“Although---it is sort of stupid---”
“I’m not trying it with you,” I say, flatly.
“It is wrong though, I mean girls do that sort of thing all the time. men can never get a little snuggle without being called gay, and it’s not it’s just wanting a little comfort now and then---”
“Do I have to murder you or are you going to stop talking about this?” I ask, annoyed, I’ve just lost connection losing my current book and now I have to reboot the tablet.
“Oh all right, just a thought though,” he says, leaning back in his chair. We reach for the crisps at the same time and jump away from each other.
Chapter 5
I don’t listen to music. I’ve asked every person here so far. They listen to music. they know what sort they like. They can name a favorite song. I can’t. I was unaware of this peculiarity. I know I’m different from them. I know they don’t think like me. I didn’t know I was this different, though. that there was this other thing they all had that I didn’t. I knew about morals, aversion to dead bodies, aversion to murder, guilt, love, fathers, one plane. One thing they think about all the time. as opposed to me, which is eight by the way. Eight different things in my head all the time. Music isn’t one of them. it makes me sad somehow and I’m not usually sad. I don’t like it. I didn’t know I was this far from all of them, and the fact that I didn’t know it irks me. I couldn’t be prepared for it. Kip looked at me strangely. I don’t want them to know. I don’t like them to know.
“Hey, what’re you thinking about?” Tom is standing in front of me, she rubs my arms but doesn’t move them down from my head like my sister used to. I move them down by myself.
“How’d you know I was thinking?” I ask. We are at the Chaplain dinner thing, so we’re allowed to mingle and chat. I’m thinking.
“Aren’t you always thinking?” she asks, with a smile.
“Do you like music?” I ask her.
“I guess---what do you mean?” she asks.
“I mean do you listen to music?” I ask.
“Yeah, sometimes, when I run I used to, sometimes at night when I can’t sleep, why?” she asks, still smiling at me and holding my gaze.
“Do you have a song you could name---maybe sing some of the lyrics?” I ask.
“Yes, probably a couple, why?” she asks, bemused.
“Kip asked me, and I don’t---I can’t name any songs I know,” I say, “I didn’t know I was that different from other people.”
“You don’t?” she asks, surprised, “I mean---- do you just not like it---like quiet maybe?”
“No, no, when I was a boy, I remember hearing music, playing, in school for assemblies, or in stores and such, and like I remember hearing things I liked and hearing a note, and not being able to hear the rest of it and wondering what it was.”
“What about that song, the one you sing to us when we march?” she asks.
“That’s something my sister used to play,” I say.
“You were telling me last night, how your sister died,” she says, frowning a little. Oh excellent I wanted to bring this up.
“Was I? I don’t remember well, what did I say?” I ask. Well that was easier than I made it out to be for the last twelve hours.
“She was strangled? Did they ever catch who did it?” shit shit shit.
“No,” I say, with a deep breath, “No, they didn’t.”
“You doing okay?” Liesel asks, kindly.
“Yeah,” I lie.
“You looked pretty bad in the gym earlier,” she says.
“Just over exposure to Titus,” I say, shrugging, “I’m better now. it felt really good to hit him.”
“I bet it did,” she says, with a smile. “You didn’t get in any trouble?”
“No, just detention duties, apparently Card has that effect on a lot of people,” I say.
“Well, that’s good,” she says.
“Oh will you quit trying to make small talk with the likes of me and go and try to snog somebody---like that Wendy girl literally everybody but Logan and I stare at?” I ask, with a sigh.
“What?” she laughs.
“I may be an idiot but I’m not blind, off you go, don’t worry about me, eh? I appreciate the concern, but I’d rather you have fun,” I say, “Go on, I’ll create a distraction if you like.”
“So long as it isn’t mopping the floor with Card, again, you’re on,” she says, grinning.
“That’s a once a day event, I promise,” I say.
“Come on, you sing that bloody song to us all the time, don’t you remember what it’s called?” I ask. I don’t know why I’m standing here talking to him. if it makes any sense to you please tell me. It’s one of those things you do and you know what a shitty idea it is like eating too much cake and then you go and do it anyway and it feels really good so you go and do it again and again and each time you think okay I shouldn’t do this but just once won’t hurt and soon you do it all the time but it feels so good inside you can’t but you feel really incredibly disgusting because you know you shouldn’t. And that’s what being in love with Titus Card feels like.
“No, I don’t think I ever knew the name. She used to listen to it on her boom box, in her room. Then after she died the boom box just sat in her room. and nobody ever went in there,” he says, his eyes cloudy, “It didn’t occur to me to go and get it and listen to something.”
“Do you remember the words?” I ask. I can’t think of the name of the song, though the melody is familiar.
“No, just the music, de deah dah, de deah dah, lada da lada da lada,” he sings, softly, his soft cold voice getting closer to my ear as he leans against me.
And I figure if I am going to love him for the rest of my life I might as well kiss him tonight.
“Hi,” I say, going over to Wendy. This is stupid. I’ve barely talked to her. why did I even listen to Leavitt?
“Hi,” she says, smiling a little shyly.
“So, ah, how do you feel about the tests tomorrow?” I ask, sort of leaning against the wall trying to look cool and not like I want to run away.
“Did you come over here because you want to kiss me?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I say, stupidly.
“Then why don’t you?” she asks, putting her hands on her hips and cocking her head.
“Okay,” I say. and then I do.
“So, please tell me more about Jesus---”
“If you’re trying to distract us from the cadets snogging they think inconspicuously by the bathrooms, you can stop at any point,” Harris says tiredly as he and Thorn and the Chaplain stand by the buffet of sweets. Half the biscuits and cookies and a dozen packets of milk are gone, most likely somewhere on Titus’ person but Tom would know she’s inspecting him right now.
“Okay, good, sorry, sir,” I say, wincing a little.
“Is that why you---” the chaplain looks hurt.
“Yes, sir, sorry, just trying to help,” I say, apologetically. After not getting thrown out for cleaning the gym with Card’s face, I’m honestly feeling pretty confident.
“Don’t worry about it, I don’t honestly care about their studies in human biology,” Harris says, craning his neck a little to watch Liesel and Wendy make out behind me. At least, that was what was happening last time I looked. “It’s better than other things they could be doing.”
“Like making improvised explosives out of cleaning supplies,” Thorne supplies.
“Yeah, at least now they’re occupied,” Harris says, still watching.
“Yes, if Tom distracts Card this much, we need to get them assigned together, then maybe the universe won’t come to an end,” Thorne says.
“Sir?” I ask.
“Oh, don’t you know, Leavitt? It’s the coming of the beast, soon the rider will come, riding a pale horse. As the seven monsters rise from the sea. And then the Beast will rise up and claim his followers with his mark upon their forehead. And they will ravage this land,” Thorne says, comple
tely seriously.
“What?” the chaplain says.
“Revelation, you should read it, Father,” Thorn says.
“Sir, isn’t Jesus supposed to stop that?” I ask, “I’m not distracting from snogging now I am just curious about Jesus.”
“Oh my god,” the Chaplain says.
“Not God, Jesus,” Harris says, helpfully.
“No, only the three prophets can slay the beast,” Thorne explains, “But they also will be slain.”
“Okay---that is not actually what it says---sort of,” the chaplain says, to Thorn then to me.
“Thank you, sir, I was relying on Jesus to save us, good to know he’s on that---sir why don’t you care about snogging?” I ask Harris.
“Yes, Jesus is on that. Jesus and Thorn are totally on that,” the chaplain says, dryly.
“Because, I was once a young person so I am not going to hinder the biological research of young people, in fact, as I said, I think it’s better than what they could be doing---Ebbel on the other hand is against the studies in human anatomy and oh damn there he is,” Harris says.
“You’re spending the night in the brig Card---” the man who would soon be dead, says, pulling me from the bliss of the arms of the goddess of beauty and light, my Adonia, my everything, her sweet scent filling me, my mouth my lips caressing her, my eyes seeing nothing but her skin her taste filling my tongue as I explored every inch of her with every available bit of flesh. Which is admittedly not a lot since I was fully clothed but I was working on it god damn it.
“Sir, I kissed him,” Tom says, as he drags me from her.
“I asked you,” I say, quietly, as he shoves us apart.
“Believe me, I blame him, but for talking back, go to detention duties, now,” he says, to Tom, who locks eyes with me before leaving.
Okay, so Ebbel wants to die to night. can do.
“Why did he do that? Does he want to die?” Thorn moans.
“They’re just kids,” Harris says.
“How long have they been at it?” Wilde asks him, annoyed.
“About ten minutes, I’m amazed Card didn’t need air,” Harris says, looking at his watch. “That’s really impressive.”
“The girls have some stamina over there as well, 10 min 37 seconds without a breath—oh he got them too, damn,” the chaplain says.
“Were you seriously timing it?” Wilde asks.
“I don’t pretend to have a life,” Harris says, holding up his arms innocently.
“I leave you to watch them for ten minutes,” Wilde says, shaking her head.
“Hey, he didn’t hit anybody,” Harris says, pointing at me.
“Keep it that way, Leavitt,” she growls.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say.
She wouldn’t love me if I killed him. If she knew I killed him. she wouldn’t love me. damn it. I saw her. I saw her face. when asked about my sister, sympathy love. Not the eyes you look on a murderer on, oh no. no. never. And I want her love. HE isn’t worth her love. The joy of it. the joy of the kill, that isn’t worth her love. I’m cleverer than half them put together, I know that. so like Kip says, use my cleverness to be the man she loves. Do that. it’s what I want. That and murder but I can’t have both, not purely. There will always be that between us, and it wouldn’t be pure or true. and I want it like that. I want what she said last night. I want to be sixteen, to have a life, to have fun, to get drunk and make out in back rooms and laugh at things that aren’t funny---I can try to be one of them. I can do it, I could become one of them, I can try anyway. Just for a while. While I love her. So I have to try.
“Ma’am,” I say, going up to Wilde.
“Yes, Card?” she asks, a bit amused I think she almost definitely saw me and Tom.
“Cadet Card reports: may I have a word in private ma’am?” I ask, avoiding staring at Harris and the Chaplain and Thorn.
“Yes,” she says, motioning for me to follow her a few feet away, “What is it?”
“Ma’am, you told me to tell you the next time I feel the need to antagonize somebody,” I say, taking a deep breath. Just do it just say it. “Well, I am, so I’d like it if you could send me to the Northern Rim as quickly as was convenient, so I can properly antagonize the enemy. I can complete the rest of training when I get back, it’s been done before in times of great need I’ve read about it.”
“Of course you have---and to be clear the time of great need is you feeling the need to antagonize somebody?” she asks, amused. God damn it. I thought she understood me. Nobody does. My brain burns.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, hoping she’ll see the pleading in my eyes.
“You’ll have to wait till training is over, but then we’ll be happy to oblige, write a memorandum about it once you’re out of the brig,” she says, sealing our fates.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, coldly, “Good evening, ma’am.”
So he dies.
“Brig?” Liesel asks me, an odd smile on her face.
“Yes,” I say, an odd look on my face.
“Me too,” she says, and we fist bump right before Ebbel takes both our shoulders to steer us to the door.
Okay, so my daughter is a lesbian---all the men in the universe considered that is really okay with me. I’ll have to find a completely unobtrusive way to tell her I don’t care since I’m pretty sure she’s been avoiding the topic on the messages, so I want to allay her fears. But that won’t happen tonight because she’s in the brig, poor thing. Only for kissing as well, that’s pretty rotten. Well, she’d gotten her kiss, if she takes after me she’ll be more than happy with that.
“Card is a trip,” Wilde says.
“What?” I ask, waking from my thoughts.
“Asking me to ship him off so he can antagonize the enemy, I think he means it as well,” she says.
“Good----was that his idea? Let’s do that, then, see what they make of him,” Thorn says, eagerly.
“Yes, he’s sixteen years old, we actually can’t do that, as in without emergency orders it’s illegal to do that,” she says.
“How do we get these emergency orders?” Thorne asks.
“We don’t, there isn’t imminent danger to the planet.”
“YES THERE IS!!!”
Chapter 6
I enjoy the killing. Now you think I’m horrible don’t you? You’re going on with morbid fascination, but you demonize me. Oh, you condemn me, but you’re going to go. See what happens. Go on because you like the heroes of this piece. The Leavitts and the Toms and the Kips and the Harrises, you like all them, so that’s why you say you go on. But that’s not why. You go on because of me. because you---you’re no better than me. you think you are, you believe you are. You say you don’t have the evil in you that I do. but let me say this. Just this.
In defense of murderers.
How many times have you cried? Probably a good many. How many times has somebody bullied you, humiliated you, mocked you, violated you, shamed you, burned you, outed you, cursed you----you’re in the tens, probably twenties. If you’re lucky, a member or two of your family hasn’t done all these things, hell, probably more than once. Let alone total strangers, the boy who knocked your new tablet out of your hands. The girl who broke your heart. the man who stole your girlfriend. The boy who stood you up. The boss who mocked you. the co worker who cheated you. the teacher who humiliated you. go on, you’ve got dozens more I know it. hopefully it only happened once, we won’t go into the fathers who abandoned you the mothers who beat you, the parents who starved you, the siblings you stole from you---we can find dozens of those as well. you’ve probably got ten, twenty of these people lined up in your mind now. They’re awful people, bullies, abusers, but hopefully you’ve moved on, you don’t see those people again. the Ebbels of this world. Rude. Crass. Impossible to deal with. mocking. Making life a misery so long as you’re in in it with them. They’re rotten aren’t they, you agree? Yes, I thought you might.
Well, let me tell you something. They go
on. you don’t see them again, but they’re off, making life miserable for somebody else. bBut that’s just a little bit of pain, you say, I’m not dead, they just hurt me, wounded me, I’m still here or we wouldn’t be talking, eh? Yes, yes you’re still here.
And I’m still here.
And don’t think that---I’m not defending myself in that I’m murdering the bully, the abuser. Oh, no, I’d never sink so low. I am, in this instance. But it would be just as sweet an act as if I were killing Leavitt, or Tsegi, or Peter, or any of them.
You see, there are many evil things in this world. Many, many evil people. Think about it, you’ve made somebody cry at some point, haven’t you? Been crueler than you might have been? Come on, own up, a harsh word here or there. for a moment, we’ve all been the Ebbel. I know I have. Many times.
Maybe but that’s not evil you say. that doesn’t make you evil. No, no it doesn’t. it makes you a bit of evil, though you’re a part of it. you, for however brief a time, you were somebody’s Ebbel. You were somebody’s bully, their broken heart, their loneliness. You added evil to this world, you didn’t subtract.
Nor do I. Oh, I must certainly add. I am evil as well. as I said, there are evil things in this world. I am one of them. I give that to you freely.
But, you see, in my evil, I am quick. I am neat. I am clean. Yes, I plan to torture him. Yes, I plan to take his life. And I will. I have taken life before. I stared into my sister’s eyes as she died, she did not deserve that, I admit. I was evil. I destroyed her. but I am quick. I torture, I have my fun, then I end you. I send you on to the next adventure. The afterlife---hailed as so beautiful. Well, my victims get to find out. I don’t make them live with wounds, nightmares, fears, hate, anxiety.
No.
I set them free.
I do my deed, indulge my vice, and I let them go on, as they would have anyway, a bit sooner with my interference, I grant you, but I don’t stop them. I don’t give them wounds to carry, scars, mental or physical, loneliness, torture. My bit of torture, under an hour, we’re done, you’re free to go. I’ve had my fun. It’s over. the same can’t be said of bullies, abusers, the Ebbels of this universe, their scars, you’ll be crying at therapists years later, sobbing into your pillow at night retelling stories when you’re drunk and bored, about how this happened and that’s why you’re drunk, that’s why you’re a bore, that’s why you’re not anything, that’s why you lurk in the shadows reading other’s tales, analyzing you call it---judging us.
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