I don't deserve to look
like this,
I tell the boy in the mirror.
He smiles back with that coiled evil grin.
I was evil.
I
am
evil.
I want that face gone more
than any sort of revenge. My only desire right now was to rid
myself of that
potential
. I had no potential
here.
“Change. Come on. Change! I said change!” I
scream at my reflection, trying to will the demon that lies within.
My smirking face begins to laugh, but remains handsome as
ever.
“Change! Change goddamn you!” my screams
grow more intense, and I actually begin to sob. I can feel the hot
wet streams fall down my cheeks, the mirror revealing nothing.
There is no change, no gruesome transformation, only smiling happy
JJ. I had a sick feeling deep in my gut that despite all my
wanting, I would never see the monster again. Bittersweet irony of
Hell.
“You are the monster,” I tell my grinning
self, still hoping the inner demon will rip that damn smile off my
face.
I reach down, grabbing for my muddy boot,
and chuck it hard once more at the dirty silver looking glass. I
wait for it to reform, boot returned, before I let more invisible
tears fall down my face.
33
You might find this surprising, but the Old
Man wasn't always a hard ass. When I was younger, he was actually a
pretty amazing guy. Everyone respected him, and not just the “I'll
do what you say, please don't hurt me,” kind of respect. They truly
liked him. I had a lot of good memories with him. None more
cherished than those simple trips to nowhere in my dad's beat up
truck. Happiest memories of my life were in that musty old cab.
It's not fair that the only truck memory I ended up with wasn't the
best, but no one said Hell was fair, did they.
*
The rusty door made a gut
wrenching, banshee like scream of metal rubbing in undefined
locations as it creaked open. I cringed every time it did, even
now, but I still loved this old truck. I was the one who begged the
Old Man not to scrap it out when Ma was on a tirade about cleansing
ourselves of useless possessions. She agreed to donate her wedding
dress to the church if he got rid of his broke down pickup. In the
end, Ma still kept her dress, and the Old Man still kept the truck.
Some of the best moments of my life happened in the cramped cab of
that pickup. He and I would find an old dirt road and waste an
entire tank of gas just cruising around and talking about nothing
to everything. Girls, sports, candy bars, and life.
Things were so much different these days,
but a large part of me would always love this damn truck. I was
secretly hoping I'd get to have it after I graduated. If I
graduate, I guess. The way things were going these days, I wasn't
even sure I'd make it through senior year.
I knew things had to change. I was at a
crossroads that I hadn't realized I had stumbled upon until now.
Crazy serendipity. Last night was the first step. As I climbed into
the dusty truck, I knew this was the next one. The Old Man slid
into the driver's seat, silent. Neither of us spoke a word as the
engine came to life. The rumble of old parts seemed to thrum in
rhythm to my heart. I knew it did for him too.
He pulled out onto the road, still quiet as
a church mouse. Several minutes sputtered by before we found our
favorite gravel road. We were mere seconds down that dusty trail
when the Old Man took in a rather large breath, and crushed all
bits of happiness that I had accumulated from the last few
days.
“That girl going to tell on you?” he said
matter of factly.
How did he find out about
Genna?
I wondered fearfully. My heart sank
at the thought that she actually did tell someone. I debated on
whether or not to play dumb, but knew trying the ignorance card was
not an option with him.
“She..uh..well..she's never said anything
yet. Not that I know of,” I answered slowly and quietly,
disbelieving that I was actually confessing to raping Genna so long
ago. I kept wondering how he had even found out. It wasn't
something I cared to remember myself, and I hadn't known Genna to
tell anyone that might say something to Dad.
He simply nodded, eyes on the deserted
road.
“How did you find out about Genna?” I asked
nervously after a few more quiet seconds, hoping she hadn't really
told after all, and he was just making me out a liar.
The Old Man hit the brakes sharply, sending
me slamming against the dash with an undignified thud. His face red
with a hot temper I was sure didn't come from the booze this early
in the morning.
“Who's Genna?” he asked angrily, his hands
gripping the cracked steering wheel with fierce frustration.
“That's...that's the girl, Dad,” I
answered, slightly confused. Maybe he just didn't know her name, or
maybe hearing it made it worse.
“Pretty sure Seth's girl's name isn't
Genna, Boy,” rage boiling in his voice, seething through the thick
tension rising in the truck. I suddenly realized this might not
have been the best idea after all.
“What?” I asked, not pretending to be
stupid, just incredibly confused and hoping this was all an
illusion.
“Joanna. That's her name, right? She's who
ran out of the garage in a real messed up state last night.
Right?!” he screamed.
I felt the blood drain from my face as his
words echoed in my mind. I hoped I had heard wrong.
Messed up state? What the
fuck did that mean?!
The Old Man was huffing now, anger taking
over rationality. He turned, grabbing me by the back of the neck,
shoving my face into the hard cold plastic in my front of me. My
face molded into the mint green dash, my father's words drowning in
my head as I tried to push them away. Tears broke free and fell
down my face. The Old Man let go, sitting back in his seat,
collecting his own sad thoughts.
“You could have really hurt that girl.
Hell, who knows, you probably did! Now, don't worry. Even if she
tells, Seth and I are close. I can talk to him. This won't hurt you
in any way, you hear me? You're job now is to get that damn
scholarship back!”
I nodded, knowing that was a damn lie. I
was already hurt and that scholarship was long gone. I touched the
scratches on my neck with raging disgust. Whatever fucked up
fantasy I had painted in my head of last night became a jagged
knife right into my heart.
“Put yourself together for fuck's sake,”
the Old Man growled as the truck roared forward, “Genna, huh?”
I lowered my head in shame. Shame that
there had ever been a “Genna” in the first place, and shame that
there had been another.
No more drinking,
I declared. I had to put this right. I laughed a
little on the inside, suddenly realizing why Harvey punched me in
the face on my own turf this morning.
He should have done
more,
I admitted. The gun in the Old Man's
“office” was looking more and more appealing with every sad
thought.
“I'm sorry, Dad,” I whispered into the cold
dashboard. I could feel his eyes on me, but I was too scared to
face him this time. It wasn't like when we fought with our hands,
or the nasty name calling we did when we were drunk. I legitimately
could not look him in the eye because I had shamed him.
Despite my shame, I couldn't help but be a
little pissed.
She fucking
told.
34
If all good stories end where they start,
then mine is going to be a fucking classic.
*
My watery eyes glared at
Jo as she sauntered around Carter. Not only did that bitch tell on
me, she was going to dance on my grave to boot. Part of me actually
wanted to admire the fact that she had the balls to pull off
getting my own brother to shoot me, and the other part was still
grieving that she rejected my very presence on earth. I tried not
to be angry because I knew she was just enacting much deserved
revenge, but I was still furious.
I stared at her intently, her gaze never
crossing my own. Through the tears and nervous worry, I still
wanted to scream at her to see me.
Just look at me! For
once, see that I'm a man, not a monster!
I hesitated at the last
thought. I've lived my entire life being praised and idolized
simply by being an asshole, constantly convincing myself that I was
in fact the good guy all along. My feet were slipping in the blood
of my best friend and a complete stranger, my man in waiting lay
crumpled on the floor in front of my own flesh and blood, and the
woman I loved was about to have me murdered. I chuckled slightly to
myself thinking of the phrase, “good guys finish last”. I was dead
last this time. Did that make me the good guy after
all?
Joanna whispered quietly to Carter before
he turned on me. I crouched lower under the table, suddenly feeling
incredibly mortal and afraid. My heart began its unhappy out of
sync dance. Thump thump. Thump thump. Sweat mixed with blood
spatters of lost friends caked my pores, causing my skin to
suffocate. I was quite literally drowning in blood and fear.
Thump thump. Thump thump. Faster and faster
around the crazy merry go round of dizzying panic. I pushed back
that grand old urge to vomit yet again. As my heart and mind picked
up speed in opposite directions, I realized I wasn't ready to
die.
I can't let this happen. I
can't do it. It's...just too much! This isn't real. This isn't
real. This isn't real.
I repeated my own
mantra of insanity, trying to silence my overwhelming pain. Thump
thump. Thump thump.
Gun metal shimmering, Harvey grew closer,
his finger nestled comfortably on the tiny trigger. Reality was a
heavy crushing burden. Harvey's feet were inches from my face as I
did the only thing I could think of that might save my ass.
“Please, Carter! Please, I...I'm sorry,
Man!” I groveled and begged, forgoing any and all self respect I
had left. I plead on my hands and knees at his feet, eyes filled
with tears. I didn't care who saw me bowing down like a beaten dog.
I wanted to live damn it.
Begging for mercy wasn't something I was
accustomed to doing, but I figured if I had any shot out of this,
it would be appealing to his softer side. We were brothers after
all, right?
Harvey stared at me hard before responding,
“Oh, so, you're sorry? Did you hear that, Jo? He's sorry! I guess
we can all forgive and go home now, right?!” he screamed back in my
face. I sank, eyes bulging from an overflow of tears and pang of
failure.
Thump thump thump. My heart was
overbearingly erratic. My hands reached out like an apologetic
child, grabbing at Harvey's shoes, eyes pleading mercifully.
I could see the cold
steely blue of his eyes soften as I sobbed on his cheap boots,
soaking them with my shame.
Please,
Brother!
I begged silently.
Harvey sighed slightly, moving his shoe out
from under my clinging grasp. Before I could open my mouth to
continue my defense, the hard rubbery sole came flying forward,
slamming into my still tender jaw. My head snapped back with
unnatural force, making my neck pop and crack. The crunching of
enamel echoed loudly in my head as I felt two of my teeth break
under the pressure of hatred and vengeance. Harvey towered above me
as I rolled across the floor, coughing and choking on the thick red
blood now gushing from my mouth.
I tried to sit up, but couldn't muster the
energy through the pain, so I rolled instead.
“Harv...Harvey, please,”
I begged again through a mouthful of blood. There had to be some
kind of sympathy left in him. He wasn't the vicious type. Harvey
was not a bad guy. He couldn't go through with this.
“Shut the fuck up, JJ. You
deserve this, and you know it. No more excuses for you,
Brother,”
a raging voice
interrupted the last bit of rational thinking I had
left.
Holy shit, he's really
going to kill me.
Thump thump. Thump
thump.
I shook my head, pushing that thought away.
I had to keep trying. He had to listen to reason. This was
madness!
Joanna cried silently in the background as
the dark black hole of the gun barrel entered my vision. Harvey's
face was like stone, but the quickening beat of his heart sounded
in my ear, almost comforting me.
I watched Harvey's finger close in on the
trigger. My heart stopped.
“No...no..you..”
Bang!
35
One bullet, straight through my ignorant
brain. Lights out. Show's over. There was no beaming light at the
end of the tunnel. No wispy angels to lead me to the afterlife. No
loved ones to greet me at the pearly gates. The world I once knew
was empty, completely void of any and all sense a human grows
accustomed to using to experience the world. There was just
nothing. Pure darkness, until I opened my eyes and glimpsed the
figure in the shiny silver mirror, the glass filmy, but still quite
visible. I watched my reflection for an otherworldly amount of time
when I woke up from the day dream I used to call life. Still good
looking. Still strong. Still so sure on the outside, but the
hollowness grew deep within like a seedling in a fresh spring rain.
It grew until the monster ripped through my perfect flesh,
torturing what remained of my soul.