by Carl Weber
Darnel
47
I was headed home, feeling good. Today, I ’d found out two couples I had sold houses to were approved for their mortgages, and another couple made an offer on a house we had listed. So much for the real estate business being in the toilet. Not a bad day’s work if I did say so myself. I was glad Dad had insisted I take the test for my real estate license when I got out of college, even though at the time I had no intentions of joining the family business. Because I was already educated in the field and had experience in sales, I was able to hit the ground running when I did step in to fill Dad’s shoes while he was receiving cancer treatments.
Speaking of my father, I was going to stop by his house to check on him once I changed my clothes. Although we spoke every day, he hadn’t come by the office in two days, and that just wasn’t like him. No matter how ill the chemotherapy made him feel, he still managed to stop by for a short while each day. I think being in the office helped take his mind off his troubles too.
He’d been going through a depression lately with Jamie being gone. He assured me that he knew she was in good hands. He trusted that the feds would keep her safe and that Louis would treat her like the princess she’d been raised to be. But I knew her absence still left an empty place in his heart. And the chemotherapy and radiation sure didn’t help, because he looked like he’d aged five years in a few months’ time.
I was so worried about him that I ’d asked my mother to come up and spend some time with him. I didn’t want him to ever feel alone in his remaining days. She refused, telling me that she was done with him after he got together with Sandra. She had finally reached the breaking point in their decades-long relationship and promised herself she would never again leave her heart vulnerable to him. All she wanted from James Black was for him to do right by me. It was a shame, really, because I knew deep down inside he was the only man she ever really loved.
When I got home, I rushed to the mailbox like I ’d done every day for the past two months, hoping that I ’d find a letter or postcard from Jamie. Nothing ever came from her, but I kept hoping. My dad had told me what details he knew about how Jamie and Louis ended up in the Witness Protection Program, and I knew the chance of us hearing from her anytime soon—if ever—were slim, but part of me didn’t want to believe it. I missed my pain-in-the-ass little sister a lot. I just prayed that she was okay.
Inside my house, I sat down at the kitchen table and thumbed through the mail, throwing bills and junk mail to the side. I was left with two envelopes. One was a letter from an old college friend, and the other was in a pale blue envelope with fancy writing. It appeared to be some sort of card or invitation.
I opened it up and read the contents:
You are cordially invited to the wedding of
Keisha Nia Nichols and Omar Jonathan Wilkins
On March 25th
I dropped the invitation like it was on fire, then sat at my kitchen table, stunned, for a good few minutes. Even after Omar attacked me outside my office, I ’d tried to forget about him and Keisha, but deep down, I couldn’t. I functioned in my day-to-day life and was doing well with the real estate business, but that was just how I appeared on the outside. Inside, that hatred was still smoldering in the pit of my stomach. I thought about them every day, especially since they seemed obsessed with sending me reminders of how they’d betrayed me. Over the past two months, they had e-mailed me pictures of themselves doing all the things Keisha and I used to do, like going to Times Square, having dinner at City Island, going down to Atlantic City, and, of course, having sex. It was like they were trying to provoke me into doing something I shouldn’t. But I was determined not to let them get to me.
It was hard work, but every time I heard from the two lovebirds, I managed to suppress my anger. Yeah, sure, I cursed them out when they called me at three and four o’clock in the morning, but eventually I changed my number and my e-mail address. I ’d tried to remain focused on positive energy so that I could stay strong for my father and help him keep his business afloat. With Jamie gone, I had to shoulder all the responsibility, and I wanted to step up to the plate like a man. I couldn’t let Keisha and Omar distract me. When they taunted me and flaunted their relationship during their late-night phone calls, the pain would gnaw at me until I wanted to rip my heart out, but I always found a way to bury it deep down inside. The only thing that really made it bearable was that I promised myself that once my father was better, I would get them back. I didn’t know yet how I would do it, but one day I would have my revenge.
I thought that my payback would come sometime far in the future, but this wedding invitation was the final straw, and I was no longer able to control my rage. Not after this. Not after seeing that the date they set for their wedding was exactly one year to the day after Keisha was supposed to become my wife. They’d been screwing for years, but they’d only been a couple for a few months, and yet they were already setting a wedding date. I couldn’t believe how sick this was. They had obviously chosen this hurried date just to hurt me—as if they hadn’t already done enough damage. Well, they’d been trying to get a reaction out of me for months, and now they’d get one for sure. They’d be sorry they ever messed with me.
I walked over to the living room and poured myself a glass of Grey Goose vodka, gulping it down like ice water. It did nothing to put out the fire of hatred that was burning in the pit of my stomach. For months now, they’d been treating me like I was a piece of shit that had no feelings. Well, contrary to popular belief, I did have feelings, and they’d all been transformed into one big tornado of rage that was getting ready to touch down on both of them. I should have killed them both when I had had a chance.
I finished off another glass of Grey Goose, adrenaline coursing through my body. I couldn’t think clearly. As I drained half the bottle of vodka, I just kept seeing images of them going down the aisle, laughing at me the whole time. I started pacing across the living room floor, growing more enraged with each step. Before I could calm myself down, I was back in my car, driving over to Keisha’s place to confront them.
I parked right in front of the building. I knew that I should go home or at least call somebody, but I just couldn’t stop moving to think. I stepped around to the back alley so I could see if the lights were on in the apartment. The only room lit was the kitchen. I felt my pulse jumping out of my body as I broke out in a cold sweat.
“Walk away, man.” I heard the voice and barely recognized it as my own. A part of me knew they weren’t worth it; those two dirt bags deserved each other, and I should just keep stepping and let them have each other. But I couldn’t. My wounded heart wouldn’t let me. My rage propelled me forward.
I crept up the fire escape. It was a hot night, and even from the street, I could see that the bedroom window was open. I peeked inside, and in the dim light coming from the street, I saw Omar and Keisha fast asleep. She was pressed up against him, and his arm was over her back. They were both butt naked. From the way the covers were strewn about on the floor, it looked like they’d done some wild screwing before they fell asleep.
“Calm down, man.” I tried to steady my breathing.
My heart was pounding out of my chest. I watched Keisha move, throwing her leg on top of his. I could see all of them—more than I ever wanted to see of their bodies. I stared at Omar’s dick, the one thing that made him special in Keisha’s eyes. She was right; it was huge. Even soft, it was bigger than mine erect.
My head filled with Keisha’s voice, taunting me: And, yes, he did have a bigger dick, and he wasn’t afraid to use it. And guess what? I could handle it. I liked it.
I hadn’t forgotten how she boasted to me that day. What man could ever forget the day his manhood was taken from him? And it made the insult that much more offensive that she was comparing me to my best friend. I felt like ripping his dick off and shoving it down her throat.
That’s when the thought came to me, fueled by my burning desire for both of t
hem to suffer the way they’d made me suffer: That damn thing had to go. Without Omar’s huge package to satisfy that whore, what would he and Keisha really have? Talk about sweet revenge.
My racing heart pumped Grey Goose through my veins as I climbed in the bedroom window and slid into the living room. Before I realized it, I was standing in the kitchen, staring at the Wüsthof knives that I ’d bought when we moved in. I took a large butcher knife out, then stepped away from the counter.
“You are not going to cut that man’s penis off,” I said out loud.
When I was little, my mother always told me I talked to myself. But then she would say that it was okay as long as I didn’t answer myself—because if I did, I was crazy.
“Oh yes, I am going to cut his penis off,” I answered myself.
I felt myself moving, walking back into the bedroom, but at the same time, it was like I was watching myself from across the room. I felt split in two.
I headed toward the window, thinking clearly for a moment and realizing it was time to get out of there. But before I got a foot out, I glanced back at my two enemies, sleeping peacefully. Keisha and Omar had taken advantage of my kindness. I chose to love them all those years, and this was how they repaid me. This was what they thought of my life.
I was in more pain than even the night before I was supposed to get married. That was a shock, but this was worse, because I realized that not only did they know they were hurting me, but they got off on the idea of how miserable I was.
Yeah, they probably called me stupid and naïve as they were screwing like wild animals. They probably made fun of everything that was important to me.
I watched their chests rise and fall with each slow, peaceful breath they took. They were probably dreaming of their next plot to torment me. Everything inside me froze. I just wanted this madness to be over.
I crept back over to the bed and stood over Omar, raising the knife above my head and imagining what it would be like to bring it down between his legs. At that moment, I saw Keisha’s eyes flicker, though they remained closed. She was sleeping, her mouth in the shape of a smile, all pleasure as she rolled over and wrapped her arms around Omar.
That slight movement was enough to bring me back to my senses. I realized I had to get out of there before I did something stupid. Unfortunately, Keisha’s movement had woken Omar.
“What the fuck?” he mumbled as his eyes opened and he saw me standing there. He threw his arm out to swing at me, and as I moved to defend myself, I lost my balance and fell toward Omar. The knife pierced his chest.
Oh dear God, what the fuck did I just do?
“Uuuh.” Omar gasped when I pulled out the knife. Confusion and panic gripped me. It was as if Omar was no longer real, no longer human. I was unable to form a thought; all I wanted to do was take back what had just happened. But somehow, when Omar moved, I knew that I had to finish what I had started. Letting him live would mean the end of my life as I knew it. My father was sick, and there was no one else to take care of him; I couldn’t risk Omar telling the police that I ’d stabbed him. It would mean certain jail time.
Closing my eyes, I plunged the knife in once more. This time, he stopped moving.
I opened my eyes and saw Keisha next to him, awake, her face covered in blood spatter and her eyes wide with fear. “Oh my God, you killed him,” she said in a horrified whisper. “You killed him.”
“I didn’t mean to. It was an accident,” I tried to explain, but from the look on her face and the way she was shaking her head and mumbling to herself, I knew she didn’t believe me.
Stabbing Keisha was harder than stabbing Omar, but I knew I had to do it before she could scream. Besides, she’d never keep her mouth shut. When I pulled the weapon from her body, there was no need to stab her a second time. She was gone.
I fell back onto the floor, dropping the knife by my side. The entire room was spinning, and I couldn’t catch my breath. I struggled to comprehend what had just happened, because it didn’t seem real. It was as if the pieces of myself that had splintered were just coming back together. Maybe I was just waking up from a bad dream. I looked around the room and saw that the walls Keisha and I had painted a beautiful sea green were now speckled with deep red. Everywhere I looked, I saw the same red. And now, finally, I was calm. I just wanted to close my eyes and rest.
“Oh my God!” The neurons in my brain started firing again, and I realized that my clothes were painted red with the blood of two people I had once loved dearly. I looked at the two lifeless bodies on the bed, then down at the knife lying beside me.
“What have I done?”
A river of tears flowed from my eyes. I loved this woman. And even though he’d betrayed me, I still loved Omar. They’d hurt me deeply, but I had never really closed off that part of my heart that still loved them. And now they were dead by my hands. I wanted to die, too, to have this be over. I was so tired of hurting, of gnawing myself raw with thoughts of their betrayal.
I raised the knife high in the air but then dropped it from my trembling hands. I couldn’t do what I wanted to do.
I had to call someone. I found my phone buried in my pocket, and I dialed the one person I needed.
“Dad …”
James
48
My cell phone was ringing, and by the time I crossed the living room to pick it up off the coffee table, my chest was heaving. I picked up the phone and checked the caller ID while I caught my breath.
I was happy to see Darnel’s number displayed on the screen. He’d been working his butt off over at the office lately, and I had been wanting to talk to him so I could tell him how proud I was. Plus, my health was declining steadily now, and it was time I finally told him about the doctor’s prognosis.
“Hey, son,” I answered.
“Dad … I need you to come over here.” His voice was thick with panic, sounding almost like it had when he was a child and he would call me to come save him from one of Crystal’s spankings.
“What, son? What is it? Are you all right?”
“Yes … no, I’m not really sure. I just need you to come here. Right now.”
I was wrong. His voice sounded worse, much more scared than he’d ever sounded as a child. Hearing him so distraught set off some sort of primitive instinct inside of me. Suddenly, my adrenaline was rushing, and I was ready to take on whatever was necessary to protect my son.
“Where are you, son?”
“I’m over at Keisha’s.”
“What?” I caught myself and tried to speak in an even tone. I didn’t mean to raise my voice, but there was no logical reason for him to be at her house. “What are you doing there?”
“I just need you to come over here right away.”
I decided to stop questioning. My son needed me, and that was all that mattered. “I’ll be right over.”
The moment I hung up, a wave of dread came over me. My mind sifted through the possibilities: Maybe he went over there and tore the place up. What if she came home and now the cops were there? Or what if he set fire to the place? Any one of those scenarios meant plenty of trouble for Darnel. I tried to take my thoughts in another direction. Maybe they ran off and eloped and now he’s having second thoughts. That could be more easily solved, I decided. But deep in my heart, I knew that none of those explanations could account for the chilling tone in Darnel’s voice. No, something worse had happened.
Gripped with fear, I climbed into my car and took the longest drive of my life. When I finally pulled up in front of Keisha’s apartment, I heaved a deep sigh and walked on trembling legs to the front door. Each step I took up to her second-floor apartment was accompanied by a burning pain in my chest. I ignored it as best I could, focusing only on Darnel’s panicked plea, which still echoed in my head: I just need you to come here.
I rang the doorbell. Slowly, the door creaked open, and there stood Darnel, looking like he was in some sort of trance. I stepped inside the dimly lit living room, and my nose wa
s assaulted by a strange metallic smell. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I realized that Darnel’s shirt and pants were covered in blood.
“Oh my God! Son, what’s wrong with you? What happened to you? Who did this to you?” As I spoke, I was examining him, looking for the source of the bleeding. I struggled to comprehend what could have happened. Could Keisha have done this? Or maybe she had a new man who had come by and caught Darnel here.
Darnel still hadn’t moved, still hadn’t spoken.
“You okay?” I was about to pull out my cell phone and call the police, but he reached out a hand to stop me.
“Dad, I’m all right.” His voice sounded surprisingly measured, calm.
“What the hell happened? What’s all this blood on your clothes?”
Tears began to flow down his expressionless face. “I just snapped,” he told me in a hoarse whisper. “I couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t mean to do it, Dad. I swear. I love them both so much.”
“Who are you talking about? What did you do?” I grabbed his shoulders and shook him. I was so afraid, and all I wanted was for my son to come out of this trance and tell me everything was fine.
“Omar and Keisha.”
“What happened to them?”
“I killed them.”
He said the words that I had been afraid of hearing. From the sound of his voice on the phone to the sight of his bloody clothing, my subconscious mind had already pieced together the truth. But only now as he spoke it out loud did I feel my whole world come crashing down around me.
“They’re dead, Dad. I don’t know what came over me. I lost it.”
I watched as Darnel, my son who had grown into such a fine young man, fell apart and cried like a baby. “Daddy, please help me.”
