Prologue….
She was flawless.
We were sitting in the kitchen that fateful evening when my girlfriend, Yang Xiao Long, decided to make our classmate Penny Polendina our target. I remembered that day because it fell on the weekend of my parents' wedding anniversary. We were eating pizza from her sister's job. Ruby left us alone to spend the evening to hang out with my sister, my sister's girlfriend, and a few of their friends. Their parents were not home. They never were. It made me think that Yang and Ruby were raising themselves. They say that parents are the biggest influence on the foundation of their children. They are the stepping stones for their success in the future.
I can't speak for them, but if they understand, then why in the hell was Yang sliding the picture of our target to use with one hand and eating a deep dish pizza with another? They don't know that those around them are the ones who give them the influence to go where they want to go. Excuse me about the tangent, but it is best to understand what I am explaining to you. Friends see them more often than parents. Parents supposed to make time with their kids, but they don't. Their absentee love is compensated through gifts. As long they continued giving these gifts to their kids, then the less guilt that is sustained. Parents must know that love is absorbed through affection and time and not by materialistic things that falters likes a child's desire for their parents.
A puppy weaned too soon from an angry mother. If that mother would have given that puppy a little more milk, then probably they wouldn't end up like that. I believed if her parents spent more time with her, then we wouldn't be in the kitchen preparing for a murder. We wouldn't be in the kitchen plotting. We wouldn't be in the kitchen gathering details on how we were going to achieve our target; gathering the materials.
We could've been planning to watch a movie. Or play video games. Or go to the arcade. But, no, we were sitting here preparing another child's farewell.
I wondered where was Penny right now as I was sitting there. Maybe at home watching a movie. Maybe out for ice cream. Maybe confined in the warmth and love of her parents.
Because love didn't exist in this household. There was something in the air.
It was the stench of hate.
Oh, I am sorry, I didn't explain about this 'we.' It was me, Yang, and Blake Belladonna, our best friend. We were the unholy trinity. Better yet, I was the pitiful wretch who felt pressured to join. Who felt nudged to join. Who felt coerced, bullied, threatened, persuaded, cajoled. Whatever verb you choose, I will leave it up to you.
She was flawless.
It was the reason why she picked such a target. She wanted to find someone that was going to leave a mark on the village. She didn't want just any victim. What she was looking for was someone who served as a poster child. An all-around person who displayed civic qualities of a human being. A person of distinguishable, admirable traits. A person who exhibits strong leadership and character. A person that receives love, praise, and have the guile of just being an awesome wonder.
A type who she loathes the most.
The twitch in her eye exhibited such behavior for the despised. She tapped the picture so many times that it was eventually becoming smudged. Oum, forbid if I asked her on what other candidates were she looking at. She made up her mind on the decision. She told us that she wanted it done within a few weeks.
The weeks following the murder, I sat there while Blake and Yang collaborated with techniques. They read magazines like Soldiers of Fortune, Gun World, and Recoil. Every weekend was spent at each other's houses. We spent hours on the computer looking at videos ranging from how to use a gun to how to make lethal stab wounds. Watching school shooting videos like Columbine, Virginia Tech, and the University of Texas. Blake further delved into it by purchasing the DSM-IV book on case studies. She was studying on how to commit a crime and run away clean. Yang entered the void by reading radical stories like The Turner Diaries, Hitmen, and Hunter. Each book was worse than the other as each provided sinister roles on murder, tyranny, and overall hate. In the late night hour, we were on blogs with other people who had the same idea on murder.
On one blog, Yang was posting stories on how she thought about getting fertilizer and fuel to blow up Penny. Sort of robust, if you ask me. I mean all of that for one girl?
Blake wanted to purchase a gun through the black market and shoot her.
Yang mentioned that she wanted to kidnap her and hold her hostage while torturing her; demanding money for ransom before killing her. Blake continued the ante by saying how much she wanted to knife her. My role was very limited. I just watched. However, I still played the biggest role in the matter.
And that was not warning anybody of the crime.
After a week or so, Yang came over to my house. She waited until we were behind closed doors to tell me what she planned. She explained that she wanted something original. Something that was creative in terms of murder.
She wanted it to be, in her words, quite a shocker.
The "shock device" idea came from a blog she read. She saw how effective it could be based on how high the voltage was. With much thought, she informed Blake about it. Funny thing that they really didn't include me in the plans.
To this very day, I still believe I served more as a material witness.
However, I still played the biggest role in the matter. I didn't warn anybody of the crime.
She went through some back channels before finding the right device for her plans. She had to wait a few days, but it was worth the wait according to her. Her eyes were wide as saucers. She was excited like sparklers exploded on the fourth of July. As a celebratory offering, she and I engaged in sex. It didn't matter that the door was partially ajar as she held me down while we were "making love." While she was ravishing me, I kept one eye on the door. Because I felt someone was watching me.
Excuse me, watching us.
A few days later, Blake called me to meet her and Yang. We didn't discuss any matters on the phone. When I got with them, Yang also surprised us with Penny's parting gift. Blake became excited because she, too, got the burn phones for what we called " the plan of action." Both acted like schoolgirls like this was a project that guaranteed them a passing grade.
A tragedy I concluded to myself.
Amazing how your brain can trick you. You create a memory by creating false memories. You try convincing yourself on what is true and what is not. I know I have explained that day Yang displayed this device to me for Penny's demise. I have lied. Yet again, I didn't. I couldn't accept. I couldn't accept that I was acutely aware of what she was planning. And I didn't do a damn thing to stop it.
I may have a limited role, but in the Christian bible so did Peter when he denied the name of Jesus. I was giving a handful of warnings. Not once, not twice, three. The number itself nudged my spirit. It beckoned, whispering to me. It was alerting me to stop. It wasn't too late. Save a life. Save a life, it kept telling me. I denied. I have denied like I have turned my back on the Lord. In the Bible, it states if you deny me in front of a man, then I will deny you in front of my father.
Depart from me for I have never known you.
Here is my story. Please don't judge me for what I am about to do. But, if you do, just think about this. What would you do protect the ones you love? Are you loyal, devoted, faithful? Can you make them happy? Can you keep their secrets? Well, I will explain and let this story be the living testament of my transgressions.
For by the time this story ends, one of us is going to be dead.