by Beck, J. L.
Would she want that? Would Jillian want me to let go of the pain? To move on? To forget what happened? She was such a kind person, always smiling, always helping someone. She was my best friend, and because of the domino effect of incidents, she isn’t here today. Knowing Jillian, she would expect better of me, expect me to be happy and smiling, to carry on remembering her, and loving her, but she has no idea how much her memory hurts me. How much it hurts, because I am the reason she isn’t here. Me. It’s all my fault.
“Excuse me,” someone mumbles as they pass by me, and it’s then that I realize I’m still standing in the coffee shop. I need to get out of here. With my coffee in hand, I walk back out onto the now quiet street. Everyone should be in or near their classes now.
Everyone but me. I choose to skip creative writing today, even though it’s one of my favorite classes. It’s too soon to see Jackson’s gorgeous but frightening face after what happened. Sipping the icy coffee through the straw, I’m met with a surge of joy. I don’t once look over my shoulder, knowing that Jackson is in class right now, waiting for me to show my face and not following behind me.
When I reach my apartment, I walk in and toss my stuff onto the small sofa in the living room. The place starts to look more and more like a home every day. I both loathe and enjoy it. Locking the door, I slip off my sneakers and walk over to the couch, settling against the cushions of the sofa.
I have to call my mother back because if I don’t, she’ll call my old therapist, probably the dean of the university, before sending out a swat team or worse, she’ll show up here. Entering the unlock code on my phone, I navigate to my call list and sigh as I hit the green call key.
The phone rings once, almost as if she’s sitting right on top of it, watching for my call to flash across the screen.
“Hi, sweetie! I’m sorry if I interrupted you. I just wanted to check in and see how things are going. It’s been a while since we talked.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s been three days, Mom, and I’m doing good. Going to classes and enjoying living the college life.” The lie comes easily since I’m used to telling people that I’m fine when I’m not. I think about the scabs on my legs I’ve been picking on and the new cuts right below. My mom can never know about any of those.
“I hope you aren’t staying inside your apartment all day and night. Remember, your therapist said it was good for you to get out and socialize, meet new friends.”
“Of course not. I’m really making an effort, Mom. I promise.”
There’s a rattling noise, and I swear when she speaks again, her voice is thicker, filled with emotion. “I can’t tell you how happy that makes me. I was so worried about sending you off to college, but your father and therapist told me you would be fine. You’ve made so much progress. I wish I was there to see it.”
I haven’t, and I really don’t want her here. I don’t want her to find out how big of a lie this all is. How close to the edge I am. She’ll make me come home, make me go back to the therapist every other day, and that’s the last thing I want right now. Sometimes the best thing you can do is leave someone alone and let them navigate the dark waters alone. I don’t want or need anyone else’s help, least of all, my overprotective mother’s.
“I know, but I’ll be home to visit for the holidays, and then you can see. I promise everything is okay. I love and miss you.”
“I miss you too. Remember, you can call us anytime. If you need anything or to just talk. I know your father isn’t that easy to talk to, but he does love you and is proud of the strides you’ve made.” I think that’s a lie my mother tells herself.
As if us moving states away after the accident didn’t hurt my father. He had to quit his job of twenty years and find work elsewhere. That night didn’t just change my life, it changed everyone’s lives. Everyone I cared about was affected by my actions. My father will never admit it, but he’s ashamed to call me his daughter, and I don’t really blame him. I’m ashamed that my heart is still beating most days.
“Yes, I know, Mom. Look, I’ve got to go. Study group and all, but I can call you in a couple of days. Okay?”
“All right. Please, be safe and take care of yourself, honey. I love you so much,” she says into the phone. I don’t say anything, and instead, hang up. The accident made my mother love me more, while it made my father resent me. All of that is okay, though, because the way they feel about me doesn’t matter. I know I’m a killer. I know I did this to myself.
Taking another sip of coffee, I’m hit with a jolt of joyful pleasure as it reaches my belly. I shouldn’t be able to be happy, even if it’s from something as simple as drink or food. Feeling sick to my stomach, I walk into the kitchen and pour the beverage out, watching as it swirls down the drain.
Throwing the cup away, I walk back out into the living room. I’m feeling antsy, but I know if I start doing something, I’ll feel better. My apartment is already spotless, so I pull my books out and start on some homework.
For about two hours, I work on my paper for economics class. I nibble on my bottom lip as I scribble down sentence after sentence.
The sound of heavy knocking on my door has me damn near falling off the couch. I know without even looking through the peephole who it is. I should let him assume I’m not here, but I guess I’m a glutton for punishment because I unlock the door and pull it open a little bit.
Jackson’s stupidly handsome face greets me, but he isn’t smiling. No, the look he’s giving me promises pain and fear.
“You missed creative writing. I told the professor I would stop by with the assignment.”
Wow. I’m a little shocked. It’s unlike the Jackson that I’ve come to know now, but I give him the benefit of the doubt and open the door a little wider, extending my arm out for him to hand me the paper. My naiveté is almost laughable.
Catching me off guard, he shoves the door open, forcing me to take a step back as his hulking frame fills the doorway. The stoic look on his face gives way to a malicious grin, and I know something bad is going to happen. Fear snakes up my spine and tightens around my throat.
“You… you didn’t come here to give me homework, did you?” I bite my bottom lip to stop it from quivering. Every time I’m alone with Jackson, I am reminded of how different he is.
How little he cares. It’s shocking because the boy I remember would’ve killed anyone who looked at Jillian or me the wrong way. But I guess that boy died when she did.
“How did you know?” He grins, stepping all the way into the apartment, closing the door behind him. We’re completely alone now. Yes, if I screamed loud enough, my neighbors would hear, but I’m not sure they would do anything.
“I don’t want you here. Leave. You can’t keep barging into my apartment. I’ll go to the police.” The threat doesn’t meet its mark and only seems to piss him off.
In a second, Jackson has me cornered, his huge body towering over me, making me feel small and insignificant.
He leans into my trembling form and whispers into the shell of my ear, “Call the police. They won’t help you. No one will. No one can save you.”
“Please, just leave.” I lift my hands out of instinct, mainly to push him away, but find the moment my hands touch his chest, the noise around me becomes a low hum. As if my touch burns him, he takes a step back, and my hands fall away, coming to rest at my sides.
“No can do. I’ve come to collect my payment. It’s time to use that mouth of yours. My cock is only so patient.” I swallow the scream of terror, trying to claw its way out of my throat.
“Jackson, please… please, don’t do this…” The fear is so real. The memory of that night is all I can see inside my head. The way they held me down and used my mouth over and over again. I can still feel their hands on my skin, feel the saliva sliding down my chin.
“Such a fucking slut. You think Jackson can protect you?” Fingers dig into my head, ripping the hair from my scalp, still, no matter how bad the pain, I don’t open my ey
es. I refuse.
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, bug. All you’re doing is sucking my cock. You owe me some fun, don’t you think?” Jackson’s voice pierces through the hazy fog around my mind, but every muscle in my body has locked up. Words refuse to come out of my mouth, and when he reaches for me, his hand grazing my shoulder, I wince and tuck myself against the wall.
“You want it rough, is that it? Do you want me to…” His words trail off, and his body comes to a standstill.
When I look up from the floor, I see his eyes glued to a spot on my bookshelf. It only takes me a second to realize what he is staring at. In a small pink frame is one of my favorite pictures of Jillian and me. It was taken on my thirteenth birthday. We were blowing out candles of my giant pink cake together. We did it together because she was making me laugh so hard, I couldn’t do it on my own.
“You don’t get to have a picture of her,” he says, his voice is low and gravely, laced with so much hatred it’s dripping from each word. “You don’t get to look at her! You don’t even get to think of her!”
Boots hit the ground heavily with each step as he walks over to the shelf. He grabs the picture and holds it in his hand. With his free one, he swipes the entire contents of the shelf off. Books, pictures, and knickknacks fly through the air before they can hit the floor, Jackson has already wiped out the shelf below.
He doesn’t stop until the whole thing is cleared, and all my stuff is scattered out on the floor. Then he walks to the cabinet and continues his path of destruction there.
I just stand there with my back pressed against the wall. Invisible restraints holding me down. I feel like my feet are cemented to the floor, my body unable to move, even my lungs barely work. I don’t think I’ve taken a full breath in the last ten minutes.
He continues destroying my apartment for what seems like forever. When he is finally done, he is out of breath and sweat covers his face. His eyes look dark, manic, and there’s this profound hurt, so much hurt in those green orbs. I want to go to him. Wrap my arms around him and tell him how sorry I am, but I can’t, nor would he allow it.
With a clenched fist, he takes a step toward me, but then as if rethinking what he wants to do, pauses. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to strangle me again. There is so much pain rolling off of him. I doubt he would be able to stop this time.
“Don’t you dare ever put up a picture of her again. You don’t deserve to see her smiling face. You deserve death. It should’ve been you. It should’ve been you!” he screams, the sound splinters through me. For a long moment, he stands there staring at me like a bull ready to charge, and then out of nowhere, he turns around and leaves.
The door slams shut, and I jerk from the sound. Closing my eyes, I slide down the wall, my legs unable to support me any longer. My whole body shakes with each ragged sob that rips from my chest, and all I can do is wrap my arms around my legs and think of how right he is.
How it should’ve been me and not her.
72
Jackson
Another day of classes, and another night of misery. I thought the nightmares of not being able to save my sister had stopped, but it seems since that night at Kennedy’s house, they’ve gotten worse. I do my best to avoid all thoughts of Kennedy, but it’s hard when I’m doing everything in my damn power to make her life fucking hell.
I had every intention of making her give me a blow job when I went to her house, but that blew up in my face like a giant bomb of fucked up. When I saw that picture of Jillian and Kennedy, I was sucked back in time. The pain flooded into my chest, every ounce of it poured like rain from the sky, making it hard for me to breathe, and all I could do was react.
“Dude, what the fuck are you thinking about? Been getting pussy that’s worthy of daydreaming about or something?” Talon pokes fun beside me as he shoves chips into his mouth.
I look down at the tray of food I got for myself. None of it looks appetizing right now.
“I’m not daydreaming, asshole. I just don’t have anything to say.”
“Sure, if you say so.”
A group of girls walk into the cafeteria, their voices carrying across the room, and I cringe at the sound. It’s like nails on a chalkboard. Girls are good for fucking, but that’s it. At least the ones I end up meeting. They aren’t the type I would ever bring home to my parents. If my mom knew half the shit I did, she would have a stroke.
“Crystal is looking at you like she wants to take a spin on your dick.” Talon elbows me in the side just as I lift my eyes, confirming exactly what he said. The girl looks like she wants to suck me off, right here, under the table.
I snort, “They all want to fuck me, what are you talking about?” Just then, Crystal and her group of friends start walking over to our table. Inside, I want to stab myself in the eye with a fork to avoid talking to her, but on the outside, I plaster on the smile that makes panties disappear and prepare myself to make her swoon. Maybe I can get her on her back to help take some of the ease out of my balls. All the taunting and bullying of Kennedy leaves little time for getting laid.
“Jackson, Talon,” she greets us, batting her eyelashes. It looks like something might be in her eye, but I don’t say anything. That’s not going to get her to sit on my dick. Girls like assholes but only if they’re half assholes, not full ones.
“Crystal, how are you?” Her face lights up with joy. I’d met her a couple times at house parties but only knew her by association, so I’m guessing she didn’t expect me to know her name.
“Uh… I’m good. My girls and I were wondering if you were going to be at the party the football team is putting on?”
Talon and I exchange a look and shrug. “I guess it depends if you and your girls are going to be there.”
Crystal licks her lips, and I bet she’s picturing herself on my dick right now. Her friends are looking at me like they want to eat me too. Maybe I’ll do a two for one special.
“Uh, duh, we’ll be there.” Crystal smiles, but it does nothing for me.
“Then we’ll be there too, baby,” Talon purrs.
The girls nearly clap their hands together like a group of kids excited for dessert.
“Okay, well, guess we will see you then.” Crystal drags her teeth over her bottom lip, and fuck, she’s trying to get me to chase her.
All the joy in the room deflates when I spot a blonde head of hair, that’s connected to a slim body, walking into the room. It’s not illegal for her to be in the university cafeteria, but it’s not common. I’ve never seen her eat on campus.
Crystal and her friends are still standing in front of us, but now that Kennedy is here, those girls seem so mundane and plain. They are nothing in comparison to Kennedy, who is still the prettiest girl here, even without makeup and a scar on her face. I ban that thought from my mind as fast as it popped in.
Wanting to kick myself for even thinking about her like that, I watch her hips sway, her tight little ass looks so plump in those yoga pants.
Like a radar on me, she turns in my direction. Our eyes lock in a battle of wills, and as if she’s seen a ghost, she drops the apple in her hand, spins around, and walks out of the cafeteria.
I can’t help it. I smile. Mainly because I didn’t have to do a damn thing to make her feel uncomfortable. Simply being here is enough to scare her away.
When she disappears from view, Crystal and her posse have taken a table about fifteen feet away from us. I can feel her eyes on me, watching me, but I don’t look at her. Instead, I stare at the spot Kennedy was just standing at, almost willing her to reappear there.
“Who is that girl?” Talon asks, forcing me to look away from that spot and back to him. I contemplate telling him that she’s no one, but it doesn’t hurt anyone other than Kennedy if I tell him what really happened. The knowledge is out there, free for anyone that searches for it.
“Her name is Kennedy. She killed my sister.”
“Wait… What? She killed your sister? Ho
w is she walking free? Shouldn’t she be in jail?” The disgust in Talon’s tone only encourages me to tell him more.
“She should be, but the judge thought otherwise. She got off with a slap on the wrist if you ask me,” I sneer, doing my best not to remember that day in court. How distraught and heartbroken she looked. Fake, it was all fake to avoid jail time.
“How? How did it happen? I mean… you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I just can’t believe that girl killed someone. Like… murder?”
“Might as well have been. She went to a party with my sister. Both of them were drunk. They called me to pick them up. I was with a girl. I told them I would be there soon, but Kennedy didn’t want to wait. They left, she drove the car and wrecked it halfway home. My sister was ejected. She died instantly.” It kills me to even talk about it. My chest feels heavy, and the words come out slower. I hate that the last memory I have of my sister is telling her I would be right there and then not coming soon enough.
I was busy fucking some chick that didn’t mean anything to me. I didn’t even talk to Nicole afterwards. I should’ve been there for Jillian, but instead I was with another girl.
The worst part is that I only went out with Nicole to forget about Kennedy. I thought fucking another chick would get rid of the feelings I had. I didn’t want to come between her and my sister so I did everything I could to get Kennedy out of my head. How could I have known that could’ve saved Jillian’s life by doing exactly that.
“Fuck, man. That’s… that’s fucked up. I can’t believe she is here, going to school and that you haven’t murdered her yet.”
I smirk. “It isn’t without a shit ton of restraint, but yeah. So, now you know.”
“I’m sorry about your sister. I know it doesn’t help, but figured I’d say it.”
“It’s okay. She’s gone, and I can’t bring her back. Nothing to be sorry for.”
