Circle
I took a deep breath, and headed down the stairs.
After the locker, I couldn't stand going to school anymore. I had tried. I really had tried, but it was beyond me. I couldn't stand any of it. I had suffered so much, I could have easily died, and Winslow high kept on spinning like it didn't matter, like it hadn't never happened. Like I had stepped into another world, leaving only my memories. I was unbearable. To know that you didn't matter to anybody. To know that the people who were supposed to look out for you looked at something that had scared you for life as nothing more that a stain that they wanted to sweep under the rug, and indeed they had.
I couldn't stay even more day with those three still there. I would live in fear of the time they would cross the line again… and that I wouldn't be so lucky, next time. I wanted to leave school, but I couldn't unless I told dad everything. Unless I told him how things really were, rather that letting him believe that the school was at least trying to make good of their promises. The hard part was actually telling him.
The bullying campaign that they had maintained for so long hurt, because of Emma's betrayal, my miserable day life, the breaking of mother's flute and all the things they had done to me, the things that made my life a living hell. But it all hurt all the more because I was ashamed because I couldn't prevent it, because I was so weak. And because I didn't want to admit things were this bad to another person, even my own father. It didn't make much sense, but feelings were always very removed from logic.
The smell coming from the kitchen was nice, but I had more important things on my mind, and I doubted I could digest anything right now. I sat down on a chair in the kitchen table. Dad turned towards me, about to tell me something, with a plate of food in his hands. He felt silent immediately.
"What's wrong?"
My hands clenched into fists.
"I… I have to tell you something." I managed to stammer out. And I told him. I keep my head down all the while because I knew that if had to look at him, seeing his pity, his anger, his pain, I wouldn't be able to finish. That way, I managed to tell him everything. About summer camp, about Emma, about Sophia, about life in Winslow. Everything that had happened.
"That's..." I could see him running his hands through his hair, even though I was still looking at the ground. "Fuck. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
I looked up at him, my eyes a little misty.
"I did."
"W-what? No."
"I tried, at least. But you were feeling too sorry for yourself to remember that I need you!"
A stinging pain on my cheek. I took a moment for me to finally realize what had just happened. He had slapped me. Dad had slapped me. The person I thought I could always trust, the person that was supposed to never betray me, unlike everybody. I poured my heart out to him, and this… this was what I got. This was what I got.
My vision exp… no, rather, it was my consciousness that expanded. Darkness. A void. The spinning, spinning stars. And, something. A glimpse of something greater between the cracks. It faded. Like it had never existed. I was crying. But what filled me wasn't sadness, but anger. He was an eyesore.
"I-I'm sorry," dad spluttered. "I didn't meant it, Taylor, I'm sorry..."
"You," I took a deep breath. I looked down. I didn't even want to look at him. I only wanted to hole out in my room and let the world kept on spinning. "It all would be better if you had been in that car accident, instead of mum. Just," I spat. "Die."
My throat was dry. I wanted to apologize for my words, but I couldn't find the words to do that. I heard him turn around without a word, and I looked up. There was something wrong. There was something deeply wrong with him. He was acting strange, like a puppet.
"Dad?" I called out to him, my broken voice trembling even more because of that irrational fear.
He opened a cupboard, and took out of a knife.
"What are you…!" I squeaked. My words died in my throat when he drove that knife through his stomach. He fell against the cupboard, and slid down, one hand over his gaping wound. It was quickly covered in red.
I tried to scream, but the only thing that came out was a chocking sob. I rushed towards the phone, even knowing than that injure was lethal. They picked up, after what seemed like an eternity. I told her my name, the emergency. Our home address, the nearest intersection. And I just let the phone fall, leaving it hanging from the cord, when the conversation finished.
I rushed to his side, keeled in front of him. I felt sick. Blood. There was so much blood. There was no way he could survive this. I had done this. I repeated that to myself, but even now, at this point, with him dying in front of me, it didn't felt real. A hand closed over mine. His hand. I looked at him through the haze of my tears.
"C-come here, Taylor. Come here." he pleaded to me in a weak, dying voice. I did. He caressed my cheek, his expression warm and unfocused. As if seeing a dream.
"Dad..."
"It's all right." he said, and kissed my forehead. "It's all right." he hugged me. "You didn't do anything wrong. So please, don't cry. You don't have to let this drag you down. Be strong. Be happy. You deserve it. I wish Annette had been here to take care of you, instead of me. You're right. You deserve far better that me. Ah..."
I could felt the beating of his heart slowly disappearing.
"But. Please, remember. I love you, Taylor. And I'm sorry."
"Don't say that," I hugged him tightly, not caring about the blood. "Please, don't talk like that. You're going to be all right. Everything is going to be fine."
I felt it. When he stopped moving. When all life went out of him. I couldn't heard his heart beating anymore. He was dead. Even though I still felt his arms around me, and his familiar warmness. Even though I still remembered the sound of his voice reassuring me, trying to calm me down, telling me he loves me.
Never again.
None of this will happen ever again.
I had been so resentful, because he was too caught up with himself. But that was true of me, too. All I could muster because of that was anger, not understanding. I never really tried to approach me. That the pieces couldn't be mended back together was my fault just as much as it was his.
What I had been doing? I wanted to be happy with him. I wanted for us to be together, to be a family again. But this was it. There was nothing more. With my own hands, I had ended his life. This maddening silence was my fault.
I drew back. After an eternity, I drew back. I stared at him. His face was peaceful. He didn't look like he had been killed. At the most, like he was sleeping. There was a soft smile on his face. Had he found happiness? Was he with mum again? I wished that it was so from the bottom of my heart. Either way, soon enough we will all be together again.
I went to the bathroom, showered, and changed clothes.
"See you later." I said to dad, as I stepped outside.
I headed for Winslow.
Lunch period had already started when I entered, but it didn't matter. Still had plenty of time. It didn't take me long to find them. They were alone together, on the rooftop. All three of them. They turned to me, surprised, and that surprise turned into a leer of disdain and anticipation. Anticipation for another turn hurting poor, helpless, worthless Taylor Hebert.
"So you came today, in the end." Emma said. "Finally mustered what little courage you have, uh? How pathetic."
Sophia just kept digging into her food, as if nothing was happening. I looked at them, all three of them, without saying anything.
"Emma, Madison, Sophia." they didn't even pay attention to me, let alone look at me, but I didn't care. All I needed was for them to listen to my voice. "Die."
They didn't move looking for a way to kill themselves, like my dad had done. No. From the eyes, to the brain. A signal, a spark, commanding their bodies to die. They simply faded away in front of my eyes, and in instant there were only three corpses there, in the same position they had been a moment before, as if their lives had been switches and I had turned them off. They hadn't even realized what had happened.
The last thing they had of this world was my voice commanding them to die.
I laughed again. I climbed up the fence, to the top. The wind whipped, but I barely felt it. A rush of happiness was flowing through me. I smiled. I closed my eyes…
And I took flight.
