Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. At all.
WARNING: This chapter and mostly all the chapters following this have certainly blasphemous material. I am not making fun of God or anyone's God or faith. Randy Slade believed he was God, so I must write him that way. I am sorry if this offends anyone.
Chapter 4: Decisions
I am God.
That, I know now, and that sense of accomplishment…and that feeling of being somebody people worship…was magnificent. I'm pretty sure not many people can say that they are God.
I am God.
My "friends" now have all abandoned me, claiming that I was different and that I had changed. They were right. My metamorphosis from a troublesome kid into the greatest entity had certainly been an inspiring change.
I am God.
But, what should I do as God, now? That remains to be the question. I could do anything. But, when so much power and capability is given, what do you do with it? What type of God should I be? There were a few options. I could heal people's physical and mental suffering. I could feed the starving people who hungered for not only food, but also thirsted for kindness, hope, and love. Or, I could help government leaders help unite the world or help lead wars when our country was provoked and attacked.
The Healer.
The Compassionate.
The Avenging Leader.
Which God am I?
I thought and thought and thought about this incredibly thoroughly, as all three types of Gods could serve society and its people well enough. On the weekend, though, I ambled down to an old tree house Adam and I built when we were younger. We don't really hang out there any longer, as it could only fit one of us and not two like before.
Adam.
I hope he's resting well.
To try and relive old memories and to provide a quiet place to think a bit more, I began climbing on the decayed wood, noticing the rusty nails and the peeling paint. It had been such a long time since I've last been here. Finally, I reached the house and clambered inside, sitting down upon the dirty floor.
Besides me, I found old toys Adam and I used to play with…Swords, capes, and toy cars. But, something wasn't right. There was this red car that had never been there before.
You see, when I first met Adam, he had moved in the neighborhood, and my mom had told me to go talk to him and play with him. So, I brought that same exact red car to show him, and met that scrawny kid with glasses nearby.
He was a timid boy back then, and had remarked that he had never had a red car. He had blues and greens, but never red. So, I gave him mine, and that red car has been sitting on his desk in his room ever since.
But, what was it doing here?
I grabbed it, and carefully folded papers were sticking out from the bottom. Slowly pulling them out, I opened them up and smoothed their wrinkles.
And, when I read it, my heart stopped and this unbelievable wave of pain and remembering crashed upon me. They say the written word can have such a profound effect on one's mind and emotions. Now, I would never deny that statement.
Because inside one of those papers was Adam's note.
His thinly cramped and spidery penmanship was unmistakable, and it made sense. The police had never found his note, which had upset his parents, few other friends, and me. At least, wouldn't you want to know why a person had killed himself or herself? Wouldn't it give them a bit of peace or just make it worse?
Nonetheless, with shaking hands grasping the paper, I began to read.
Randy. By the time you even get this…I don't know if it will be in a few days or a few years, I will have already killed myself. I will have been dead for a bit. Dead. It's so hard when you're alive to picture yourself dead isn't it? Anyways, this is my note. And, I am so sorry for leaving you behind, but it's all right. I'm in a better place now, hopefully. I bet you're wondering why I did it. Why I killed myself. (God, it's so hard writing about yourself in past tense when you're still present.) Well, Randy, you know those popular, snobby people you've hung around with and call "friends?" I don't think you noticed, but they have bothered me a lot more than you think or have seen.
Thankfully, you have saved me from most of their physical oppression from them, but you were not able to stop the mental oppression. Bruises, cuts, and scrapes, though there were not many of them thanks to you, can heal. But, the wounds of the mind could never heal when they are cut in so deep.
Bastard. Weakling. Scum. Filth. Dirt bag. These are some of the more….toned down names they called me.
You're too stupid to live. The school should really make a policy about letting in such scum come to school. Why does Randy even hang out with you? I hope that when you come home tonight, you cut yourself, and with ever slash you make on your wrist, remember what we've said to you. Just die. You're not worth it. Just. Die. These were some of the things they told me.
At first, I could take it, you know. Sticks and stones and all of that. But, when you hear something repeated to you for all these long, long years….well…you start believing them even if they aren't true. And when you believe such things…hell is literally on earth and you question everything. The only thing that kept me here for so long was you and my parents.
Otherwise, I would be long gone.
And now I'm gone, and I'm sorry…I'm so, so sorry.
In the end, you will never, ever understand the interminable depths of my gratitude towards you. I owe you so much, I still don't know why we're best friends, and I am incredibly sorry for being such a burden to you. Getting into fights in my stead is painful, I know. And for that, I'm sorry.
And, I'm sorry for the biggest thing I will have done to you.
I'm sorry for killing myself. I just could not take it any more, Randy. I was getting so…so…soo…tired. So tired. Weary.
But now, I am at peace.
I'm sorry, though, old friend. I'm sorry we never got the chance to go to college together…to see each other married to interesting people later…to grow old together…and I am especially sorry that I could not adventure through life with you. I ask, though, that you remember me, and I will be waiting somewhere, whether it be hell or heaven, for you when your time comes. Do something great with your life, Randy. Be somebody that I couldn't be.
I am sorry, and I hope to see you in the future sometime, but it's okay. Just because I've given up doesn't mean you have to later.
I grasped the paper tightly after reading it, as if I was holding on to it for dear life. A certain numbness completely took over my body, shutting down any proper, functional thought.
I…I didn't know what to feel…what to think…
It's only been a few weeks, a month at best, since Adam was gone, and to suddenly relive echoes of his memory and thoughts was so incredibly painful. This pain dug deeper and imbedded itself within me, and soon, I found my eyes wet once again.
How heartbreaking was it to know that even if you tried all you could to stop it, your friend was still being relentlessly and brutally tormented? And exactly how guilty do you think I felt in that moment when he named my friends as his primary oppressors?
I sat there.
I just sat there.
It hurts to remember.
For the longest time, I sat in silence, mourning once again as Adam's death felt fresh in my mind.
Sometimes…I think you can try all you can to protect someone from the cruelty of this world, but still, they get so hurt and banged up inside and outside. The worst part is…you can't do anything about that.
But, there was another piece of paper. The one under his note. What was it? I gently placed Adam's note beside me and began to read his second.
Randy…Just in case you wanted to know which friends were the ones that tortured people like me. If you can, make sure they can't pick on anyone else. I don't want people to end up like me. Depressed and Dead. Here:
Natalie Gallo
Brad Smith
Allison Humwald
Jay O'Brien
Steve Tossell
Tucker Cranwell
Janine Bergen
Jerry Holtz
Tiffany Gleason…
As I scanned the list, watching name after name after name pass by, I couldn't believe it. These were all my friends. Adam had named all my friends.
But how could quiet Natalie be vicious? And how could sympathetic Brad be cruel? How could every single one of my friends be this brutal? Humanity is so flawed…and it has such a dark, beastly side to it… We are given life, but in the end, we would only destroy lives.
Now came my fears…Did this mean that I…was like them? Did I pick on others and laughed in their misery? If my friends did, I must have done so, too. Sickened with myself, my gloominess ceased abruptly and was replaced by the unmistakable feeling of raw wrath and fury.
But, I am God. I can repent for my sins easily. But, my former "friends" need to pay for their sins and what they did to Adam. And, in that space of time, I had already mentally decided what type of God I would be.
I would be the God of Vengeance.
I would avenge Adam with fire and blood and make everyone on that list pay. It was time for the end of the world…the end of time itself, and it was time for my friends to be judged. And, let me assure you, for Adam's sake, none of them were ever reaching the clouds above because if I were judging…well…there would only be one place suitable for them: Hell.
And now, I get it. Adam gave me that list of names. Perhaps he knew or had suspicions that I was God. Now, it was my duty to avenge him by taking out those names…people on that list. It's just the least I could do for him, and I would do absolutely all I can to ensure that this vengeful God would do exactly that.
