Redivivus
Disclaimer - I do not own 'Holes', it belongs to Louis Sachar.
Summary – Seventeen year old Squid makes a transition from juvenile delinquent into murderer, and only the sister of the victim can give him the chance of redemption.
Warning! – Mild swearing.
Author's Note – Squid seems really horrid in this chapter, but I promise he will get better. Sorry that there's not much going on at the moment, but I'm still setting down the plot.
Horsesareamazing – Heaps of thanks for the review! I really wanted to be different with this story; I hope it hasn't been done before. Hope you read on.
Chapter Two
"Closure"
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"But isn't it true that you didn't even know David, Alan?" Squid looked up at the large camera pointed at his face and cocked an eyebrow smugly.
"It's Squid, and no, I didn't know him in the casual sense," he replied his eyes boring into the man sitting opposite him, parted by glass. The man was quite a bit older than Squid, probably in his late thirties but was lean with a clean shaven face and classic handsome features, which contorted in confusion as Squid spoke. The camera wasn't focused on the handsome interviewer, but only on Squid as he sat leaning lazily tilting his chair on its hind legs.
"What do you mean by 'casual sense', uh…'Squid' ?" Squid's attention was drawn directly into the camera and a slight smirk played on his lips. The interviewer seemed slightly sickened by this but nevertheless waited for his reply.
"David Deyell, wasn't this fucking 'wonder-boy' that you've got him all tagged as. David Deyell was a crack-addicted suck-up who drank his way through high-school and got by with his football skills," Squid began in a low tone "David Deyell was a fake and a phoney who played almost everybody, and to be quite honest I can't actually believe I am getting punished for getting rid of that piece of shit. Just because he died, doesn't mean that he was a good person, it doesn't make him a saint," Squid spat, drawing his face away from the camera and titling back on his chair once again. The lean man opposite narrowed his eyes and shook his head gently from side to side in what seemed like disbelief.
"David Deyell hadn't just 'died' though had he Squid," He spoke Squid's name with pure revulsion, and his handsome features were now etched in dislike, staring at Squid with a heavy glare. "David Deyell was murdered, brutally and cruelly," he finished. Squid looked up at the man opposite with a blank expression then smirked.
"Perfect for the brutal and cruel, eh?"
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The room was dim, with only two lights above the two chairs to light the room, from the dull grey walls to the dull grey floors. The reflection of the light highlighted the annoyance in Squid's eyes as he sat in silence opposite the young girl who had visited him exactly a week ago. Her wide, round eyes were focused on the wall behind him as she silently clutched her hands together as if in prayer. Squid's patience finally broke.
"Why are you here if you 'aint gonna' say nothin'?" he snapped, brown eyes flashing dangerously. Her eyes didn't lose focus on the wall but her hands dropped from off the table to under it. He waited a few moments to see if she would reply, but her thin, colourless lips remained tightly shut. "I don't get it, why would you bother to come here to see me? Why would you want to?" he asked heatedly. The girl's eyes shut momentarily but then opened again to meet with his and he felt a harsh pang in his chest.
"I saw your interview on television last night." Her voice was soft and calm, words falling from her lips like a stream of liquid silk. Squid shifted uncomfortably, he had kind of wished that he hadn't accepted to talk to that interviewer now.
"What do you want me to say?" he asked, almost like a desperate plea.
"Nothing, anything, I don't really mind," she replied. Squid rose from his chair abruptly and backed away from her. The guards behind him kept a steady eye on him but made no attempt to approach him. Squid's eyes were narrowed in anger and his fists were clenched.
"I am not gonna' make you feel any better, but what you need to know is that your fucking brother is dead, and no matter what shit I say won't change that," he shouted, his voice harsh and loud which boomed in the room, echoing. "There is nothin' to 'understand'," he continued his voice lower now, but instantly more cruel. The girl sat silently, her eyes closed and her lips quivering, her tiny hands clenched and chest constricted; she looked pained. Shaking her head softly, she looked back up at him, eyes blank and lips slack. Squid settled back down into the chair and his own calloused hands lay on the table in front of him.
"I want to hate you so much, but I don't even know you – I don't know what you've been through or what happened to you," she said softly "And you didn't know David," she finished in a whisper. Squid clenched his jaw and swallowed hard.
"Why don't you just leave, there 'aint nothin' for you here," he replied in a sigh. Her small pale hand slid closer to the glass and then through the slot, finally landing on his. Staring with disbelief he drew his hand back from her icy- cold touch. Her skin was cold to the touch almost like a porcelain doll.
"I can't" she replied forcefully her hand unmoving even though his had moved away; he didn't want to touch her, it almost made him feel guilty, but the feeling was gone to quickly for him to dwell.
"I can't make you feel better," he said harshly. The girl sighed heavily and drew her hands to her chest, clutched together.
"I'm not trying to feel better; I don't want to feel better. I want to understand," she spoke back with the same amount of force as he used. Squid furrowed his brow and studied her face; long and gaunt with hollowed cheeks and thin, bloodless lips. "Someone has to miss him; someone has to be always missing him. Others can forget, but I won't, and even if that means that I'll never be the same, I don't care because David is dead and I can't – I won't forget," her voice shattered into a quiet whisper. Squid felt his insides tighten uncomfortably as she broke down in front of him; not crying – crying he could handle, but she was so determined, as if there was still hope for her brother.
"Talk to someone who knows you, someone who gives a shit," he replied spitefully.
"No one does know me anymore, they're angry because you're not who you used to be. I know they'll never say it, but it's true. A lot of my friendships are done, and all I know is that I need this, I need this," her words set like a blade in his chest, he didn't want to hear about her pathetic little life, he didn't want to know what 'pain' she's been going through; he didn't want to care.
"What - do – you – want – from - me?" he asked, each word said loudly, with anger lacing each syllable. The girl rose from her seat and left through the doors, guards following without another word.
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It was a strange feeling just sitting in your cell, feeling your own sanity rotting away. The mother-crier next door had started weeping hours ago but his calling out had only just started.
"Mother! Mum! Mother!" The same words repeated over and over, beginning to make Squid's head ache. Squid lay back down in his bed, atop the covers and thought back to his own mother. He could still remember how disappointed she had been when he had been sent to Camp Green Lake, but even so, she had forgiven him for the stealing, for the fights at school, for the bad grades, but when he looked into her old tired eyes that night, telling her what he had done; telling her how he had killed another human-being, she had looked at him with disgust. His own mother had to look away from him in revulsion, he actually disgusted her, repulsed her. He wanted to say sorry, he wanted to tell her he had done it in self-defence, but he couldn't lie to his mother – sure she was a drunk, but she cared for him, and she did the best she could. He had momentarily thought to tell her that he loved her, but she had already told him that she never wanted to see him again – ever, so he left. Squid thumped his chest hard with his fist, he didn't really know why, but he did it over and over until his chest was red and sore. Removing his t-shirt, Squid looked down at the large red splotch on his chest and could feel it ache. He wasn't sure what he was trying to do, but the feeling of self-loathing panged harshly in his chest – he wanted to make it stop, he wanted to – to understand? Sitting up rigidly, he felt himself shiver. The girl haunted his mind; her large glowing eyes and small pale hands. She was breaking into his mind.
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Author's Note - I realise that the girl's behaviour (name still to be revealed) seems a tad odd, but I'm sure if any of you readers have ever lost anyone, you'll know what its like. Please Review.