The two nurses rushed down the hall. “What’s going on?”
It’s him. That man. Him. Him.
Blaming fingers pointed down the hallway.
The nurses rushed in the direction they pointed, already pulling sedative syringes from their kits.
***
“Fucking look at me, Jason! I know you can fucking see me.”
The mistaken patient sat rocking on the floor, red bald patches on his head from where he had ripped the hair from his scalp.
“Fucking look!”
“One day, and look what you’ve done. Ready?” The nurses nodded at each other. “Get him!” The male nurse swung open the glass door, and as Kenneth rushed from his cell the second nurse grabbed him from behind. “Stop fighting. Calm down.” He eased the needle into Kenneth’s thigh, pressing its liquid into his veins.
“What should we do with him?”
“Let’s put him in solitary confinement.” The orderlies looked around at the sobbing patients. “Obviously he’s not suited for common holding.”
Chapter 4
For the first few nights, images of his former selves plagued his dreams. Each night a ghost of a past life came to visit, retelling the story of its death. Always by the hands of the one who wore the silver lamb necklace. Portraitures of rape, mutilation, and disfigurement were engrained on the inside of his eyelids from the relentless nightmares. The sensation of pain had become all too familiar, had become synonymous with the dreadful words leave and never come back. He was almost certain that if someone were to utter those words in his presence, he’d feel physical pain, wrought by the psychological association he’d formed between them. He’d wake up thrashing in bed, turn over to hug his girlfriend, to hug the night terrors away, and then realize she was not there and that he had killed her. Some mornings he’d awake just to puke in the corner. Other days he’d lie motionless in bed, dreading the moment when the inevitability of weariness conquered his mind yet again. Leave and never come back. He didn’t want to think about it. He just wanted solace, numbness.
Kenneth rolled out of bed and walked to the corner of his tiny cell. He sat cross-legged, staring at the concrete wall. It was the first time since the tall black man, Roy, Gerald, whatever, had told him his true identity that he’d really begun to think about it. Everything happened so quickly. He was too busy suffering to think about his identity.
Seven billion damn people and I’m the one.
He was right.
I’m the next incarnation of Buddha.
Who do I trust?
Those dreams. They’ve been killing me over and over again for centuries.
What do I do?
Are they still after me?
Fuck. I’m not even fucking Buddhist. I haven’t meditated a day in my life.
I’m reaching Enlightenment. How do I know when I’m there?
Signs?
Am I supposed to save the world? I can’t save it if I’m not yet enlightened myself.
I just fucking committed murder. Off to a shitty start.
Seven billion damn people and I’m the one.
Why me?
He sat and thought. For hours he sat and thought. The barred shadows of his window arched across the room as the day wore on. Midday. A nurse cracked open the door and slid an aluminum tray across the floor. “Your meal.” The green beans, chicken nuggets, and mashed potatoes sat on the tray. Almost as motionless as Kenneth. The heat dissipated into the air.
Kenneth sat and thought, waiting for something to come. But nothing came. The day changed to night and Kenneth still sat in the same position, waiting. He grew weary, his head rested against the wall, and eventually sleep sneaked inside him, waiting for something to come. But nothing came. And for the first night in a while, no dreams came either.
***
He woke with the odd sensation of a fretless night. “Babe?” He patted to his side, expecting the tender flesh of his girlfriend’s skin but felt nothing. He forgot she was dead. He forgot he had killed her. He forgot he hated her. And he then realized waking up alone in his cell was the same as waking up at home beside her.
For the time being he felt a sort of happiness. Though imprisoned in his small ten by ten cell, the mere absence of his night terrors was enough to bring joy. But after a while, the feeling began to dull. Just like everything else. He’d live boring days and sleep dreamless nights. And his life became so mundane that he fell into a deep depression. He no longer had a purpose. Even if he did, he was trapped. An empty feeling inside him. His body was absent.
He had time he never knew he had. Time became his friend and enemy. Lots of it was spent thinking of Jason. Their sessions together throughout the year, the laughs they shared, but inevitably, day after day, his mind wandered to their last meeting. The poor child put his soul on the table, declared his love, his dependence, and Kenneth was gone the next day. Usually the nightmares kept thoughts of reality at bay, but with their absence, Jason’s image presented itself evermore. There was never an hour where Kenneth did not think about the kid. It became haunting in a way. The sense of betrayal tore heavily at his heart, until there eventually came a time when he hated being awake and longed for sleep. His failure became a living nightmare, a constant reminder of his now meaningless, unfulfilled existence.
The weeks bore on. Restlessness hung on his every limb. Thoughts of death crept into his brain, and he began to curse every rounded edge of the room and high ceilings, anything he could use as an instrument for his own death. For a time he thought he may waste away, perish not by any physical harm but by the shear desire of wanting an end. Sitting in the corner, waiting for the end.
But then a lawyer saved him. And for the first time in a month he was graced with the presence of a fellow human being. Each day the lawyer would visit and they would converse for a few hours, and then he would leave. Those few hours became the only thing worth living for.
He tried explaining his entire situation to the lawyer. That he was the next Buddha, that he was becoming enlightened, that he had a mission to enlighten the world. But of course the lawyer never believed him. In fact, his ranting seemed to support the case he was trying to build. “You will plead insanity at the time of the crime,” the lawyer always said. And he had said it so many times that Kenneth began to believe it was true, that he was indeed crazy.
“That’s our case,” the lawyer said, “and we’re sticking with it.” He stood up and adjusted his tie. “See you in a few months.”
The next day when the lawyer did not return, Kenneth cried. And he finally understood what Jason felt. Like his friendship was led on. Like he was betrayed. And at this very moment, though his eyes were shrouded with tears, he saw, with clarity, himself for the first time. When the lawyer left, he took part of Kenneth with him.
After Kenneth detached himself from his ordinary life, from Jason, the center of his personal universe, he consequently detached himself from whatever path to self-discovery he may have been on. That is why the dreams had since faded. He was no longer remembering his past lives. The Buddha within him died, without anyone physically killing it. Kenneth had severed it through his own choices.
Kenneth wiped the tears from his eyes and crawled to the corner of his cell, cradling his knees to his chest. This was his new existence.
***
Kenneth sat staring into the corner. The door behind him opened. He waited for the aluminum tray with bland food to slide across the floor, just as it had every day for the past three months. Instead, the nurse walked in.
“Hey. Put this on.” He tossed a suit onto the bed. “Your lawyer sent it to you. Your trial is in an hour.”
A nurse on either side, they gripped Kenneth’s triceps and led him to the elevator at the end of the hall. He was giddy with the thought of leaving this place. As the elevator descended, the length of time between each ding, signaling a new floor, grew exponentially.
When at last they reached ground floor, a nurse turned a key in
the elevator control pad to open the doors. With only his first step, a sudden realization of where he has been overpowered him. The white walls. The tiled flooring.
“Hey, Kenneth. Never took you as the murderous type.” The same obese receptionist sat behind her desk. “All that time you spent volunteering, now it looks like you’re the one who needs help.” She chuckled, her neck fat rolling as she reached for the Big Gulp on the counter.
Kenneth ignored her. His eyes wide, he took in the familiar place. This entire time, only a couple of floors from what he once knew.
“Are we leaving now?”
“The car isn’t here yet,” the nurse said, looking through the window in the lobby at the parking lot. “Five minutes, tops.”
“Then can I visit an old friend? I know which room he’s in. I just want to say hello.”
The two nurses looked at each other. “I’m not sure we’re allowed,” one said after a pause.
The receptionist chimed in. “I know the kid. Let him go. He used to volunteer here. It should be fine.”
The taller of the two nurses gripped him tight by the arm, reeling Kenneth around. “Fine. Make it quick. And we’re going with you. Don’t try anything stupid.”
***
“Jason?” Kenneth called into the room.
Jason took a while to respond. Maybe he was sleeping. Or maybe he didn’t believe he actually heard that familiar voice. Two claps.
Kenneth crept into the room. He didn’t want to startle the boy.
The nurses stood by his side, making sure he wasn’t attempting an escape. But Kenneth truly wanted to see his old friend, to talk to him, to apologize.
“Hey, remember me?”
No answer.
“I know you’re angry. And I just want to say I’m sorry.”
Still no answer. Just a blank stare. The brakes in his wheelchair were pulled up, his arms folded. No intention to move. No attempt to greet his old pal.
Kenneth’s cheeks turned red. The nurses were clearly doubting he even knew Jason. Kenneth needed to fill the silence before he was dragged out of the room by the nurses. “I’m not sure what stories you have heard about me, but I want you to know that I still care about you. You’re my friend. I thought about you a lot.”
Jason pressed his palms into the armrests, balancing himself as he struggled to stand. His knees were shaky, and he looked as if he could topple over at any second.
Kenneth took a few steps forward to help, but Jason stood up quickly and raised an open hand, halting him.
“Do you forgive me, Jason?” Kenneth’s voice wavered, sounding pitiful.
With the patience of a sage, Jason raised an arm, his fingers curling inward, revealing a lone index finger pointing toward the door from which Kenneth had entered. “I don’t know why you left me, and I don’t want to hear you make excuses. All I know is the mockery they made of you on the news. That you thought you were The Buddha. That you sought enlightenment for the world. But you snapped and killed lots of people instead. Let me tell you first, if you hadn’t figured it out for yourself, you were wrong. You promised me companionship and you broke that promise. Maybe this little retard right here, sitting in front of you, is what you’ve been looking for all along. That you could learn everything you’ve ever wanted from a person who couldn’t even speak. Have you ever thought of that? Have you ever even considered that? Or did you become obsessed with some other destiny? That obsession blinded you, which is why you went fucking psycho. You had tunnel vision. Whatever you wanted you thought you could achieve with a straight and singular path. But you were wrong. You forgot about the world the path set through. And like a fool, I waited for you to return. That was one of the worst mistakes I’ve ever made, aside from spray painting that wall.” He kept his outstretched arm, index finger, once pointed, was snarled into a nasty hook. “Leave. And never return.” His voice was strong, dominating, unmerciful. It was the first time Kenneth had ever heard him speak with his voice, not his hands.
It couldn’t end like this. Kenneth couldn’t follow that command. He couldn’t passively obey that order just as he had passively watched Jason get beaten. So he spoke up. “I feel somewhat responsible for your brain damage. I never knew the right time to tell you this, but I guess we’ve known each other long enough.” Kenneth looked at the ceiling, thinking of what to say next, as if the words were written up there.
The two nurses took Kenneth by the shoulders and led him backward, Jason pointing the way. The old friends held eye contact as Kenneth was dragged away, Jason’s eyes receding into unforgiving squints, Kenneth’s eyes watery with the tinge of the forlorn.
“The day you were jumped by those cops, I was there. I saw them knock you over and continue to beat you even though you were down.”
The nurses kept dragging him away, and as they pulled him farther, Kenneth yelled the rest of his apology. “But I was too scared to do anything. I couldn’t stop them. So I stood and watched. When I found out you landed in here, I took it upon myself to try and make your life happier. As some form of repayment. I hope you can forgive me. I’m so sorry.”
As the nurses carried him away, Kenneth took in the last he would ever see of Jason, the one person he truly loved. He took in the final sight of the ward where he had spent so much time. The smooth flooring with missing tiles. The bleak white walls, empty as the minds of the people they enclosed.
***
The drive to the courthouse was a one-way conversation. The lawyer sat beside Kenneth, reminding him what to say, what to plea, the details of his case—that he was legally insane at the time of the crime—but Kenneth said not a word. He silently stared out the window, watching the city roll by. Every pedestrian, every driver, and every passenger he saw sitting in other cars bore the face of Jason. Kenneth closed his eyes and pretended to sleep the rest of the way. He knew why the dreams had stopped. He knew what he had become. He knew why Jason had no desire to see him. He knew that with the knowledge of his differences, his insight, his concern, his enlightenment he was simultaneously ignorant. He knew he had already died yet lived on, trapped within the shell that is skin and organs and flesh. He was not the next incarnate, not anymore, not since he let the pressure of the world’s burdens collapse on him. He snapped; he reached his edge, his limit. He killed people. And with that, he had killed himself. He knew everything yet knew nothing.
***
“Please be seated,” the judge said, walking up to his seat. “All persons are innocent until proven guilty. You have the options to plead guilty, not guilty, or no contest. You have the right to obtain counsel. If you cannot afford an attorney the court will appoint an attorney for you.” His words were monotonous. He had said that same statement hundreds of times on hundreds of different days. Though it was nine a.m., and his first case of the day, he was obviously not happy to be there. “Please come forward.”
Kenneth watched his opponent step to the stand. He didn’t recognize him or the people sitting at the table.
The judge addressed the plaintiff. The bailiff swore him in.
Kenneth walked to his stand afterward. Then, after the judge swore him in, he said to the courtroom, “We are here today to try the case regarding the murders of Jennifer Constantine, Shawn More, Officer Joshua Sanchez, and Officer Frances Ratzinger, with a maximum consequence of death.”
Kenneth carefully listened to his charges. The only name he recognized was his girlfriend, Jennifer. Shawn must have been the graffiti artist. Kenneth knew for a fact that he did not kill him. Officer Sanchez was the one who beat Shawn. Kenneth knew also that his hit with the baton could not nearly have killed that cop. Officer Ratzinger. That must be the old black man, his hunter. He finally had a name. Everyone in the courtroom could smell the pungent foul-play, but no one risked addressing it
“And I have to take the blame for all of this?” Kenneth whispered to himself.
“Shhhhh.” Kenneth turned his head to see his lawyer’s glance of disapproval.
“Mr. Kenneth Hatta, how do you plead?”
Kenneth adjusted his weight from the balls of his feet to his heels and back again, rocking to and fro. He thought about Jason, who no longer loved him. He thought of the world that seemed to reject his very being. He was refuse, blowing in the wind with all the other garbage littered throughout the world.
Kenneth cleared his throat. “I plead guilty.”
The lawyer shot out of his seat. “No, no, no, no. No, no, no. He does not mean that. We’ve been over this.”
“Sit down, please,” the judge said, raising his gavel. “Sit down, now.”
Kenneth turned and growled at his lawyer. The lawyer slumped back into his seat, his face reddening, Kenneth watching him until he was fully settled into his chair.
He looked up at the people in the crowd, then his opponents, and then back at the judge. “I plead guilty. I’m guilty of destroying myself when I thought I was destroying the enemy. I’m guilty because I sought too hard for something that I never knew I already had. We all have it, and none of us see it. We’re all guilty of the same thing. I’m just the one who dies for it.”
The judge raised his gavel but hesitated. “The crimes. No sweet talk. Are you guilty of the crimes?”
Kenneth felt his words carried no weight. He sighed. “Yes. I plead guilty to the crimes.”
The judge slammed the gavel on the wooden pad on his desk. The polished scale, held by the bronze statuette of Lady Justice on the judge’s desk, rocked gently.
***
The light was bright. His body illuminated for the families of the victims. Tight leather bands restrained him. He saw Jennifer’s parents. He saw his own father, his disappointment. He saw crying faces, angered faces, all people dressed in black. The needles were already in his veins, connected to tubes, now empty, soon to be filled with his cause of death.
Something Terrible Page 14
