I had worked for a straight 36 hours. It was easy to convince my gullible foster parents that I was sick. I locked myself in my room and for all they knew I was sleeping. I had rummaged around Carl's bag only to find his eczema cream. After hours of researching and making sure the botulinum was lethal enough, I finally had what I needed.
The next day I went to school. After the months of being Carl's lap dog I easily strut around that shit-hole like a king. I reached homeroom only to find Carl had already arrived. He smiled menacingly at me. I smiled back with the innocence of Dr. Harold Shipman. "Hey Carl!" I trilled. I swung my backpack onto the desk next to the bastard, pulling out the eczema cream. "You left this at my house."
Carl looked at me funny. It was as if he was trying to see what I was playing at. He rolled his eyes and grinned that fucking grin of his that screamed the words I won. I chuckled. Dumb little shite. He took the tube of cream from my hand, brushing my knuckles with his fingertips. I bit my lip to suppress a shudder, it didn't work. He saw the tumultuous memories cascading behind my eyes. It was his turn to laugh. Sodding arse.
I sat down next to the boy. As the teacher started her lesson, something about psychology I had read in a textbook when I was fecking seven, Carl leaned over and whispered in my ear. "Don't flinch boy, you might get hurt." I felt his hand rest on my thigh. I clenched my fist, digging my neglected fingernails into my palm.
The words. Those damned words. Aim or try, aim or try. Echoing, echoing. Whispering, whispering. Oh I'll fucking try mummy. I will aim you cock sucker. And I will win. Five days, five days. I felt the hand on my thigh squeeze slightly. My fingernails dug deeper.
Only five days and it's Saturday. Five days and he's gone.
Four days.
Three days.
Two days.
Tomorrow.
Today.
I strode to the waiting bus, my head held high. The boys on my team looked at me and clapped me on the back, proud of my eagerness to win the swimming match. Psh. Swimming. I thought. Drowning. I grinned wider. Carl looked at me with a sadistic smile, patting the seat next to him, beckoning me to sit down. I smiled and virtually curtsied my way into the seat. Carl whispered, trying to sound seductive. "Hello my little bitch."
I leaned my head on his shoulder. "Carl," I droned, "I'm sad. My mum was cheating on my dad. It's all very depressing." Carl pulled me in tighter, just where I wanted him. "And we shared the same drink on accident and I didn't know..." I broke off my sentence, watching Carl's face start to falter in the mirror. I whispered softly, pretending to be sad. "I have mono." The look on Carl's face was priceless. He was frozen. "Mono from a prostitute no less! My mum was sleeping with female prostitutes in Soho last weekend and-" that's all I needed. Carl bumped his shoulder so my head snapped up and slid as far away from me as possible. I giggled to myself.
I checked my watch. 3 hours. If my calculations were correct, and they always are, that's how long he had left to live. If I put in enough botulinum, timed it perfectly, which I did, he would be gone in three hours. Flies live longer.
We got there, I think. Set up, I think. Stretched, I think. It was all a blur. I couldn't tell you anything anyone said or did. My internal clock was counting every millisecond. The fools around me accounted it to nerves. I suppose that is true in a sense, but it was more of an affect from adrenalin than being nervous about the upcoming triumph.
Ten minutes. I was readying myself in the dressing room - this part I do remember. I had my face to the wall, alone in the locker room, preparing myself for the competition. I felt breath on my shoulder. Slowly, I turned around to face the breather. It was none other than Carl. He looked horrible. I could tell the neurotoxin was already kicking in. I wasn't able to hold back the smirk that came from Carl's obvious discomfort.
Carl grabbed the front of my shirt. "You gave this to me you little bastard." I giggled, he thought it was mono. The logistics didn't even fit. It made me sick to realize how stupid he was. Why in all fecking hell did I even associate myself with this scum? "It's not funny!" He slapped my face. The dull sting only succeeded in fueling me. I laughed even harder. Fists flew. Carl was furious. It was so funny. He stopped when he realized the bruises would show during the competition. The hilarity of the situation was overwhelming. He was dying because of me, and here he was proving my point even further. Dumb dead bastard.
Carl spat in my face and glared. "If anyone asks, you fell down the stairs." He rushed out of the locker room, leaving me to wallow in giggles. I composed myself, hearing Carl's race up next. 1 minute.
I arrived at the pool just in time to see Carl splash into the water. With every stroke my heart beat faster.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
Carl stopped. His arms flailed and his legs kicked. Everyone was screaming, no one, not including Carl, was moving. Soon enough neither was Carl.
As Carl's ex-bitch I ran to the cot containing Carl. When the verdict rang out of his death I faithfully hung my head and cried. I begged to be left alone and when I finally was, I let loose the trapped bounce in my step.
A/N And there is the end of that year. Thank you to all of you who have stuck with this so far. I have written about one or two more chapters and then all of the other work I had made was lost, so I will upload those shortly and I will then get to writing more.
Love as always,
Shai