Infernal Infantiles
Episode 1: In Hell a word echoes.
"I!!!"- was that word. I. What is I? In the English language, I is the affirmation of the self. In the Spanish Language, ay, which is pronounced the same, is the sound of pain. In the Japanese language, Ai, also pronounced the same, means love. The man who killed himself said that as his last word. He spoke those three languages. His name was Ezekiel Hershel Broflovski. Jewish Canadian descent. Aged 32. All in all, too young to die.
Suicide has become much more common these days. Used to be that you had over half a million suicide cases a year. These days, that number is up to 1.5 million. Their faces only show one of these emotions: sorrow, joy or regret. Not this one. This guy shows clear rage.
He left the TV on. Damn, another one of those anti suicide commercials. "People care about you. So, if you ever feel sad, or lonely, please give us a call at-"- I turn the fricking thing off. Shit, when will those TV guys get it in their heads? Those commercials don't work for shit.
Guy had a clean apartment. For a dive complex as this, this guy had a clean place to live in. His neighbor's apartment smells like roach shit. His other neighbor's smells like old cum. This guy's apartment smells like soap. Damn Jew, why he had to do it? Sure, this neighborhood is a pit, but…
What am I looking for, you ask? A diary, an itinerary, anything. This guy did not have good relations with his neighbors, and the landlord is… fishy, to say the least. Did this guy have any friends, any work colleagues? It's my job to find out why people kill themselves. Damn, a detective that specializes in suicides. This is the world these days.
Bingo. A diary. I open the first page. This is all I could find. I can tell, just by looking at it, that it encompasses at least half the guy's life. Shit. I need to figure out why he offed himself, he gives me a piss poor diary to search for clues as to why. Why don't people just leave goodbye notes? It's easier.
Lieutenant Duncan Steele looks especially interested in this case. I ask him why.
"I knew this guy. From a long time ago, specifically from that old show, TDI,"-he says. TDI, or Total Drama Island, was an old Reality Show where these 22 kids competed for a hundred grand. Quite popular in its day, but the ratings plummeted after a little while. 22 Kids, one of them is a Lieutenant, the other's a corpse. Ironic.
"He was actually the first one to get kicked out. Poor sucker, we kicked him out because he was a sexist,"-says Lt. Steele. Now that is a shocker. I've seen the living quarters of plenty of misogynists. None of them ever smell of soap. First time for all, huh?
I am thinking that maybe, just maybe, he killed himself because he could no longer live with the shame. I quickly disregard that hypothesis. If he did, why did he look so angry? And why did he wait sixteen years to do it?
Before I even tackle this mystery, I need to take a Rorschach.
The first image I am given, I see a dead dog. I tell them it's a bunny. The second I see an atomic blast, I tell them it's a tree. The third I see a couple having sex, I tell them it's a couple dancing. I pass. This is ridiculous. What is the point of any of this?
Suicide detectives have to take constant Rorschach tests so as to ensure they are not slipping. In my line of work, you either become so desensitized by these deaths that you just don't care anymore, or you become so depressed that you become one of the victims. I have had to investigate at least three other detective suicides before. It eventually got easier. Eventually.
I set the diary down, and prepare a cup of coffee. Momma once told me, people that kill themselves always say one last thing before they die. What they say echoes all the way down to Hell, where they hear themselves. I still shudder at the idea. I imagine the guy in Hell, hearing himself yell "I!!!" A bone chilling idea.
It dawns on me. This suicide is different. A suicide's last words are scarcely important. It's always either 'Goodbye!!!' or any variant. This guy said 'I'. What did he mean by that? Why would he yell such a thing? Why would someone who goes through the trouble of making his apartment smell so good in a dive as that? This guy, he's different.
Who were you, Ezekiel? And why did you die? Why do I care? I COULD just rule you out as a psycho, but I can't. You, sir, are different, special in a way. Your diary. Yes, whoever you were is here. It SHOULD be here.
I open it, and read the first page:
The diary of Ezekiel Hershel Broflovski.
Dear Diary:
Bridgette told me to keep a diary, and write in it for the rest of my life. She said it was a good idea, eh? But I don't think I will be able to write everyday like she told me. So instead, I'm just gonna write about the important stuff.
(I sure hope he kept true to his word. This diary has only a handful of entries. I should investigate who this Bridgette is)
Dear Diary:
Today is my first day of school!! I asked mom and dad, and pleaded, and they finally said I could go!!! I am so happy. Today, I hope to make lots of friends. I just hope I don't run into someone like Heather, eh!!
Ah. Something is off here. Why would a 16 year old plead with his parents to actually let him go to school, especially a public school? And who is this Heather?
"See, that kid was home schooled. Matter of fact, we tended to make fun of him for it. Heather? Back then, we would have called her a bitch. But man oh man, compared to what WE'VE seen, she was a saint looking back at it,"- Lt. Steele told me.
Home schooled. Afraid to meet a Libby. This kid must have led a pretty damn sheltered life.
Here's a photo of him from those days. He looks like a sad little cock sucker to me.
How does a shrimpy little home schooled kid like him end up a suicidal? And not just any suicide, but the first one I've seen to be so… haunting. That angered face. He could scare the Devil shitless…
To be continued…