Freak

by Alicia Masterson

  Brian no longer had the coordination to do much more than throw him around against random objects, Brian too drunk to be able to protest, better yet fight back, or dodge, or anything. The rest of the night inevitably faded into an awful, painful blur.

  Brian was currently on the ground, sputtering a small amount of blood, the pain in his chest becoming very real. He waited fearfully for Brian to come again, but something he didn't expect happened. Just as Brian reached down to pick him up again, he lost his balance, instead inadvertently body slamming him, putting a huge amount of pressure on Brian's already fractured ribs. Their foreheads were touching, but neither of their eyes were open.

  He could practically feel his own ribs pressing into his skin and lungs, but Brian showed no intention of getting up, and Brian had no ability to move him. Despite all of the pain he was in, Brian felt water droplets steadily drip between his eyes, and a small thought formed in his head. He's crying himself to sleep. And he's not going to wake up. The tears were enough to keep him awake despite the pain, mostly because he knew instinctively that it would be too late for Brian once his tears stopped.

  --

  "Brian, are you here? Brian?" Christine called hesitantly, scared because neither of them were answering her phone calls. It had been several hours, and it was already getting dark. Before the sun faded completely, she looked around for a light switch. The brightly illuminated foyer shone like a gemstone against the dark rooms adjacent to it.

  She felt a sudden sense of urgency, and she hurried around the first floor, looking for any signs of them. The second room she entered, she knew had to be the right one. She flicked on a light switch, and the wreckage from that afternoon was immediately evident. Christine looked around the room earnestly as she passed through it, almost literally tripping on the unconscious pair in her haste

  She shrieked from the ghastly surprise, pulling out her phone, calling 911 as quickly as she could. The scene was a morbid mimicry of how Brian had found Corey and Andy earlier that day, except this pair was wearing clothes. 'And at least they're both still alive,' she thought to herself, praying that she wouldn't have to eat her words.

  She rolled Brian off of Brian, grimacing when she saw the bruising and injuries interspersed around Brian's body. Small pools of blood were forming in the carpet from where Brian had cuts.

  A similar examination of Brian confused Christine. He's unconscious, but there isn't a scratch on him… Her puzzlement dissipated when closer inspection of the room revealed several liquor bottles, strewn across the floor. Oh no…

  She put an ear to Brian's heart, and her fears were confirmed. I can barely hear anything… Brian… if you live, I'm going to kill you… please don't do this to me… She could do little else but just continue to listen as his heartbeat slowly diminished. Just as she thought that his heart was no longer beating, the door busted open, and she started yelling to let them know where they were.

  "Please, take Brian first! I think his heart stopped, he needs to be resuscitated, NOW!" She ordered, not caring if she made a fool out of herself. The paramedics looked at each other for a moment, but people tended to listen to Christine when she was angry. To do otherwise would be an unnecessary risk to one's well being.

  --

  The first thing Brian saw was a bright light. 'Heaven?' He thought, but kicked himself in the head the second after it crossed his mind. Idiot, people like me don't go to heaven. I must still be alive. What went wrong?

  He opened his eyes, allowing them to adjust to the soft fluorescent glow. He tried to turn his head to examine his surroundings, but any movement of his head at all aggravated a splitting migraine that he just realized he had.

  "Oh, good, you're awake," a female voice chirped animatedly. Brian turned his eyes towards the voice, seeing a young nurse looking over at instruments that Brian realized were hooked up to him. "I wouldn't recommend moving your head for a while. I thought the doctors were joking when they told me that they had a kid come in alive with a BAC above .6. It must be some kind of miracle. Word is that this is the second time you've been admitted into the hospital just today, too. You're lucky you were unconscious. Doctors had to do all sorts of nasty stuff to purge that much alcohol from your system. You should be fine now. Can't say the same thing about your liver, or your kidneys, but you're alive, that's what matters, right? My name is Ashley, by the way—"

  "Please… stop talking," Brian managed to whisper. The headache he earned by doing so was substantial, but it was nothing compared to listening to her babble incessantly. There were apparently worse things than death.

  "Oh my, I always run off my mouth, I'm so sorry, you want to be left alone? I understand. This one time, and don't tell anyone, we nurses are supposed to be advocates of good health or whatever, but everyone makes mistakes, you know? So anyway, this one time, I was at a party, and I was pretty drunk. There was this jerk, he wouldn't leave me alone. I wasn't even into him, you know? I tried to get him to go away, but he wouldn't quit talking, I think he wanted me to sleep with him, oh, my, god, it was so bad, you wouldn't even believe…"

  Brian screamed silently in his head. I must be in hell. It's the only explanation. She must be Satan in disguise.

  After what could possibly have actually been hours, Brian having lost the ability to tell time after a while, she stopped talking, apparently called to somewhere else. My prayers go out to that person. No one deserves that punishment. After the nurse left him, he was finally able to reclaim sleep. He felt like his body had been turned inside out several times. If that crazy woman knew what she was talking about, they probably had to, in order to get the alcohol out of his system.

  --

  "Brian? Brian Mannus?"

  Brian's eyes fluttered open again, and to his relief, he was feeling significantly better than the last time he woke up. What time is it? He turned his head, and saw a man in a fined tailored suit, carrying nothing but an envelope in his hand.

  "Yeah, that's me. Who are you? What time is it?" Brian propped himself up into a sitting position, surprised to find that he was dressed in a generic hospital gown. He held his head softly, shaking away the remnants of a headache.

  "Doctors weren't kidding when they said that you were pretty messed up when you got here last night. They almost didn't let me come here. It's morning, almost ten by my reckoning. My name isn't important; I'll leave my card if you really care to know. I'm the lawyer Corey Towers hired just two days ago."

  "Lawyer?" Brian asked lamely, his interest immediately caught at Corey's name.

  "I don't normally do this kind of thing, hand delivery, but he paid me quite an impressive sum to ensure its prompt transfer to you upon his death. I never would have thought I'd have to actually follow through so quickly, though. I'm going to field the guess that you were his… significant other? Life partner?"

  "How… do you know? Why did he need a lawyer?"

  "He hired me to draft him a very specific will. And from experience, people don't will everything they own to one person unless they are more than just… friends, shall we say. I don't normally perform my services so quickly, but the money I was being offered was too good to pass up. He also personally gave me a sealed note to deliver with the will. And I quote, 'Tell him that he has my full permission to assault you if you even think about breaking that seal.'"

  He handed Brian the envelope, and Brian accepted it, along with the lawyer's business card, which he set aside on the table next to his hospital bed.

  "My service is done; it was a pleasure doing business with you. I'm terribly sorry for your loss," he said curtly, without even a hint of genuineness in his voice. He turned around, fixing his suit before leaving the hospital, already counting the dollar signs in his head.

  Brian ripped the envelope open, finding two pieces of paper contained within. He set the thicker will aside, more interested in the note Corey left for his eyes only. He snapped the seal, carefully unfolding the piece of paper. It was unmistakably Corey's neat h
andwriting.

  Brian,

  If you're reading this, then I guess I've already taken my own life. I don't have much to say, I won't take too much more of your time. Attached to this letter is a copy of my will. I just had it made today. I would just have just asked my family to do this for me, but I can't trust them with something this important. Show the will to them if they try to rip you off. If you don't have the will, you have my permission to sue the ass off that worthless piece of shit lawyer that I hired.

  Brian furrowed his eyebrows. Did he just try to crack a joke? He continued to read.

  Quit frowning. I know, I guess it's a bad time to be funny.

  I know that you're in pain, and I know that it's my fault. But you're not in love with me. I know you think you are, but I could see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice, see it in the way you handled yourself around… him. You have to move on. There are better things out there for you than me. I'm nothing anymore. Don't waste a second of your life holding on to nothing.

  I had plans for us before things changed. I wanted to show you the world. Hell, I wanted to see the world myself, but we don't always get what we want. Plans change. One thing can't though. I want to make sure that you're set for life. My parents can bitch and moan all they want, but I've willed to you the entirety of my trust fund and my share of the inheritance. Don't go nuts with it, and don't get complacent. Use some of it to go to college. Maybe you can use the rest to see the world for me. You can tell me about it later. Also, I've willed to you the rights to use my room in any way you want. You're always welcome in the Towers mansion. If they have anything to say about that, they can come to me. I'm sorry, I did it again, didn't I? Weird time to develop a sense of humor.

  One last thing, and this is very important. You must be wondering why I decided to kill myself. Brian, you have to understand that you've brought to me happiness that I was starting to lose hope that I would ever find. No, I did lose hope. You single handedly brought me out of a cycle of self-destructive behavior. I was an ugly, terrible person before I met you. I was afraid that that Corey would come back. I was afraid for you. Every day that went by, I started to realize that he was coming back, slowly but surely, and I knew that the only reason he would come back was because I was losing you, whether either of us realized it or not.

  I took action into my own hands. It's what I do. I hope you can forgive me, Brian. Forgive and forget. That's the best advice I can offer you now.

  Enough out of me. How can you start moving on if I can't stop talking?

  I love you,

  Corey

  Brian read and reread the note as many times as he could tolerate before folding it up and returning it to the envelope, along with the will. The last words I ever said to him were rejecting his proposal. How could I ever have done something like that to him? How could I let him be so sure that I didn't love him? How could he leave me… I don't understand… any of this…

  --

  The doctor came by a while later to check on him. With some insisting, Brian convinced the doctor that he was healthy enough to be discharged. The doctor scratched his head softly, the walking miracle traipsing off as if he wasn't just sent to the emergency room a few hours ago for having virtually unheard of levels of alcohol in his system.

  He tried to convince Brian to seek therapy for his binge drinking, explaining that his liver wouldn't always be quite as resilient, but Brian wouldn't have any of it, practically storming out of the room, his old clothes hastily put on, blood stains or not.

  Brian approached the first information desk he could find, asking if they could direct him to the room where Brian Holden was being held. The receptionist raised her eyebrow at the splotches of blood dotting Brian's shirt, but she held her tongue, giving him directions as asked.

  He walked into the room casually, inadvertently scaring Christine half to death. He raised his hands passively to stop her from attacking him. "I promise, I come in peace. Christine, could you give us a moment? We have to talk, for real this time."

  Brian nodded to Christine that it was okay, and she begrudgingly acquiesced, giving Brian a strange look as she left the room. How can he possibly even be standing after last night?

  Seeing the door close behind Christine, Brian spoke up. Just speaking was difficult for him at this point, and Brian grimaced as he saw the full extent of his handiwork splayed out before him. "Here to finish the job, then? I wouldn't blame you, everything you said was right. It's our fault."

  "No. I came here to forgive you, and ask if you would forgive me for what I did to you. I—I can't explain what happened yesterday. I wasn't me, but I was, I was thinking through everything. I know it's not an excuse, because I had control. When I saw Corey's body yesterday… I had a hallucination. My own imagination told me that I had to 'break even,' whatever that meant. I had to think about it when I got home, long and hard. You can see where those thoughts led me."

  "You weren't totally off," Brian commented dryly. "I forgive you. It's the least I can do."

  "I still don't think I understand what my imagination meant by 'breaking even.'"

  "Who knows? Who cares? You imagined it, if it doesn't have any meaning to you, then it's probably meaningless. You're going through a lot. It's understandable."

  "I guess so," Brian said, fidgeting with the envelope he held in his hand, trying to find the right words for what he wanted to say. "Would you be okay if we started our friendship over from scratch?"

  "Forgive and forget, that kind of thing?" Brian asked. "I'm okay with that. It's probably healthier for you and me, and everyone else if we could move on from this."

  "Glad to hear it. Because I have a favor to ask, from one friend to another. I need you to keep two more secrets. I know you haven't had the best luck with secrets, but I need you to promise me. I need to hear you say it."

  Brian chewed over this morsel of information, unsure if he was willing to risk repeating his past mistakes. "I'll hear you out, but—"

  "No buts, you have to promise."

  "Fine, I promise to carry whatever you tell me to my grave," he snapped, relenting to Brian's wish.

  "Thank you, Brian. I need you to not tell anyone else my side of the story… the full extent of my relationship with Corey. It's better for everyone if no one other than you, Andy, and I know exactly how much I love… loved Corey. Secondly, I need you to not tell anyone that I tried to commit suicide. That can be between you, Christine, and I. I can have her promise me later that she won't tell anyone. Especially Andy. I can't have people worried about me, hovering around me, making sure I don't fly off the handle again. I can't live like that. You can humor that small request, can't you? At least I want to live at all anymore, right?"

  Brian nodded, finding that he was okay with keeping these secrets for a friend. Brian just wanted to spare people from worrying too much about him. That's a fair request.

  "Just one more thing, Brian, then I'm going to go back… to the Towers residence to start packing and planning for his funeral. I can't live there anymore. It's not right," Brian digressed, silently pushing aside his fear of returning to his real home. "Could you help me write a eulogy for Corey? I'm not very good with words, or feelings. But I need to say this right. I need to let him know wherever he is, how wrong he was. Maybe I can move on after that."

  Brian frowned contemplatively for a second, and then smiled. "I don't know what makes you think I'm any better at writing eulogies than you are, but I'll help. Before we start though… you do realize that a Towers was murdered. Everyone in our school who even pretended to know him will be there, along with press, the rest of his family… you get what I'm saying. Are you sure you want to announce this to the world?"

  Brian bowed his head in thought, not having taken that fact into account. He looked over in the general direction of where Andy's room was, and met Brian's eyes again.

  "I'm not going to let people stop me from saying what I really feel anymore," Brian stated, resolute. "Bring them
on."