I buried Kellog this morning in an unmarked grave, facing the east.
I woke wretching in the General's office. It is a standard occurrence after an interrogation. It was part of the process of becoming close to human again. As I reconnect with my humanity, the enormity of my actions always seems to hit me in the gut. Some of the men I served with in China drank, others used drugs, but I puked until my guts hurt. I think the difference between us is that I understand and accept what it is I do. I see the necessity. I killed before I ever put on a uniform, out of necessity. The first time I took a life was at the age of 13. So was the second...
I remember her still. Arianna. She found me sleeping on a bench in Boston Commons one night. I was on the streets avoiding another ass beating at home. and, well, it was a well travelled area that had decent lighting. It gave me a sense of security. I remember waking with a jolt when she touched my shoulder. I remember opening my eyes and seeing her crouched down to my level in her red sequin dress. I remember she was pretty. Nice face, red lipstick, black hair, and pale white skin. It took me a second to orient myself. I was still waking up when she told me that I should come with her and sleep on her couch because it was safer. I remember thinking she was my guardian angel. She took me back to her place, handed me a blanket and a pillow and told me to get some rest.
I remember thinking I was in love with her.
I could not have been asleep for more than an hour when I heard her scream. I woke violently and jumped to my feet. I ran to her bedroom and saw her cowering in a ball while a man twice her size was screaming at her, calling her names, and telling her that she worked for him and would do whatever he said, whether she liked it or not. I remember him telling her that he was going to use his bare hands to teach her a lesson.
I remember the pistol sitting on the edge of her dresser near the door.
I picked it up and pointed it a his back and yelled at him to stop hurting her. He turned around screaming at me. His face was full of rage and hate. He started to come at me.
I remember pulling the trigger until the gun stopped firing.
I dropped the gun and started crying. Arianna came to me. She wrapped her arms around me and held me. She thanked me for saving her life and kept repeating the same thing over and over into my ear, finally calming me down.
"You did good... You did good. It is ok.. You did good."
I did good. 4 of the 6 rounds from the pistol struck him in the chest. I did good.
I killed a man. I did good.
I remember no one fucked with Arianna after that.
The police came and took statements from the two of us, and took me home to my parents. Justifiable homicide was what they called it. My father beat the shit out of me for three days straight, while my mother sat in the corner crying, bruised from when he got bored of hitting me.
I remember it was 2a.m. when I woke to the sounds of screaming in the living room. I remember walking into my parent's bedroom and picking up my father's gun. I remember taking it with me as I walked out to the living room. My mother was cowering in a corner. She was bruised and bleeding from where he had been hitting her with the buckled end of his belt. I yelled at him to stop hurting her. He turned to face me with rage and hate in his eyes.
I remember pulling the trigger on the gun four times and watched as each round created a crimson bloom on his filthy white t-shirt. I didn't drop the gun this time. There was blood all over the place... her blood. His blood. I put the gun down and walked to the bathroom to get towels to clean up all the blood. I knew I was going to be taken away. I didn't care that I had killed 2 men in 3 days.
I did good.
I remember the sound of the gunshot from the living room and the confusion I felt. I remember running and finding her laying there with the gun in her hand, barely breathing with a hole in her head. I remember her reaching for me and I remember her last words to me.
"Tell them I did this... Tell them I killed your father. I love you. You are free Cain. You did good."
I remember crying again. I remember the Police kicking in the door. I remember them seeing the bruises on my mother and I, and wrapping me in a towel. I remember them never asking me what happened. My mother was right. I remember the lady Police Detective telling the male Police Detective that it was an obvious case of Murder/Suicide.
"This kid.. and what he has lived through in just the last three days. What does that do to a person?" Her whisper was low, but I heard every word.
I remember understanding.
I did good.
