Story for Class Discussion, 10/8

Here is a new story by Melanie. Please print out a copy and bring it with you to class on Thursday.

This is the first day of my life. Yesterday doesn’t exist and tomorrow holds the world. The past is just a memory. A meaningless memory. If only if only if only. I always find myself wishing if only. If only it never happened.
It was summer. The city is always ridiculously hot in the summer. The sun is inescapable even in the shadows of the buildings. The heat from the pavement is visible on days like today. It was a good day for a run. Maybe I’m just into self-torture. Maybe I just enjoyed running in ninety-something degree weather through crowds of tourists. I liked running past the buildings which hold corporate America on a high pedestal. Past the old overpriced theaters and fancy expensive boutiques that I could never afford. My feet always took me to the familiar neighborhood in the poor section of the city. The neighborhood where everything happened. I could smell the familiar smell of the local steak house mixed with the aroma of piss and sweat. It was mid-July and summer was at its peak. The sun beat down on my sweaty forehead while I wandered into the apartment building I had grown to know so well. Why was I here? Why couldn’t I just let go?
I felt it happening. I felt myself slipping away. I felt paralyzed even though my body was moving. I was no longer in control. All I could do was watch nervously through my eyes, hoping that this wouldn’t get me into too much trouble. It always feels like a movie when this happen. It feels like when the camera is showing what a person in the movie sees, from their point of view. My body led me towards the stairs. It walked up several flights when a person that I recognized opened the door on one of the floors.
“Oh shit, Daniel fuckin’ Jameson! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Mary yelled. Apparently, whoever was controlling my body didn’t care for Mary. I watched as my body walked right past her without acknowledging her at all.
“Are you alright? You look a bit…dazed,” Mary said. I just kept walking.
“Okay then, don’t say hi,” Mary replied sounding irritated as she walked off. My feet kept pulling me forward. A voice that sounded nothing like mine slipped from my mouth without warning.
“Bad bad bad,” the voice said. It sounded like that of a child. It sounded like a young boy who was in trouble. It was desperate. My vision slowly went black as the memories began pouring into my mind. I could no longer see what my body was doing. The last source of light slowly dimmed like a dying flashlight. I struggled to hold onto that last glimpse of light but it faded until it was gone and I couldn’t get it back. A tall brunette man with pale skin appeared in front of me. He was beautiful. His pale skin shined and his icy blue eyes pierced mine. I couldn’t look away even though I knew his looks were just a fucked up distraction for who he really was. He was much taller than me and he began to speak with a deep, harsh voice.
“You know you’re a pretty boy,” he told me. I looked at him as he walked closer to me. My stomach churned. He was my father’s age. I was seven. I stared into those gorgeous frightening eyes.
“No,” I whispered in the voice of a child. He towered above me as he got closer and closer. I closed my eyes as his hand reached down and touched my face. This was something I preferred not to see or remember though I was quite accustomed to the process. I let it happen without any sort of struggle. There was no point in struggling. That was what he wanted. I gave up on struggling long ago. I felt weight slowly press on my small body.
I woke up in a small apartment bedroom with pictures of famous celebrities on the wall. This was a room I knew well. My head throbbed so hard I thought it would explode. The pain was overwhelming. I lifted myself up off the floral bedding and sat on the edge of the bed. I looked at my shoes and tried to forget the memory I had forgotten for so long. It dominated my thoughts. Why could I forget it for so long but now it was all I could think about? I took a deep breath and pulled myself off the bed. I glanced around the room. There weren’t many changes since I was here last. There were more pictures of me on the wall. I looked at my smiling face and my icy blue eyes, feeling strange. I hardly recognized that boy anymore. I looked away quickly and slowly walked towards the bedroom door.
“How have you been?” Mary asked as I walked out of her bedroom and sat next to her on her beat up brown leather couch. I shrugged.
“I’ve been better,” I said. I sighed, still feeling my pulsating headache. She began telling me about all the fun she’s had since we last saw each other about a month ago. She had been on a trip around Europe. She told me about Paris and all the bitchy Parisian women who refused her service at this one restaurant. She old me about the prostitutes in Amsterdam, the pints in Germany, the bull fights in Spain. I tried to listen but my headache was overwhelming. I just sat there looking around her small apartment as she rambled on. There were pictures of me and her and our other friends on the walls.
I suddenly felt happy for the first time in weeks. I smiled at Mary. I had missed her. She loved me even though I was crazy.
Mary and I talked on the couch for a while. My mind grew tired and my thoughts began to wander. I knew something bad was about to happen. I felt relaxed yet anxious, happy yet sad, and nervous yet brave at the same time. Everything was moving so fast and my mind couldn’t even process anything. I felt as though I had just downed an entire bottle of Barcardi.
A knock on the door brought me back to reality. Mary opened the door and I immediately recognized who it was. Mary’s boyfriend. She introduced us, but we didn’t need any introduction. I knew he was an insensitive, masochistic, pretentious jerk. I couldn’t even look at him without feeling a deep hatred. I wanted to go away. He knew all about my past and I knew he would tell Mary. I hated people knowing the truth about me. When they know everything they start to judge. My face felt hot and my insides felt like they were going to explode. I felt so ridiculously uncomfortable I wanted to scream and cry. I was enraged and I knew it. My focus started to blur and dim. I knew it was happening again. I fought internally to stop it from happening but it was too late. My body was paralyzed again. Whoever was controlling my body looked down at my clenched fist. I no longer felt the anger but I knew whoever was controlling me did. They looked up at Mary and her boyfriend. Jealousy enraged the person inside me. My heart raced and my body shook. My eyes shifted in every direction and things started moving. Mary’s boyfriend was sitting close to her on the couch near me. It made me nervous. I didn’t want Mary next to someone who was such a fucking criminal. I could now feel what the person inside me was feeling. The overwhelming sensation of hate and anger took over my body as it let out an angry scream.
“Chill out,” Mary’s boyfriend said to whoever was controlling my body. I sat watching, unable to move. My body was turning redder and redder as my blood grew hot with rage. They didn’t seem to notice. I hated it. I hated it. I hated it. The light started to dim and I knew I was about to have a memory as whoever was in control of my body did as they pleased with me and anyone else that was around me. I couldn’t let that happen. I pushed harder than I ever had before to keep that light on. I needed to focus on what was current reality. I felt a feeling that I knew too well; a feeling of desperation to get vengeance on this son of a bitch who was sitting far too close to me. His father was the beautiful man that haunted my mind. His father was responsible for the way I was.
I sat there in silence as they laughed and joked. I wanted to regain control. I wanted to scream and cry and tell him what I really thought about him and his gorgeous father who made my life unbearable. What he did to me can not be forgotten, erased, or taken back. I wanted to be in control again. I pushed hard and struggled to regain control. The feeling in my body was slowly returning. It felt as though I had been outside in the dead of winter and grew numb from the cold and now I was thawing out. The feeling trickled over my body. I was able to blink. I was able to look around. My body was in my control again. I slowly stood up and walked into the kitchen. I went to the refrigerator for a drink. I grabbed a can of soda and opened it.
Mary and her boyfriend walked into the room. I smiled and put my soda on the counter.
“Hello, fuckbag,” I said to Mary’s boyfriend. He stared at me in disbelief. I smiled at him. I turned my back on him and Mary and opened one of the drawers. I knew what was in each of these drawers and I knew what I was going to get. He knew too. He knew these kinds of games well. After all, he was his father.
“Dan, what are you doing?” Mary’s boyfriend asked me calmly as he walked towards me. I turned around and smiled. My arms were at my side. He saw what I had in my right hand.
“Nothing, pretty boy,” I said to him. He looked just like his father. He sounded just like his father.
“Dan, I know what happened and it’s not my fault. It’s not your fault either. We should just talk,” he said calmly. I didn’t care. I was bent on revenge. It was the only way. It was the only way I would be free.
“Stop, Danny,” Mary choked out desperately as I stepped towards them. He walked towards me as well, asking me to stop, to put it down. Telling me he wasn’t his father and he wanted to be my friend. I didn’t care. He had ruined my life, and now I would ruin his. I turned and faced them. I looked into his eyes and I could see his father in them. They had the same icy shade of blue with heavy lids. I was scared and nervous and angry. I needed to do this.
Mary screamed at me to put the knife down. She told me not to do it. She begged; but I couldn’t let this opportunity to fix my life get away. He backed up, looking into my eyes. He asked if I wanted to talk to him. I shook my head as I continued to walk towards him. I laughed. He knew what was coming. This would be my chance to make my life right again. I would free myself from my past. I would kill this son of a pedophile scumbag who would never understand what I went through.
I stepped toward him slowly. There was very little room for him to escape. I knew he was about to make a run for it, but I was too clever for him. He dashed to the left, trying to get around me. I reached forward and grabbed his shoulder. He turned around and I put the knife into his stomach. He fell on his knees. I bent down and removed the knife. I smiled and stabbed him again and again and again as life left his face. The noises he made sounded familiar. I had heard them before. Life left his face.
Mary cried and screamed as I stood over her dead boyfriend. She picked up her cell phone and called 911. She cried and screamed hysterically into the phone telling them someone was just killed in her apartment. There was nothing that could save him now.
The blood formed a pool around his body. I had saved Mary from her crazy fuckbag of a boyfriend. I finally got my revenge. A knock on the door interrupted my train of thought. Two police officers let themselves in. Four EMTs followed them with a stretcher. One of the police officers approached Mary to comfort her. She was too hysterical to tell them what had happened just yet. The officer made Mary sit on the couch. Several forensic photographers entered the room. I stood there staring as the men began taking pictures of the scene for later investigation. I guess it’s important to have evidence. They didn’t seem to notice me. One of the EMTs covered Mary’s boyfriend with a body bag. They lifted him onto a stretcher and carried him out of the apartment. Everything was happening so fast. Mary continued to cry. The police officer tried to console her. The other police officer wanted to help but he needed to question her about what had happened.
“What was your relationship to the victim?” he asked.
“He was my boyfriend,” Mary replied. I stared at her. She looked down, still crying really hard. She wiped away the tears with the back of her hand.
“What was his name?” the police officer asked. She paused and looked in my direction, looking through me her eyes soaked with tears. She sniffed and took a deep breath.
“Daniel,” she replied. “Daniel Jameson.”