Happy

                “Hey you little freak, maybe you should watch where you’re going!” is all I heard before I was shoved face first against a cold, dirty locker. This was from Brad, my main tormenter. His henchmen stood behind him, large, twisted, sickening grins on their ugly faces.

                “Sorry…” is all I could say in the small space of time between the shove and the first painful punch of a beating that would make my body numb.

                “Oh, poor little baby Gabriel is bleeding, boys,” laughed Brad. With a menacing fire in his eyes he turned back to me and growled out, “Why don’t we take care of that for you?”

                As I was dragged towards the gym to be thrown in the showers, I still had enough control to not whimper or show pain. Showing pain is unacceptable. Showing pain is how good men die. That’s what my father always says when he looks at my bruises.

                I guess this ‘no-pain’ thing pissed off Brad even more, because as I was dropped on the hard tile floor, the instructions were given to “Kick. Kick as hard as you want and anywhere you want.” I couldn’t help but whimper now as six muscular feet were repeatedly jammed into my ribcage. The henchmen were finally satisfied, and I was left alone. Slowly, I stood up.

                The air outside was colder than usual, a sign we’d be getting rain in our small town. I pulled my jacket around me tight as I walked up the broken steps of the front porch, and entered the disaster of a place I call home. The trash and beer bottles lay around my passed out father like a shrine. King of Trash. It fits him.

                I pause and stare at my father’s fat, unshaved face. He whined out the name of a woman he didn’t deserve, mumbling so much it just sounds like a gurgle.

“…nnnnna…..nnn…”  I wonder how the death of my mother could affect him this way. It’s not like he actually loved her or anything. Or maybe he did. He sure as hell had no problem hurting her.

                I walk up the grimy steps, sticky from the neglect of cleaning for the past year. I enter my room, and my mood changes. I’m no longer level headed, thoughtful and calm. Now, I am mad. Seething. I’m tired of following their rules. I want to hurt them, those people who dare to touch me like they did.

                “And we know exactly how to help.”

I jumped and turned around. There was no one there, but I swear I heard that crystalline voice that I’ve dreamt of so many times before.

“Oh, you did my little angel. But you know you can’t see us until you do us a favor.”

“What? Where are you? Who are you? What do you mean ‘us’?” I asked, looking around, a wave of panic flashing over me.

“You know everything you just asked. Now go to your bathroom and wash it all away.”

“Yeah…that’s what I need to do…” In a daze I walked to my private bathroom. I go to open the medicine cabinet, but stare at myself in the mirror for a while instead. I take in my messy hair, my unnaturally green eyes, the pale skin, the dazed expression on my face. I look so much like my beautiful mother…it just had to be ruined by the genes of that bastard downstairs.

I open the cabinet and pull down my pills. The doctors claimed they would help but nothing has changed. I’m still a freak, and I still see things I shouldn’t. I still know things I’ve never been told. I still panic for no reason at the slight creaking of old wooden steps, and the hushed whine of door hinges. I’m still afraid of secrets that haven’t been spoken.

As I tap each tiny, round pill into the toilet, I think of an old rhyme that I can’t remember learning, but feel like I know by heart. It feels like that voice of air is forcing that song back into my head, making it fill with static.

“Crooked little people,

All dressed up for fun.

Crooked little people,

Shot dead with a gun.

Crooked little people,

Now forever dead.

Crooked little people,

Shot twice in the head.”

I realize I’ve been saying this aloud. I look at my hands and my knuckles are white, small patches of blood pooling in my palms, and I stare at the tiny incisions made by my finger nails. I wash my hands off and again glance at myself in the mirror. And I see Anna standing behind me, her angelic face beaming.

My body goes numb as she walks toward me, and from the first gentle touch of her hand to my face I am filled with the feelings of drowning. Everything floods in to me, all the information we collected, every memory of days spent inside, talking to people who only I knew, people who actually cared about me. These are my friends, and they are back for me. Anna and Jacob have returned for me.

Jacob walks in behind Anna and smiles, and I run to his outstretched arms. I am so ecstatic I can barely breathe. Soft curls of golden hair bunch around his angelic and fragile looking face, the only uninviting feature being his eyes. They both have the same eyes, Anna and Jacob. They are cold and reptilian, but I am used to this. The hard yellow melts like molten metal when they look at me. To them, I am a friend. Not like the rest of these pathetic sacks of flesh walking upon this earth. They control them, you know. They follow us poor humans around, letting out our deepest and darkest fears, forever chaining us to paranoia, pain, and death. And now, I will also do this. I will ascend to my highest dreams.

“Do you understand now?” whispered Anna, running her hand through my hair. “Do you know what you need to do?”

My eyes well up with tears. I’m still so glad they’re here. “Yes,” I say, with a hint of fear in my voice. “They all need to die.”

“Yes, yes my little angel,” cooed Anna into my ear. “That is exactly what must happen.”

“But you’re only halfway to the solution in your head,” chimed Jacob with his deep, gruff voice, the first I’ve heard him speak in years. He tapped his finger against his temple lightly, nodding in my direction. “You know what needs to happen. Then, and only then, will you be completely rid of your problems from this world. Nothing will bother you again, but you need to pull that trigger just one more time. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes,” I said, surprised I could even speak. “I need to…I need to go to make the problems go…” I say, as I let out a sob and gasp for air.

“Exactly.”

Jacob didn’t speak again. He never did speak often. Anna always said what needed to be said.

“Why don’t you get some rest, sweet little angel?” prodded Anna. “You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow.”

“Ok…” I whispered in a daze, and I slowly walked to my bed. I let the sheets wrap around me, and I fell asleep to a dreamless night.

~~~___~~~___~~~___~~~___~~~___~~~___~~~___~~~___~~~___~~~___~~~___~~~___

            The sun forces me to open my eyes, and on this new day, I feel something different in me. I am new…I am strong. I can do this. I unravel from my cocoon of blankets, and again walk to my bathroom. Anna and Jacob are standing there again. Jacob gives a small nod, his eyes hard and cold again. Anna smiles encouragingly.

            “You can do it, sweetie. You can do anything you want.”

            “I know,” I say, with a sense of realization. “I can do anything…”

            I look behind me to the mirror, and stare at myself again. I think of my mother, and the few tears still left unshed for her slide down my cheeks. I miss her. Soon though, I will see her again. I hope she’ll be proud of me.

            I undress and step in to the hot water of my morning shower. The steaming liquid runs down my body, relaxing the muscles in my back, leaving a delicious burn against my bruises, infusing my very soul with lightning before it gets ripped away from me, preparing me for a full day of showing off the presence of someone else in my body. I am no longer the little baby Gabriel. I am an angel, an angel of life, and of death. I can take and give as I please. I can do whatever I want. When I step out of the shower, I look again to the mirror. I pick up a marker lying on the floor. It’s red. I draw one, singular, line across my neck. I can do whatever I want.

            On my way out of this disgusting house, I stop one last time to look at my father. His fat, horrible body is pressed into the couch. He hasn’t moved since I came in yesterday. I will not miss him. I turn and walk to the large gun case, one of the things my father prides himself on. He used to be a big hunter. He hasn’t touched any of the guns since she died. The lock is broken, and the doors swing open. I take down the lightest and smallest gun, and fill my backpack with cases of bullets.

            It’s raining outside, and I pull my jacket close to my body. I walk to school, and no one bothers me on the way. They know I’m different. This pleases me, and when I walk in the school, I have a large smile on my face.

            “What the hell are you smiling about?” demands Brad, and I just ignore him and walk away. “Hey! I’m talking to you!” He reaches out and grabs my shoulder. I stop dead in my tracks. I turn my head slightly, look at his hand, swivel my eyes to him, and then back to his hand. With a growing, sickening smile on my face, I start laughing a little. Brad looks confused, and this makes me even more encouraged. I lunge with a force I didn’t know I had, and sink my teeth into his sweaty hand, tasting the salty metal of his blood.

            I turn and continue walking, pleased at the terrified screams coming from Brad. I walk to homeroom, amused and with a new feeling of confidence I never knew existed washing over me. My little friend made of steel and intentions of horror, hiding in my bag for now, makes everything ok.

            In homeroom, everyone stays away from me. I guess they heard about what I did to Brad. Good, let them be scared. They should be. Everyone should be scared of me. The bell rings and a flood of people rush around me in the hallway, young adults who act like children, scurrying off to class at the scheduled time, just like every other day. I take my time walking, though, today. I stride on into first period English, late, just as I planned, and the glare from Mrs. Mander makes me smile. Then I see Brad sitting in the back of the class, huddled over his hand, two of his henchmen sitting on either side, and when he sees me he jumps. I’m glad something is finally getting to him. The phone rings, the sharp whine ripping into my head. This is the first time anything has phased me today…but that ringing…that bitch won’t pick up the stupid phone, and I slam my fist down on the desk and let out a pained grunt just as she picks it up. Mrs. Mander stares at me, as does the rest of the class, and I just stare back.

            “Is everything ok?” asks Mrs. Mander as she puts down the receiver, a scared look on her face.

            Now seems just as good a time as any, so I stand up slowly, grinning ear to ear, trying to mask the nervous fluttering in my stomach and the pounding in my head.

            “Well,” I say, reaching down to my bag, unzipping it and pulling out my little treasure. “I think all of you, need to get your views straight.”

            I feel complete control again as everyone in the room goes silent, and I can feel the fear coming off of them. One of the girls starts crying, and I’m pleased I can get a reaction so quickly. I turn towards the front of the room, just to see the face on Mrs. Mander, and notice a blur go across the room. I turn to my side, the direction the blur went, and I see both Anna and Jacob, the lithe and slender bodies leaning against the window.

            “Well, it sure looks like you took things into your own hands rather quickly, darling,” says Anna, grinning a little half smile, the one I remember her wearing when she was truly happy and at ease.

            “Well, someone had to,” I say, still facing my friends. I can hear a panicked murmur amongst my captives, and I turn around, yelling “WHO SAID YOU COULD TALK?”

            Everything goes silent, and I continue my conversation. “I think I’m ready for it, don’t you think Anna? Jacob?”

            Both of them nod, smiling, and I grin once more, and then turn back to the room. They are all staring at me, and now I can smell the fear coming off of their bodies, and I’ve never had the pleasure of knowing a fragrance so delicious. I look around at the scared and confused faces, and I love it. I walk towards Brad and his minions, as it seems fitting to torture those who tortured me first. He flinches as I get close, and I feel even more empowered.

            “Well, well, well, isn’t it little old Brad. How’s your hand?” I ask in the sweetest voice I can manage, and he jerks his hand behind him, as if he thinks I’d bite him again. “Oh, Brad, please. It didn’t taste good the first time, it won’t if I do it again. Besides, I think one of these lovely ladies would taste much, much better…..” I say, staring with the eyes of a predator at a group of the popular, bleach blonde cheerleaders, and I lick my lips. I don’t move towards them, but I can tell I’ve shaken them, and I smile even more.

            “So, Brad, I have a question. Why do you think you’re so high and mighty compared to me? No, no, really, I want to know. Because for the past eight years, you have made it your main goal to make my life a living hell, and I want to know why.” He whimpers, and I move closer to him, jamming the gun to his face. “Well? WELL? Did you think you were better than me? Stronger than me? Braver than me? Well I’ll tell you this, you will never be better or stronger or braver than me. Because you know what? I’m not the one crying like a baby in front of every petty little person that used to admire you. I am better than that. I can do anything, and I will do anything.” I push the gun harder into Brad’s jaw, and he starts crying.

            “Oh my god….oh my god…why…..help….oh my god…” he cries, tears and snot running down his face, making the already ugly even more disgusting.

            “God?” I chuckle sinisterly, pleased this came up so soon. “GOD? You want to talk about God? Here, let me explain this to you so understand it better. There is no God that will help you. You want to know why? Because I am God. I. AM. GOD. I have all the power, and I can do anything. I can kill you right now, and you know what? I think I will.”

            I pull the trigger. Life seems to slow down right then as I take in this glorious scene. Everyone is screaming, and the sound is like the most beautiful music to my ears. I watch the bullet enter Brad’s skull, and I hear the crack as it goes through bone. Blood starts to spray out the back of his head, a bright red fountain flowing out and painting the wall and people behind him the wonderful color of life.

            I hear laughing, and I turn back to see Anna dancing around, throwing her arms in the air, and Jacob clapping his hands together.

            “Well done my dear little angel, well done! Now, why don’t you continue the show for us?”

            “Oh, I’d love to continue! Anything for you, Anna…anything for you…”

            “OH MY GOD!” scream out multiple captives, and I hear pleading for their lives, but I don’t care. Why should I?

            “Didn’t I tell you all? There is. No. God. I AM GOD! Now bow down before ME! Worship ME! Pray to ME! Because I am the only one who gives a damn about your life right now, and really, I don’t want any of you to live. So. Who should I start with? Hmm….let’s play a little game.”

          Just to keep up the suspense, I decide to reload my gun, a fresh round of bullets for a fresh round of blood. I cover my eyes with one hand, and point the gun out in to the room with my other arm. I spin around in a circle, and stop, ending up facing the front of the room. Mrs. Mander is in front of me. I pull the trigger without hesitating, and another glorious spray of red covers those standing nearby. I turn again, and shoot. And again, and again, and again. Five people dead now, and it feels so good. This power invigorates me, adrenaline rushing through my veins. This is truly the best high in the world, all those other drugs paling in comparison. Nothing could be better than this.

            “Oh, angel, this is amazing!” I hear Anna gushing, and when I turn around again, she is standing over a group of bodies, smearing the blood along her scaled skin. She smiles in ecstasy as she licks her fingers, and opens her eyes to stare at Jacob.

            Jacob is bent over a different body, staring at her eyes. He reaches down, and sticks two fingers into each eye socket, popping out the round beauties. I blink hard, and Anna and Jacob have disappeared. I know what I need to do…

            Just as Anna, I go over to the people she was standing over. I reach down and wipe up some blood. I stare at it, and move my hand closer to my mouth. The rich taste intoxicates me, the salt and iron flavor melting in my mouth. I take two fingers, dip them in the blood, and mark myself as a warrior of Heaven. The remaining people I have chosen to leave alive are screaming again, and I walk over to Jacobs chosen body. Like him, I stare into the bright blue lakes she has for eyes, and shove two fingers into each eye socket, dragging each miniature globe out. More screaming is heard, and this time it’s really annoying. I lift up my gun again, and shoot, silencing the room once again.

            I know people are outside. I can see the cars and flashing lights out the window, but they can’t see me. But now, I am ready. I know what I need to do. I know that to truly be rid of problems, I need to be rid of life. My life needs to be gone. I put one lovely blue eye into my pocket, and walk towards the large windows. I step up on to a desk, so the crowd outside has a perfect view. I stare out the window, and then stare at the eyeball still in my hand. I kiss it, and put it with its twin.

            I can hear Anna and Jacob, but I know they’re no longer in the room. They’re waiting for me, just like my mother. I can’t wait to see her again…I need to see her…if I don’t, this will have been for nothing. This was all for her. Everything was for her. Now I wish to see the world through new eyes, and feel with the fingertips of gods.

            I look around at the beautiful work of art that I have created, the masses of flesh stuck together with the sweet blood of life, and I smile, one last time. I am happy. I am finally happy.

            I again face the crowd outside, and lift the gun to my own head. I rest my finger on the trigger, and let out a shaking sigh of relief. Tears run down my cheeks, and my smile is the largest it’s ever been. I am happy. I am finally happy.

            I pull the trigger, one last time.