by Sean Platt
I look up and see Chelsea, standing right in front of Rocco’s bed, looking at his disgusting decor.
“Chelsea! It’s me, Ella. I’m in Rocco’s body!”
“Yeah, I can see you. What happened? Last thing I knew I was thinking of Carla. I wound up in a doctor’s office with her and Waylon, but I don’t think it was a normal office because doctors aren’t usually open on Sundays, right?”
“No, it’s probably someone Waylon knows. Is she okay?”
“I think so. What happened to you? Did those Collectors get a hold of you?”
“I don’t think so. I vanished right after you, then woke up here, in paradise.”
Chelsea laughs.
It’s good to hear her laugh.
“How did you find me?”
“I just thought of you, and I wound up here.”
“Wow. So you can control it now?”
“Maybe. Or maybe I got lucky twice. I don’t wanna mess around too much and wind up somewhere I don’t want to be, or lost without a way to get back.”
“I understand. Listen, I found out who coerced you into making that … video.” It feels weird to mention the video to Chelsea, like I’m violating her just by talking about it, and, of course, by having seen it.
“Who?” she asks, eyes wide, waiting for an answer.
“Blake Wellington.”
She stares at me for a long moment, and I’m not sure if she’s in disbelief, shock, or some other emotion I can’t quite decipher. I wait for her to speak.
I fill her in on everything I found out, how Rocco was raping several girls and filming it, how Kris probably uploaded Chelsea’s video to some porn site, and how Blake admitted to the whole thing in his texts.
She’s still staring, no expression.
“This is good news,” I say. “We’ve got them. I can walk into the police station right now and turn in this phone with enough evidence to put Rocco and Blake away.”
“No,” she says.
“What?”
“They’ll get off.”
“What do you mean they’ll get off? This is evidence of blackmail, extorting a sex video, and God knows how many rapes Rocco committed.”
“You don’t know how this town works. Their parents will find a way to get them off. They’ll pay off witnesses, experts, or something. Rocco’s father is a lawyer for criminals; it’s his job to get scumbags off on technicalities or bribe jurors.”
I’m not sure how she can possibly know they bribe jurors, or if she’s just overly dramatic.
“And Blake’s dad will never let his son do time. Never. It won’t happen. Blake had an older brother who was in a hit and run, was totally drunk, killed a family of three, and he never saw a day behind bars. You think a blackmail video will get him locked up? It’s his word against mine. And when it comes right down to it, he didn’t put a gun to my head. I could’ve said no.”
Her eyes are welling up, and it suddenly occurs to me that maybe, in some twisted way, Chelsea thinks she deserves what happened. Maybe that’s partly why she tried to kill herself. I want to ask, but I’m afraid if I’m wrong, I’ll only hurt her feelings.
“He forced you. He used a video he took of you, probably also illegal, to coerce your performance. That’s illegal as hell, and there’s no way any jury could see otherwise.”
“You’re assuming I’ll ever wake up to testify. Maybe this is it for me — doomed to walk the earth as a ghost forever. Maybe this is God’s sentence for trying to kill myself, or for being a lesbian. Maybe this is karma for all the shit I caused Carla to go through.”
I stand, put my hands on her shoulders, and meet her eyes.
She can barely look at me.
I’m not sure if it’s because I’m in the body of one of her tormentors, or if she doesn’t want to hear reason.
“First of all, God didn’t punish you for being a lesbian. That’s bullshit, okay? I don’t care what holy book says what, those books were written by men with agendas. You have to know that.”
“I don’t know what I know anymore.”
“Second of all, Carla is a grown woman. She should’ve been more cautious. Yeah, I get it, she loves you, but still, it’s on her more than you. You’re just a kid.”
“I’m eighteen. Not a kid.”
She’s starting to fight back a bit. Good.
“I’m going to the police station and turning Rocco and Blake in.”
“It won’t work!”
“We don’t know unless we try.”
“I have a better idea,” she says, finally meeting my gaze.
“What?”
“I want you to stop them so they can never do this to anyone else.”
“That’s what I’m going to do.”
“No,” she says. “Really stop them.”
“Are you saying you want me to … kill them?”
She nods.
“No, I can’t do that.”
“Why?”
“I don’t kill innocent people.”
“They’re innocent?”
“Well, no, they’re not innocent, but it’s not up to me to decide if they live or die. That’s why you have laws.”
She pauses for a moment, eyebrow arched. “Wait a second, what do you mean you ‘don’t kill innocent people?’ Are you saying you’ve killed others? Guilty ones?”
Shit, I was afraid she caught that.
I let out a deep sigh.
“You have, haven’t you?” Her grin is huge.
She hops onto the bed, sitting cross-legged. “Tell me.”
Well, I have wanted someone to confide in, and this is the first person to come along that’s in a similar situation, at least one who isn’t an assassin.
I tell her everything.
Once I’m done, she’s staring at me again, but this time not in shock. Judging from the small smile teasing the corners of her mouth, I think she’s admiring me.
“Don’t you see? This is why you’re here! You were meant to kill them. Why else would you be in Rocco’s body, one of the few people in Blake’s inner circle who could slit his throat or something?”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right.”
She stares at me, arms crossed, “It feels freaking perfectly right to me. Hell, I’d say it’s almost karmic! You were meant to be here, to do this. For me.”
“Killing them won’t change what happened to you, or Carla. And it won’t bring you back. It might even make you feel worse.”
“I can’t possibly feel worse than the way they made me feel.”
“You say that, but you don’t know it. Thinking about killing someone and doing it are two very different things. You have to live with itforever. I have to live with it forever.”
My phone rings.
I look at the screen and see Blake’s name.
Chelsea sees it and looks at me. “See? Fate!”
I pick up the phone.
“Yeah?” I say, figuring that’s how Rocco would answer his phone. I avoid the urge to add a grunt, even though I’m pretty sure it would crack Chelsea up.
“You ready?”
“Ready for what?”
“Dude, don’t tell me you forgot!”
I pretend to sound like I’m just waking up, stalling for time until Rocco’s memories fill me in on what it is I’m supposed to be doing with Blake. I’m guessing it’s not going to church.
Then I remember: a fishing trip on his new boat. Just the two of us.
“Nah, I’m just fucking with you. Gimme a few minutes to freshen up.”
“Freshen up?” There’s no way Rocco would say “freshen up.” He’d say “take a shower” or “wash my nuts.” Something more macho.
“Did you grow a pussy overnight?”
“You wish.”
“Well, hurry the hell up, I’m outside in your driveway. Tell your maid to open the door and let me in.”
There’s no way I want to put him in the same room as Chelsea. No, he probably can’t see her,
but I’m pretty sure she’ll lose it if she sees him.
“I’ll be right out,” I say.
“You sure you don’t want to freshen up?”
“Fuck you,” I say and hang up the phone.
I look up to find Chelsea is gone.
**
It’s a beautiful cool, crisp day in the middle of nowhere.
We’re sitting in Blake’s new boat — a present from Daddy for being a douche, I assume — in the center of Lake Harrison, with nothing but water and trees for as far as I can see in every direction. I can see the shore about twenty minutes away if I squint, along with Blake’s pickup and trailer.
There’s an open tackle box at my feet, and inside is a big fat knife practically begging me to stick it in Blake.
I can’t help but wonder if Chelsea is right. It sure as hell feels like Fate wants me to kill this spoiled rich bastard.
Blake is sitting in his seat in the bow, fishing pole in one hand, beer in the other. We haven’t caught anything, but I guess that isn’t the point of fishing with these two. It’s been mostly talking about football, chicks, and cars, topics I’m not exactly well-versed in. Fortunately, Rocco practically lives and breathes all three of those things, so responses are floating like low hanging fruit in his mind. Easy pickings, so long as I don’t overdo it and get too technical. It’s easy to talk with Blake since 90 percent of the conversation is him going on and on about these things. I think maybe he’s only friends with Rocco because the guy never disagrees, is an eager audience, and practically reveres him.
Hell, if I didn’t know better, I’d think Rocco has a bit of a crush on his friend.
Blake looks back at me, as if he senses something’s off. He lifts his shades, and his blue eyes pierce through me.
“Aren’t you gonna drink, man? What’s wrong with you?”
“Yeah, sure.” I lean forward from my spot in the center of the boat and dip my hands into the cooler full of ice, imported beer, and a few plastic bottles of water.
I grab a Heineken, even though I have no interest in drinking, and take a swig.
“There ya go.” Blake lowers his shades and gives me the charming grin he’s honed to perfection.
Chelsea’s voice startles me from behind. “Ask him about me.”
I jump up and drop the Heineken, nearly sending my pole into the lake.
“Shit, dude, what the fuck?” Blake asks, startled by my surprise.
“Sorry, I thought I saw something.”
Not the best response.
“You did see something,” Chelsea says. “Me.”
I turn to see her smiling.
“Oh, look,” she says, leaning over and looking into the tackle box, “a knife! How convenient!”
I want to tell her to go away, to shut up, but then I’d be talking to myself, and Blake will be on the defensive.
I grab the Heineken, having only spilled a bit, and take a quick drink.
Blake is looking at me. It’s hard to read his expression from behind the shades.
“So, what did you see?”
“Huh?”
“You said you thought you saw something, what did you think you saw? The Loch Ness Monster?”
I laugh, probably too forced, surely too nervous.
“No, just like a shadow or something. Ever see a shadow out of the corner of your eyes and it startles you?”
“Yeah, I guess.” He shrugs, then turns his attention to his line in the water, watching the bobber dip.
He sets down his drink and reels in the line to tighten it. The bobber dips down and reels faster.
Then the line goes slack.
“Shit!” he says, pulling in the now-empty hook. “Had a bass at least two feet wide.”
He digs into a Styrofoam container of worms, baits his hook again, and casts his line.
“Ask him about me,” Chelsea repeats.
I look back at her, noticing that even though a nice cool breeze is blowing through Rocco’s hair, hers is unfazed by the wind.
I mouth the word, fine.
“I don’t know,” I begin, “I’ve been spooked ever since Chelsea tried to kill herself.”
“Hmmph,” Blake says.
No other comment?
I look back at Chelsea, who yells, “Is that it, you fuck? Hmmph? Fuck you!”
I really wish she’d vanish, maybe spend some time with Carla.
“Do you think about her?” I ask.
“Who? Bible Girl?”
“Yeah. Do you think about her, or what we did?”
“What we did?” he hasn’t turned to look at me, which I find interesting. Is he suspicious of my line of questioning? I probably do sound like I’m wearing a wire. I should probably tone it down.
I turn back to Chelsea. She’s staring at Blake, awaiting his answer.
I push further. “I dunno, I feel bad. I mean, I know I didn’t want that video to get out there like that. I didn’t tell Kris to do it, but she did, and then, I dunno, shit just snowballed. Everyone seeing it and bullying her.”
“Bullying her?” Blake spins around and glares at me through shades. “Boo-fucking-hoo. Some people called her a slut; so fucking what? She was a slut. If you don’t want to be called a slut, don’t be one! What, and now you feel sorry for her?”
“I am not a slut!” Chelsea stands up and yells with her fists at her sides like an angry little girl, though it does no good.
“Well, yeah, I kind of feel sorry for her. I mean, we ruined her life.”
Blake laughs, takes off his shades, and sets his fishing pole down. “Let me get this straight, the dude who gets girls drunk or slips them GHB and rapes them, records it on video no less, is worried that we made a Christian hypocrite slut sad? Wow, this is rich! Maybe you did grow a pussy!”
“You’re right. I’m a hypocrite. I didn’t see it until someone tried to kill themselves because of shit we did.”
Blake stands. “What are you saying, Rocco?”
“I’m turning myself in. I think you should do the same.”
Blake looks like someone smacked him. His smile is gone, replaced with something stone cold sinister, devoid of life.
Is this a peek behind the sociopath’s mask?
“The hell I will.”
He’s starting toward me.
What the hell is he going to do, start a fight in the boat?
He gets right in my face, so close I can feel the hot air from his nostrils on my skin.
His blue eyes are now two icy marbles, staring right through my skull. “I strongly suggest you reconsider.”
“No,” I say.
“Give me your phone.”
“No.”
He shoves me back.
I stumble and fall.
Chelsea screams, reaching out to smack him, but her hand goes right through his body. How can she lock a bathroom door, but not hit a person?
Blake is on me in a second, reaching into my jacket pocket and grabbing the phone before I can stop him.
He seizes it, stands up, and chucks it into the water.
“What the hell?” I yell.
He turns back to me, glaring. “I just saved you from fucking yourself.”
“No, you’re saving yourself.”
Blake laughs. “You think my dad would let me get railroaded over some fucking video where some slut is spreading herself for me? Really? He’d have the state’s best lawyers, better lawyers than your dad, make that shit disappear faster than a donut at a Weight Watchers meeting. No, Rocco, I’m saving you. Because you think your father can save you from a dozen or two rape charges? Maybe one or two, dude, but not that many.”
I stare at Blake, weighing my next move. I don’t think he’s truly looking out for Rocco’s interests. He’s pretending to, but in reality, he’s hoping that Rocco won’t turn them in. Maybe he’s right, maybe his father will get him off, but there’s no way his reputation survives a scandal like this.
His body is tense, and for the first time, I
’m sure Blake poses a serious threat to Rocco.
Chelsea is standing silently to my side, watching, glaring at him so hard she probably wishes she could grab the knife herself.
I have to play him like he’s playing me.
I look down at the water, solemnly, almost ashamed to look at him. “You’re right, man. I’m sorry. I just … I don’t know. I feel like that bitch’s ghost is following me around or something, making me feel like shit.”
Blake sits down across from me, the tackle box, and the blade inside it, close enough for him to grab if he wanted.
I don’t even look at the box, staring at the water instead.
Blake says, “This shit has got you feeling guilty, man. It’s okay. We didn’t make Chelsea try and kill herself. She was a confused girl. Embarrassed about her affair with Ms. Valencia, afraid of what her Christian Daddy would say. That’s why she OD’d. This shit would’ve gotten out with or without us, believe me. A student-teacher scandal always gets out, man. You watch the fucking news, all these MILFs fucking teenage boys. It’s an epidemic, man, and this is the same, except this time with two dykes. But shit would’ve leaked, with or without us.”
I finally meet his eyes. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”
He gives me that fake grin that gets him whatever he wants, including a Get Out of Jail Free card.
My blood boils as I realize that Chelsea, and even Blake, is right. He won’t pay for what he did. Not ever. Yeah, I could probably turn Rocco in and still get him locked up, even without the videos on his phone, but Blake will go free no matter what.
That’s just how it is.
He offers his hand to help me stand.
“We good, Bro?”
I take his hand.
As he pulls me up, I grab the knife from the tackle box. He doesn’t even notice.
He pulls me up, and I slide the blade into his gut.
“Yeah, we’re good,” I say, driving the knife up into his lungs.
His eyes go wide.
He reaches out for my throat but doesn’t have the strength to mount a defense.
I drive the blade deeper, pushing forward, fueled by rage.
I move closer, eyes now boring into his. I’m so close he can feel my breath on his face as I say, “This is for Chelsea.”
I slide the knife diagonally, spilling Blake’s guts onto the floor of his shiny new boat.
I watch as his body drops.
