer place by stealing it the following week when the newness had

  finally worn off. John, luckily, had moved on to admiring the new gaming system his father had bribed him with to ever notice that it went missing. I kept it locked away in the dark caverns of my closet for years. Lying silent and dormant like an ancient plague waiting for the perfect person to infect and wreak havoc on humanity.

  I hate John's father even still for all of his “gifts” to John.

  I hope he knows it was his gun.

  39

  Hot tears moisten my dry chalky cheeks, leaving dark streams down the center before finally dropping and disappearing into the thick emptiness below me. I miss them all so much. I want things to go back to the way they used to be, when John and I were friends. When life didn't seem quite so overwhelming due only in part to the fact that he stood beside me walking down the crowded hallways. I didn't fear the world quite as much back then. I'm glad I let him live. Truly, I am. Why the hell hadn't I let the others live too?

  JJ had to die though. That was inevitable. After what he did, there is no other punishment fit for that kind of cold cruelty. But, the rest, looking back now, I should have spared as well.

  I should have just stuck to my own plan. Simple. Easy. Final.

  She always knew what to say to get her way though. Why couldn't I have just told her no? Just that once.

  Maybe. Just maybe, I wouldn't hate it Here so much. Had I just said no, maybe I wouldn't even care.

  Maybe.

  My damaged heart hurts so badly I can hardly stand. The ache inside my chest overpowers every emotion any human can possess. I desperately want to reach deep inside my soul and remove that part of her that tortures me every day, just for some kind of relief. Any kind of relief.

  But, in reality I could never remove her from my tattered heart. She's the only thing that keeps the brokenness within me together. Only her love was able to piece together the shattered fragments of my existence. She's the only reason why I haven't gone completely insane Here. I keep reminding myself day after day that I continue to endure this for her. I would give anything for her. I gave up everything for her.

  40

  “Mom? Are you okay?”

  My mother wiped her dewy watery eyes quickly before turning toward me, a forceful smile spreading across her face.

  “Of course, Kiddo!”

  I gave my mother a worried glance before nodding quietly, appeasing her well performed act of content. Why did she always feel the need to pretend like everything was okay? She knows I'm not stupid.

  “So, big plans for the dance?” she asked nonchalant.

  I rolled my eyes in contempt. Not this shit again.

  “No, Mom. I don't have plans. How many times do we have to go over this? I don't do dances,” I answered shortly.

  My mother lowered her gaze, slightly deflated. I knew she really wanted to see me go out on dates, go to parties, have a girlfriend. You know, all the “normal” teenage stuff. What she didn't want to admit to was the fact that I was the out cast, and would comply to none of those typical teenage things. A heavy wave of shame engulfed me as I watched her sigh sadly and turn away. I knew I should tell her about Joanna, but it wasn't quite time yet. We both had agreed that we would tell our families when the time was right. The right time being after graduation. Joanna's father would go ape shit if he knew about me. I wasn't good enough for his little girl, and he would see to it that I never would be.

  God, I couldn't wait to graduate and get the hell out of this place.

  I watched my mom go back to her busy work, cleaning the same spot mindlessly for the third time, and wondered if she and Joanna would like each other. I wondered if they would laugh and joke,

  sharing embarrassing stories about me and giggle when I walk in the room. A euphoric smirk crept

  across the corner of my mouth picturing my mother pointing out my chubby face and lack of hair in one of her many old photo albums, excited to actually be showing them to someone else besides John and I. She'd like her. I just know she would. She has to.

  “Mom, I think the counter is clean.”

  “What? Oh, yeah, I guess so.”

  “Please don't worry about me, Mom. Just give me some more time, and you'll see everything will be okay. I'm just a late bloomer,” I joked, smiling reassuringly.

  She looked doubtful as she tossed her towel on the counter. A heavy, heartfelt sigh protruded through her body as she leaned softly against the fridge.

  “I'll always worry about you, Harvey. I'm your mom, it's kind of my job,” she chuckled.

  “Just, this time, don't worry. Please trust me.”

  She nodded her head twice in exaggeration, “If you say so, Kid.”

  You just wait, Mom. You'll see. It'll all be okay...

  *
r />   I wish she had known the truth. Of all the other people in the world, I wish she would have been the one to know the truth as well. Maybe she wouldn't hurt so much knowing that I had been happy at one point. That I was loved.

  But, no, what does she get to think? That I was nothing more than a heartless monster who planned to kill five people in a seemingly unprovoked act of malice and jealousy in front of dozens of

  young vulnerable innocent eyes.

  I love how the media always makes them out to be the poor “innocent” victims of a cruel tragedy. As if they had never committed any kind of crime at any point in their lives. As if JJ had been

  a perfect human specimen. Those innocent eyes who laughed every time JJ got the best of me. Those innocent eyes who let the true horror take place and did nothing about it! Well, I did do something about it. That truth though can stay buried. That's not how I want anyone to remember her. That's not how I want to remember her. I pray They let it stay that way.

  41

  No matter how glad I am that I let John live, I'm almost just as happy that I took JJ's life. If ever there was a man who deserved to be punished for his crime, it was him. That horrible son of a bitch.

  I know he's rotting in his own hell right now.

  42

  I waited frantically next to the rusty metal slide for several anxious minutes, sure she wasn't going to show up. I had arrived twenty minutes early, and was now awkwardly counting down the time. I paced nervously back and forth, wearing down a smooth path in the grass. I shook my head, angry with myself for actually believing something could go right in my life for once. How could I be so stupid to think she was telling the truth? I must have been delusional thinking someone would ever care about me.