Darkness Within

by Isabel Lucero

  “Do you know Ms. Weber?” she questions. “I can pass on a message if you’d like.”

  I plaster on a smile. “That’s very nice of you, but it’s actually a surprise for her. You see, she’s friends with my grandmother, and she wanted to know if Kathy was back yet, because she needs to set up the party.”

  “Party?” she questions, a smile gracing her face. “Ms. Weber loves parties, especially if they’re in her honor. What’s the party for?”

  I try not to look like a deer in headlights, because I don’t know when her birthday is, so I’m not sure if I can get away with saying that’s the reason. “Well, I’m supposed to keep my mouth shut,” I say, pretending to lock my lips with a key, giving her a wink.

  “Oh,” she says, blushing. “Sorry. Of course. Well, I think she’s scheduled to come back Tuesday night, so you should be able to plan the party for any time after then.”

  “Great. Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver.”

  “Oh,” she says again, waving her hand at me. “It’s no problem.”

  “Have a good night,” I say, heading back to my truck.

  “You too.”

  As soon as my back is turned, I lose the fake smile and a sinister one replaces it. I can now start planning her demise.

  “Thank fuck it’s Friday!” Tim announces at the end of the day. “What’re you guys doing?”

  Tim, Nick, and I have already started walking towards our cars, ready to get the fuck out of here.

  “I don’t have any plans,” Nick answers. “Just hoping for a quiet night, really.”

  “Quiet night? You?” Tim asks with a laugh. “Are you sick?”

  “Nah. I’m just tired. Got a lot going on,” he says, glancing over at me.

  “You just depressed me. What about you, Donovan?” Tim asks.

  “I got plans with this girl.”

  Tim’s eyebrows go up. “Oh really? Date night?”

  “Fuck off.”

  He laughs. “Well, at least you’re gonna be doing something. Nick’s gonna be sad and lonely at home, and I don’t have shit going on. Was hoping Nick would come out with me,” he says, nudging Nick in the arm. Nick doesn’t respond. “Whatever. Guess I need more friends.”

  “Well, have fun doing whatever you do,” I tell him. I look at Nick, but don’t say anything to him. He’s clearly in a pissy mood and I don’t have time for it.

  “And you have fun doing whatever you’re gonna do,” he says, waggling his brows. Badly.

  I flip him off before getting into the truck and blasting the AC.

  As soon as I get home, I jump in the shower and clean the sweat and dirt from my body. Analeigh texted me earlier, telling me to meet her at the restaurant she works at—George’s—at eight. Since I have an hour and a half until then, I snack on some chips while I get dressed.

  She’s always giving me shit about wearing black so often, so I choose to wear a dark red shirt. Never mind the fact that I pair it with black jeans, my black boots, and the shirt itself has black designs on it.

  I trim my beard a little, comb my hair back, and then sit in front of the TV until it’s time to leave.

  “It appears the body was found behind the closed door. We’re waiting to announce the name of the victim until family can be reached. As of now, the police don’t have any suspects.”

  I find myself intrigued by the news, but having missed the beginning of the report, I don’t know what the news lady is talking about. What body? Where?

  My phone rings and Nick’s name flashes across the screen. “What’s up?” I ask as soon as I answer.

  I try to listen to the news and Nick at the same time, but his voice comes over the receiver loud and panicked. “Donovan. I need your help, man. I need you to come down here. My dad,” he pauses, his voice breaking, “he came back, and . . . fuck!”

  “Nick, what happened?” I question.

  “He came back last night, but I didn’t let him in,” he answers, sounding breathless. “He kept beating on the door and threatening me, but I ignored him and he eventually left. When I came home from work today, I found out my mom was in the hospital. He beat her, Donovan. He broke her arm, and it’s all because I didn’t let him in!”

  “Nick, you wouldn’t have been able to stop him. It’s not your fault.”

  “I have to kill him, Donovan. He has to die.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” I ask. “What do you need my help with?”

  “I fucking need you, man! I need your help.”

  “What makes you think I’m some fucking pro at killing people? You’ve got to get that shit out of your head, man.”

  “Goddammit, Donovan!” he yells, his emotions getting the best of him. “You know what? Fuck it.” He hangs up on me.

  I huff, grabbing my cigarettes and lighting one up. “Jesus Christ,” I say aloud, feeling stressed out.

  With a glance at the time, I grab my keys and start driving down towards George’s. The whole time I think about what I should do about Nick. If he goes and tries to kill his dad on his own, I have no doubt he’ll get caught. Maybe he won’t do anything at all, and perhaps his dad will kill his mom next time. Or maybe he’ll kill Nick. I don’t know Nick’s mom, but I know Nick enough to know that she’s not a bad person. Neither Nick nor his mom deserve anything that asshole puts them through, but it’s not anything I should involve myself in.

  When I get into San Bernardino, I find that I’m forty minutes early, so I take it upon myself to swing by Nick’s place just to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. He doesn’t need to go to jail over this, and his emotions are controlling him, making him not think clearly.

  I pull along the curb in front of his apartment and throw the truck in park before getting out and padding across the lawn to get to his door. After I knock, it only takes a few seconds for the door to open. He doesn’t say anything to me, just leaves it open and goes back into the apartment.

  After closing the door, I follow him into the kitchen where he’s frantically scouring the drawers. He pulls out a small kitchen knife and rushes past me to his room.

  “What’re you doing, Nick?”

  “I told you,” he replies, coming back into the kitchen to look through more drawers.

  “What’re you gonna do with that?” I ask with a small laugh, gesturing to the kitchen knife in his hand.

  He lifts it up and makes the mistake of pointing it in my direction. “Don’t laugh, Donovan.”

  The swiftness in which I pull my serrated pocket knife from my jeans, releasing the sharp, five and a half inch blade, surprises him. I’m instantly in his face, my knife pointed directly at him. “Don’t do that again,” I warn.

  His face pales and the knife he was holding clatters to the kitchen counter. “I’m . . . I’m sorry,” he stammers, looking at me like he doesn’t know who I am. And he’d be right.

  I take a step back, giving him space. “Now what the fuck are you doing?”

  He breaks down, crying into his hands. “You should’ve saw her. She doesn’t even look like herself,” he says. “Her face is swollen and bruised. She has a concussion and a broken arm. He tried to kill her.”

  In an attempt to be there for him, I step closer and put my hand on his shoulder. I don’t really deal well with people’s emotions. I don’t know how to react, so I just do what I do best and pretend.

  “She’ll be okay, man. It’s not your fault.”

  I back away again, and then I hear a car door slam shut outside.

  “Shit!” Nick yells, running for the front door.

  “What?”

  Before he can get there, the door gets kicked open, hitting Nick in the face and knocking him to the ground. He looks like he’s out cold, and his fucking dad is back.

  IT ONLY TAKES a few seconds to figure out what’s going to happen here. There is no doubt that Terry is pissed for what happened the last time he was here, and while I’m sure he didn’t know I’d be here now, it sweetens the pot fo
r him. He wants revenge. I can see it in his eyes when he looks at me.

  Several things go through my mind at once. I know a fight is coming, and the only thing I need to decide on is how far to take it. I can fight him, waiting for the opportunity to knock him out, and either take him out of the apartment, or take Nick with me and leave his dad here. Or option two is to kill him and dispose of his body before Nick wakes up. It’ll have to be quick, because I doubt Nick will be out for long.

  “You,” he snarls, venom dripping from the single word. “You like interfering in family business?”

  I don’t answer him. It wouldn’t matter what I said anyway. I just watch him as he slowly makes his way towards me. He’s doing his best to look intimidating, and perhaps he’d scare any normal person, but not me. I’m not normal, and I don’t scare easily.

  “He call you over here?” he asks. “You his bodyguard or something? Or are you just a couple of queers?” he says with a smug look, like he’s happy with himself over that comment. He’s trying to rile me up, and I’ll let him. He can throw insults all he wants, because all it’s going to do is piss me off, and we know what happens then. “That it?” he smirks. “You his boyfriend, here to protect him? Nick’s never been able to defend himself. He’s soft. Weak. Nothing like me. I doubt he’s even mine,” he says, looking over his shoulder at a still unmoving Nick.

  I lean my hip against the kitchen counter, waiting for him to get closer. My lack of fear seems to anger him.

  “Oh, you’re a tough guy, huh? You ain’t afraid of nothin’. That what this is?” he asks, gesturing to my relaxed stance. “Well, you ain’t gotta be afraid for me to kick your ass. You still look like a pussy to me. Which one of you is the girl in this relationship?” he asks with a laugh.

  I continue to stare at him without saying anything, and with just a few more steps he’s right in my face.

  “You answer me when I’m talking to you, boy.”

  I stand up straight, giving me an extra four inches on him. His eyes flicker to the counter to the right of us, and he quickly reaches over and grabs the dull knife Nick had earlier. As soon as I see his fingers curl around the handle, I make my move.

  It’s fast. He never saw the knife in my hand. I stick the serrated blade into his chest, right near his heart. His hand that wields the knife still swings in my direction, grazing my shoulder. I hear it clatter to the floor as his eyes widen in shock.

  My free arm goes around his back, holding him close to me as I pull the knife out.

  “Not the answer you were expecting, huh?” I whisper into his ear as I plunge the knife into his heart, twisting it to make the injury worse. I feel the warmth of his blood coat my hand, dripping down to my elbow.

  His death is fairly silent. He gasps and groans a few times, but shock takes over, confusing him. I watch for a couple minutes as the life leave his body. I hold him up against me, his blood soaking into my clothes.

  My shoulder stings a little, informing me that his knife—though somewhat dull—still cut me. I have to yank my knife from his chest, but once it’s free, I place it on the counter and watch as his body begins to crumble to the floor.

  Using both arms, I wrap them around him, keeping him upright. I need to haul him over my shoulder and get him to my truck. The dark will hide any blood, and if neighbors are outside, I’ll say he drank himself unconscious.

  As I’m about to lift him up, Nick begins to stir on the floor. I quickly hurl him over my right shoulder, grab the knife and stick it back into my pocket, and start walking towards the door. I can explain the blood by telling Nick we got into a fight. He won’t need to know what really happened. I’ll tell him I told him to take off and never come back.

  When I reach the middle of the living room, Nick groans and his hand comes up to rub his head. I quicken my steps, needing to make it another five feet before I’m out the door. Four feet. Three feet.

  “Donovan?” Nick’s voice stops me in my tracks. “Is he,” he begins, sitting up. “Is he dead?”

  I turn my body just a fraction, still holding his lifeless father over my shoulder, my shirt and hands soaked in his blood. “He is.”

  Nick stands up slowly, still rubbing the knot on his head. He takes several seconds to take in the sight in front of him, as well as the blood that got onto the white, kitchen tile. I watch as his eyes stay on my right hand. It’s not because it’s the one that’s holding onto his father, but because it’s completely blood-soaked.

  His face doesn’t let on to what he’s thinking, so I have to wait for him to voice his thoughts. I just wish he would fucking hurry, because his dad isn’t getting any lighter.

  “So, what do we do now?” Nick questions, seemingly unaffected.

  Not the response I was expecting. “We get rid of him.”

  “WHERE DO WE take him?” Nick whispers as we put his dad’s body into the bed of my truck, making sure the cover is secured in place.

  I pretend to think about it while we get inside and start driving away from the crime scene. “How about the job site?” I ask.

  “The job site?” he repeats, sounding shocked. “How? Where?”

  I shrug, pretending I don’t know. “Where else?”

  He bites on his thumb nail, looking concerned, but not altogether sad or angry.

  “What if we take him back to his place? The cops will think someone broke in and killed him.”

  Shaking my head, I say, “I don’t think so. They’ll know he wasn’t killed there, and it will make the investigation even bigger.”

  Nick thinks about that for a little while then nods his head in agreement. “Yeah. It’s best he isn’t found. That way the cops will just think he took off after beating Mom.”

  I don’t say too much, letting Nick do that on his own. Plus, I’m waiting for him to ask me what happened. I’m surprised he hasn’t done so yet.

  We continue to drive to nowhere in particular for several more minutes before Nick says anything again. Everything is darker now that it’s going on eight, but it’s still early enough for plenty of people to be out and see us. We have to go somewhere secluded.

  “What you were saying about the job site,” he starts. “Do you mean in the ground?” His eyes widen like he’s just come up with something. “Oh! What about in that foundation you’re digging? We could do that, right? Nobody would find out about that. We won’t get caught.”

  His voice is starting to become a little panicky, and now I begin to worry about what he may say. Will the guilt get to him? Will he feel the need to tell someone what happened?

  “Yeah, that could work,” I say, pretending like it was never my idea. Like I haven’t already done it.

  As I drive towards the site, I wait for Nick to say something, but he only continues to bounce his legs nervously and bite on his thumb nail as he looks out the window. He may be on the verge of hysteria, and that’s the last thing I need.

  “Nick,” I begin, but he cuts me off.

  “Thanks, Donovan.”

  “What?” I ask, baffled.

  “I know you did that for me. Because I asked. I just want you to know I appreciate it.”

  I take a deep breath. “That was self-defense, Nick. Your dad came at me with a knife. It was gut instinct to protect myself,” I lie. I wanted to kill him. I enjoyed it. I don’t tell Nick that, though. “Are you all right, because you don’t look like you’re handling this too well.”

  I can feel him staring at the side of my face as I drive. “I’m fine,” he says in a tone that’s a little too high. “He tried to stab you?”

  “Yeah, with the knife you had left on the counter.”

  “Self-defense?” he asks again.

  “Yes, Nick. Self-defense,” I reply, annoyed at his disbelief, even though he’s right in not believing me.

  “But I thought—”

  “Thought what?” I cut in. “That I’m a serial killer? What have I told you, man?”

  He rubs the palm of his hand over his fore
head, his body stiff with tension. “Yeah, no. I know,” he says, sounding confused. “I just thought . . . never mind,” he finishes, his legs bouncing like crazy and his hands going through his hair. He’s frantic.

  I hate having to do this, but I don’t have a choice. “You and me are in this together. You know that, right? You can’t say anything. This was an accident, but now we’re covering this up together. We’re disposing of his body, and we could get in trouble for that. You can’t say anything, Nick. There’s no time to freak out.”

  “I know that,” he snaps, turning his head to look at me. When I look back at him, he moves his gaze to the windshield, calming his tone. “I know. I’m not gonna say anything. I wanted the bastard dead. It’s just, I don’t know, I guess I never thought it would happen.” He takes a breath. “I’m not gonna say anything, Donovan.”

  “Good,” I say with a single nod.

  “How are you not a little freaked out, though?” he questions, and I realize I don’t have my normal person mask on. A normal person who accidentally killed someone would be freaking out. It’s too late to put the mask on now, so I have to lie again.

  “I am. I did. I panicked at your place. You were just unconscious. By the time you woke up, I had already come to the conclusion that I needed to get rid of the body.”

  “Were you just gonna keep this from me? If I didn’t wake up, would you have told me what happened?”

  I wait a little while before answering. It has to look like I’m conflicted about answering. “I don’t know. Maybe not. I knew you’d be rid of him and that you’d be happy about that. I didn’t think you needed to know what happened.”

  He shakes his head vigorously. “Of course I’d want to know!” he screeches. “He’s been a nightmare my whole life. The shit he’s put me and my mom through—” he stops, wiping furiously at his eyes. “I’d want to know that we wouldn’t have to deal with him again. If I didn’t know he was dead, I’d be living everyday looking over my shoulder.”

  I nod. “Okay. Now you know you don’t have to worry anymore. You can’t tell your mom what happened though. Just tell her that he took off.”