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At the Crossroads

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I sat beside her grave. A frosty wind was howling, and with it came the stinging sensation of snowflakes running into my face. Frozen tears ran down my cheeks indiscriminately, and they never made it past my chin. The blanket of snow covering the ground acted as my only company on this lengthy, sorrowful winter night.

She was so beautiful, and yet they had degraded her into nothing. They stole her from me, those goddamn people, with their lies, names, and physical assaults upon her. I was the only one who cared for Emily, the only one who thought she mattered in this world. I thought she mattered more than anything, but that didn’t change her outlook.

She went from the joyous, fun beautiful girl I fell in love with, to the hurt and lonely girl I had to come to terms with. Her free spiritedness turned to isolation, and her body turned into a collection of cuts. Living another day was a chore to her, a tiresome, grueling chore. She quit that chore three days ago, and left me here alone. I never got a chance to tell her that I loved her, to tell her how much I really did care for her before she died.

I sat there beside Emily’s grave, sobbing, as I had for the past hour. Between these bouts of wailing, came severe episodes of anger. I knew who was responsible for the creation of the rumor that drove Emily to kill herself. Her name was Jennifer Clay, Jennifer fucking Clay!

The mere thought of her drove me to hastily punch the snow with all of my might. The police, the school, and her family had done absolutely nothing to punish her for this. From what I heard, her father was the owner of a large-scale shipping business based out of Florida, so they had shitloads of money. They used it to hire an attorney, keeping Emily’s parents from risking what little money they had to file a lawsuit. I was glad that those rich, snotty parents of Jennifer’s had just recently left for another one of their business trips, as I was disgusted at the sight of their greedy, selfish faces. The school took no responsibility either. They simply didn’t care.

My anger flared even more, practically melting the snow under my knees. I wanted vengeance for this unfortunate turn of events. No, I didn’t just want it, I needed it. I gradually rose up from my kneeling position on the snow, and sprinted back towards my house through the frigid winter night. Rage began to settle inside of me. Tonight, I would make things right, once and for all. The thought of this made me begin to tremble and shake as I ran. My body began to feel incredibly warm as I planned my actions.

My neighborhood was fast asleep as I quickly and quietly entered my home. The lights weren’t on, since my parents had gone to sleep already. I flicked the kitchen light on, and started rummaging through the drawers and cupboards. For what seemed like an eternity, I searched and searched. After nearly running out of options, I reached into the top cupboard right above our refrigerator, and almost instantly, drew my hand back. A small cut had materialized, as crimson blood trickled down my pointer finger. The warmth and shaking in my body began to intensify. I felt my pupils dilate, and I felt my palms become moist with sweat. Carefully, I reached my hand back up into the cover, and grabbed the item I so desperately wanted.

Upon bringing it down, I began to notice the fine details of what I was holding. The black, curved form of its handle was smooth, even delicate on one side, but more rigid and bumpy on the other side. My hand traversed its extensive, fine blade, noticing the razor sharp tip. These sensations pleased me very much.

I put the kitchen knife into my coat pocket, hiding it from view. Silently, I tiptoed out of my house, and back into the freezing winter night. I was the only individual walking through the streets at this late hour, and I could hear my every footstep, breath, and heartbeat. My destination was simple; it was about a ten minute walk from where I presently was. The bus I rode to school passed it everyday, so I knew its location very, very well.

As I walked through the night, my thoughts were trained on only one idea, and that idea revolved around one person, Jennifer Clay. What a slut, what a worthless slut she was. The bitch could barely keep her legs closed, letting the boys reach down and fondle her whenever they pleased. She wore skirts the size of a goddamn washcloth every single day, and her breasts were always hanging out of her top. To top it all off, she was the cunt who made up that fucking rumor.

The one that destroyed Emily’s life, and the one that destroyed mine. For no reason, she claimed that Emily was “the biggest bitch in the school”, and then it escalated into a series of lies that everyone started to believe. Every day it was “oh what a whore” or “your so fucking ugly”, and it went on and on and on. Emily was even physically abused by some of the other girls. They would kick, punch, and berate her until I finally broke up the fights. And this all happened because of Jennifer.

Infuriated by these thoughts, I began to sprint towards my destination, now only a short distance away. The warm feeling that had been pulsing through my body all night became even stronger, to the point where every single muscle in my body was flexed. My heart beat increased dramatically, and so did my breathing and sweating. These complex feelings of anger and hatred took over my body, causing me to feel incredibly overwhelmed with emotion.

Finally, I stopped in front of the one house I was looking for. It was a wealthy looking piece of property, located next to a small intersection, painted white like the snow. Upon seeing it, I began to chuckle to myself softly, the overwhelming emotions still present. I reached into my pocket to find that the knife was still snug inside, just waiting to be put to use. Tonight, I would finally punish this bitch. I was going to murder Jennifer Clay.

Stealthily, I approached the front door. From what I could see from the outside, the only lights that were on were in the kitchen. Everything else was black, so I assumed that either everyone was asleep, or no one was home. Slowly, I reached my hand towards the doorknob, and began to twist it around. My efforts to fully turn it around failed however, as it was locked. I knew another way to get in, though.

Under my feet was a placemat, stained with frost and snow. When Jennifer got off the bus, I had noticed once or twice that she hid a key to get into her house under the mat. I knelt down and threw the frosty thing off into the distance. As expected, a house key was located directly under the placemat, and I quickly snatched it into my hands. It emanated a cold, unforgiving sensation in the palm of my hand.

The key fit perfectly into the door, and I unhurriedly pushed it open. Carefully, I tiptoed into the house, trying to make my every move as quiet as possible. I felt my hands tremble with excitement, as my actions tonight would be disturbed by no one, since Jennifer’s parents were gone. I reached for my knife, still making sure it was where I had put it. Finding it in the same place, I proceeded onwards, towards the flight of stairs leading to the second floor.

I creeped up the stairs elusively, feeling the adrenalin rush through my system. My body began to tingle and shake almost violently, causing me to stagger somewhat up the stairs. My craving for vengeance grew as I made it to the top of the stairs. Along with the shaking and tingling, I felt my mouth begin to salivate, and my hair stand up. I was being bombarded with an endless sensory overload, and it felt so fucking good.

All of the doors on the second floor hallway were open except for one on the far side. I quickly edged to the door, anticipating that this was Jennifer’s room. My hand slowly grabbed the doorknob, still sweaty and trembling as it had been before. I steadily twisted it, letting the door creak open little by little. This was it. This was it.

As I entered the room, I made out Jennifer’s small, sleeping body. Cautiously, I approached her bed, drawing my knife in the process. My steps were silent, and I barely made a sound as I inched closer and closer towards her.

Suddenly, she began to toss and turn. I instantly stopped, only inches away from her bedside, fearing that I might wake her. Luckily, that wasn’t the case, as she stopped rolling around. I continued to advance towards her, getting ready to slit her neck.

As my knife neared her neck, Jennifer’s eyes darted open. I jumped back, spooked by the occurrence. Instantly, she screamed at the top of her lungs, completely coming to her senses as she recognized my presence. As quickly as she screamed, Jennifer tried to bolt out of her bed in an attempt to escape, but I would not let this happen! I sprinted with all my might and tackled her against her bed. A loud bang followed as her skull made contact with the headboard. All the anger and vengeance was beginning to stream out of me, and I wanted more, so much more.

“Stop it!” she yelped, starting to wail and cry in the process. “Stop it, PLEASE!”

“You killed her, you fucking cunt, you KILLED her!” I shouted, as I rammed her body against the headboard once more. She shrieked in agony as I did it again, and again, and again. I felt so powerful. I began to laugh at the sight of her suffering, her beautiful suffering.

With all my might, I pinned her to the bed with my left hand as she yelped and struggled. With the knife in my right hand, I jabbed towards her arm, but she stopped the blade with her own hand. Persistently, she tried to push it back towards me, blood streaming out of her palm. In response to this, I dug the knife deeper and deeper into her palm, causing her to shriek in pain. She quickly drew her hand back as I vigorously began to strike her arm numerous times with the sharp blade, ripping her sleeves and skin in the process.

“You made her do this to herself!” I hollered as I sliced her arm up into a bloody, mangled mess. “You bitch! You BITCH!”

“I’m sorry!” she cried in fear, “I’M SORRY! Stop, please! It hurts! It hurts!” Her cries intensified, but I had no sympathy, not for this whore.

In my rage, I shoved her off of the bed and onto the floor. She struggled to get up as I stomped my foot directly into her chest. A loud cracking sound followed, and I could feel the broken rib bones under my foot. Jennifer began to whimper as I repeatedly stomped on her now broken rib cage, one crack after another after another. I wanted to scream in absolute delight, I was loving every fucking moment of this.

“It hurts…” she whispered, unable to speak anymore. “It hurts, stop it, stop it, please…”

I wanted it to hurt even more for this worthless slut, I wanted her to feel Emily’s pain! “It hurts doesn’t it!? Doesn’t it FUCKING hurt!?” I screamed.

Instantly I thrusted my knife into her abdominal cavity, shoving it all the way in until I felt the blade hit her spine. She softly wailed as I yanked it out immediately, causing Jennifer’s near lifeless body to spasm. Blood seeped out of her open wound, covering her abdomen.

“I’m s-s-sorry,” she whispered in a soft, hoarse voice, “I’m sorry. It h-h-hurts.” With her mangled arms, she tried to drag herself away from me, but her efforts were near futile. I tackled her and immobilized her bloody body to the ground. With one final slash, I dug my knife into her neck, successfully rupturing her carotid artery. Blood began to spurt in bursts all over my hand and arm. I started to feel Jennifer’s breathing slow, but this gave me so much goddamn pleasure.

I turned her body over so I could witness the fucking look on her face as she died in this painful, helpless state. The amount of blood spurting from her neck began to decrease, and the look on her face remained blank and expressionless. Slowly, her lips began to move, preparing to word her final phrase.

“W-w-why?” she asked, almost silently as her bloody, mangled body went limp. I had done it, I had done it! I was elated at the sight of her lifeless body.

As happiness overtook me, I began to laugh, but it was not the kind you’d hear after someone told you a joke. My laughter was insane, and was shrouded in unrelenting malice. “That’s how she felt!” I chortled, “That’s how she fucking felt!” I shoved the body under the bed, hoping her parents would be destroyed at the sick and disgusting sight of it.

My laughter continued to echo through the house, its volume increasing by the minute. The warm feeling that had been present in my body all night was now burning, and my shaking was now uncontrollable. I began to lose awareness of my surroundings, drowning in the sounds and sensations of my present state. “You’re dead, you fucking BITCH!” I screamed, “You’re dead, you cunt!” I kicked the body under the bed repeatedly, still chuckling as hard as I had before. Still laughing… still laughing…

As I continued this, I suddenly began to choke on my own pleasurable yelps. Something in me though, wanted to keep laughing and kicking, but another part of me wanted to stop for some reason, to give it a rest. I began to feel these two entities fight over control of me, one wanting more, and one wanting less. It was at this very moment when, for the first time tonight, I heard myself chortle. I heard the malice, the hatred, and the insanity associated with it. My senses began to open up.

For the first time that night, I heard my thoughts, and I wasn’t blinded by the burning, overexcited feelings running through me. I was able to rationally think again, and regained the ability to reason and visually experience reality. With this, my laughter reduced itself to a dull roar, and the warm sensation was nonexistent.

Gradually, I peeked under the bed, where I had shoved the bloody body of Jennifer. A deep incision was etched on her throat, and blood soaked her now crimson pajama top. Lacerations blanketed her arms, replicating the way Emily had cut herself. As my eyes traversed her lifeless body, I swear to God I saw one single tear drip out of her wide open eye, slowly making its way to the now red stained carpet. I had murdered Jennifer Clay.

I eased myself up back onto my feet. There was an unfillable emptiness residing in my body, and it would never be filled up. It was almost as if I had become a black hole, vengefully destroying matter with no remorse, as I had to Jennifer, and to the legacy of Emily. Dazed and shocked, I stumbled out of the Clay’s house, and back into the snowy streets.

The falling snow had now turned into a freezing, wet rain. Each frigid drop hit my now blood covered skin and clothing, but did nothing to wash it off. The stains of my gruesome actions were permanently drawn on my body. Not being able to orient myself, I stumbled into the empty intersection next to the house, and fell flat on my face, having no intention of getting up. The only light supplying the area was a dim streetlight, and nothing else. No other houses except the Clay’s. I was alone.

Instantly, I curled up in a ball and began to wail, to wail as hard as I had ever done. “I’m sorry, Emily! I’m sorry!” I cried, with my words sounding like those of a young child lost in this cold, heartless world. “No one deserved this! No one!”

I felt so desperate, so alone, and so corrupted. I had turned my love for Emily into a weapon, and its only purpose was to kill those who I felt had wronged her and me. I became a monster, a vengeful, unrelenting monster. I hadn’t just destroyed one life either, but many. Jennifer’s parents would find her dead, abused body, and the community would again go through another tragedy. My selfish actions were to blame for this series of cruel events.

“What have I done?!” I wailed, wanting some kind of comfort or solace. But no one came, not a single individual. “Emily...” I moaned. I blanked out for a minute, sinking in my own confusion and self-hatred. I began to hallucinate.

She pulled up her shirt sleeve, showing me the scars and the enduring pain. I began to cry, as I realized the extent of Emily’s self harm. The fact that she had to hurt herself destroyed me inside. It felt like someone had ripped my heart out and slammed it onto the ground. I stared at her hurt, tired eyes, fearing that she wouldn’t be able to continue on for much longer. “I’m always going to be here for you, okay?” I said, but she replied with nothing in return. Her face remained blank and expressionless, and I could see that inside, she was dead. “I’m never going to leave you,” I desperately whimpered, “never, I promise. Please don’t leave me, okay?”

She didn’t respond.

“I left you! I left you!” I screamed, waking up from my flashback, and realizing even more the extent of my actions. In my craving for vengeance, I had forgotten what mattered most. I had forgotten that promise, I had forgotten Emily. She would have never wanted this, ever. “No! No! No! No!” I shouted.

Suddenly, something drove me to sit up in the pouring rain, in the middle of the wet, slushy road. My hand reached into my coat pocket, finding the bloody knife I had so spitefully murdered Jennifer with. It was now painted with blood, and was begging to be used again.

I sat in the middle of that crossroads, the place where I had so impulsively decided to cruelly end someone’s life. Through my sorrow and crying, I kept my gaze on the vicious tool in my hands. My will to live, my will to keep going, and my will to see another day, had disappeared into oblivion. There was no life to live, no reason to keep going, and no other day to see anymore. I had chosen a path that abolished the future. I had driven myself to insanity.

“I love you Emily,” I whispered, taking the knife into both of my hands, and in desperation, slitting my throat, just as I had to Jennifer. My body tumbled to the ground as blood began to spurt out of my neck and onto the road.

I began to fade in and out, seeing images of Jennifer’s dead body, and Emily, the girl who I missed more than anything. This crossroads would be my deathbed, my coffin, my funeral, and my grave. It would be my legacy, this cruel, cruel crossroads of conscience…

Written by TheBushAdministration 
Content is available under CC BY-SA

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