AN: What? This is a golden opportunity, and he's not about to waste it. I considered having her outright strangled, by the way, but I don't think he's stupid enough to antagonize an intentional murderer. Accidental ones, on the other hand…
The Puppeteer Patient 120402-I know! Barbarians. I can't say I'm sorry for her. That's called Karma. That's what you said about that man you killed yesterday. Most people deserve a healthy dose of it. I'm just helping.
Christineoftheopera-What's the fun in having secrets unless you get to lord them over other people? Or blackmail them? There's no fun at all. Funny, I thought the exact same thing.
Just-Me-and-My-Brain-Wish granted! You're not a genie. But I could be. A sexy genie. Let me rephrase that-you're not allowed to be a genie. You ruin everything.
I know where she is.
There. Slightly vague, in case someone else reads it, but specific enough to make him nervous. It's not in his handwriting, either-it's in his best forgery of Granny's.
Perfect.
He slipped it in the locker during lunch-no one was there-and went to class trying very hard not to cackle.
There's been murmurs about the fate of Jenifer Watson, but so far nothing concrete. Her parents think she ran away. Understandably, the student body has conjured up all kinds of stories-pregnant, kidnapped, ran off with that dirty tramp that was here two weeks ago…
Oh, yes. There's been whispers, but no one has checked the pond.
He knows when Charlie gets the note, can see it in his face. Before lunch he was quiet-of course, Jen was his girl-but after lunch he's white and shaking and punchy, looking everyone in the face for a sign that they know.
Jonathan keeps his grin to himself.
Are you sure she wasn't breathing when you put her in?
Much more suspicious, he knows that, but he couldn't help himself. Besides, it's a reasonable fear-he hadn't checked, not really, to see if she was alive before he dragged her to the pond. She could have drowned.
This time he sticks it in right before the locker rush at the end of the day and stays there, at his own locker a few rows away, waiting.
"Yeah, I'll see you in ten."
"See ya, Charlie!"
"So anyway, I bombed that math test, my old man's gonna be…" His fingers touch the paper and Jonathan can see him reading it, his forehead creasing.
"Charlie?"
"What's that?"
"Nothin'." He stuffs it into his pocket. "Sick joke, that's all. C'mon, we gotta go."
But his voice is shaking and he's no longer interested in his failed test.
He doesn't bother with a note this time-this time he gets a handful of plants from the pond and leaves them in the locker. He knows right when he gets them, too-there's a chorus of 'eeewww' and a wet plop when they're dropped on the floor.
"The fuck is this?" The laughter dies immediately. "This isn't funny! Whoever keeps doing this, I'm gonna find you and you're gonna pay!"
"Chill, Charlie, it's just someone dicking around."
"It's not funny!"
Oh, but it is. Absolutely priceless.
He gathers his books and slips out with the others, not even caring when one of them knocks him over. It's for the best, really-he can't keep the grin off his face much longer.
How can you sleep at night? the next note asks, and that's what finally triggers a breakdown.
Charlie lets the note fall and grabs his best friend-ex friend now, Jonathan's sure-and slams him against a locker.
"The fuck, man!"
"Charlie!"
"What is wrong with you!" He jerks him back and forth, banging his head against the locker door. "This isn't funny!"
Someone gets back with a teacher and Charlie is hauled off to detention.
Nobody goes near him now and Jonathan resists the urge to give him any more notes for a few weeks. But eventually he really can't help himself-that poor, murdered girl deserves justice-and that's when he gets a truly wonderful idea.
Why'd you kill me, Charlie?
There. Just pathetic enough to sound like a teenage girl-he thinks, anyway. He's basing this off of the overly dramatic sobbing that they seem to do every time something doesn't go their way.
He can't be there this time, unfortunately-he's got a test and can't slip out for water-but it doesn't matter. When they get out, the halls are buzzing with the story that Charlie Hagan has left the building. Literally, just walked out to his car and left.
He's gone for three days before they find him, hanging from the tree by Guster's Pond. There's no note, no reason at all that he should have done this. Needless to say, the whole thing is dealt with as quickly and quietly as possible-suicide? That's a one-way ticket to Hell.
He should be sorry. At the very least, he should be thinking about being sorry. But really, he can't muster up the energy. He hadn't intended for this to happen, his hands are clean.
Besides, that's one less tormentor.
THE END