The
state cops had given up on the letter…the whole thing. Not a decent print. Nothing. Michael knew he had to give up, but he couldn’t help
thinking that it was his fault.
His job to guard the town.
His job to keep innocent friends from becoming targets and then bloody
mannequins. He saw that his fly
was sinking and did a few dry casts before putting it six inches from where it
had been. He tried to stop his
mind, but couldn’t. He pulled out
the flask and downed it in one gulp.
Recast.
Suddenly
he was back in time. Something he
hadn’t thought about in years.
There was a girl in his class named Anna. They were sixteen.
She had a hopeless and obvious crush on Michael. She had indentations in the sides of
her head and she was slow. That’s
what they called it then: slow. He was always nice to her. He knew it encouraged the crush, but
she had enough kids throwing shit at her.
She was the butt of enough jokes.
It
was a Friday afternoon. He was
passing the gym and he heard laughing.
He looked inside and saw two kids he didn’t know very well…one was a new
student, a pudgy, shifty kid. They
were standing on either side of her.
They were throwing her shirt over her head and she was jumping for it
and laughing. She was not wearing
a bra. Her breasts were large and
Michael was ashamed to be looking.
That was the first thought, but it was followed almost instantaneously
by blinding rage. One of them
reached out and savagely grabbed a bouncing tit. Anna screamed, and then he was walking. If you could call it walking. It wasn’t a run, but it was like the
earth was pushing his feet forward.
He was momentum. He covered the distance quickly and his
rage grew with every step.
The
two boys turned at the last second.
Their eyes were wide and their expressions confused. Michael’s first punch destroyed the
bigger one’s nose. His second
punch caught the wiry one in the throat and he went down making mud
noises. Michael kicked and
kicked. Things began to get
blurry. He was crying. Then her hand was on his.
“It’s
Ok, Michael.”
He
panted. Blinked. Couldn’t talk.
“Michael. We were just playing. Don’t be mad, Michael.”
He
looked at her innocent face. Pink
cheeks and childish smile. He
looked at the boys on the floor. He
realized they were hurt badly and recoiled in shock. He wondered what he should do. He knew they would never tell. He shuddered.
He looked down at them squirming in their blood.
“If
I ever…if anything like this
ever…if I fucking…you evil motherfuckers…you evil, goddamn
motherfuckers…”
He
was crying again and Anna was pulling on his arm. He shook his head fast to clear it and saw stars behind his
eyes.
He
walked her home and managed to calm down enough to speak. He told her that she shouldn’t let boys
see those parts of her. She didn’t
seem to understand, but she promised she would “be good”. Her house was small and dingy. All the windows were open. It was hot. Screen door flapping in the breeze. He saw a man in an easy chair with a
bottle beside him. Anna ran to the
door and waved. Michael heard the
man’s voice. Harsh.
Then
it was gone. He was staring at the
fly, which was just beginning to sink.
He blinked his eyes and the pool exploded. He tried to set the hook, but he was too late. He leaned the rod against a tree and
sat down heavily.
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Oh you just made me want to read your book again! :)
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