Author’s Note: Here is another excerpt from my “Shit I wrote in High school” catalogue.
I am alone. They left me here. I don’t think they are coming back for a while. It would be nice if they never come back, but I doubt I am that lucky. Fuck, I want a coffee. I bet they are going to verify what I told them. I didn’t lie. It’s all true.
They picked me up at my apartment about a half hour ago. I did not fight them, but they insisted that I have hand cuffs on anyways. I surrendered, but asked if they would turn off the lights and the radio in my apartment before we left. There was no point in leaving them on since I knew I wasn’t coming back for a long time, if ever. They willingly obliged.
I was quite surprised that the police arrived forty-five minutes after I dialed 911. I would have thought that since I had confessed to a murder, the police would be storming down my door as I hung up the receiver. But I guess they have more important things to worry about than murder. They never showed up when I called three months ago. No one died that day though. Well, not really.
Three hours ago, I had been cleaning my apartment. I had only moved there a week earlier and it was a dump. I hadn’t even unpacked my things yet. I had turned on the radio for some company when his song came on. His favourite song. I turned the volume up and cranked the bass to its maximum. The bass beats were so loud that it seemed as if they were competing with the beating of my own heart.
I though about how much easier my life would be if he wasn’t around. I thought about how my life could start again now that I had left him. Even though he doesn’t share the bed with me anymore, I can still feel his presence. I had left him, but I wasn’t over him. He doesn’t have to be in the same room as me in order for to feel as though he is still raping me. That is something that I will have to live with. He is in my head and speaks to me like a voice from my subconscious. I thought about how much easier my life would be if he died. I thought about it for a long time. And then I started to plan… a plan so loosely woven, it almost appeared chaotic.
I knew he wouldn’t be home until 3:47pm, so I left for his place at 3, giving me enough time to prepare for when he entered the back door. He was bigger and stronger than me, but if I planned it just right, I could conquer him. I let myself into his apartment, my old home, using the key he kept hidden inside of a mitten in the mail box.
3:47pm came at last. When his car pulled into the driveway, I got into the position in the hallway off of the kitchen and prepared for what I had practiced a few minutes before. He walked through the back door and followed his usual drop his bag in the middle of the floor, hang up his keys, reach for a drink habit. I stepped out the darkness of the hallway and into the kitchen.
“Can I have a hug?” I asked. His expression turned from mild shock, to a smirk of sheer enjoyment.
“Yes, but know that it will be awhile before you are forgiven for pulling this stunt.”
“Of course,” I said and stepped into his outstretched arms. He held me tight and stroked my hair. He then grabbed a handful of it and pulled on it so I had no choice but to look at his face.
“I won’t punish you this time, but next time I will.”
I smiled coyly up at him. “There won’t be a next time.” I squeezed him a little tighter while I pulled out the knife I had hidden in my sleeve. I pushed the knife into his back, and pulled down it as hard as I could. It must have hit a bone because it didn’t move very far. When he realized what I had done, he held me out from him and slapped me across the face, but as he did so, the knife in his back jabbed him painfully.
I stepped forward and raked my nails across his face, pay back for all the damage he had done to my face over the years. Blood streamed from eight miniature rivers on his face. He backed up, wincing in pain, but forgot that his bag was on the floor behind him and tripped over it. He fell backwards, his feet coming straight out in front of him, and he landed flat on his back. He didn’t move for a long time. A blood spot formed on the front of his dress shirt and on closer inspection, it was because the knife had gone straight through him. The tip of the knife could be seen.
I left his apartment and headed towards my own. I called the police as soon as I arrived. Once I hung up, I went to the living room window to watch for their arrival. I crouched in front of it, knees in my armpits, avoiding sitting on furniture for fear of getting blood on it.
I crouched like that for 45 minutes, waiting, and passed the time by picking pieces of his face out from under my finger nails.