From: joshua@dmccorp.com (Joshua Lellis)
Subject: Responsive Reaction
Date: 22 May 1995 04:04:25 GMT

Responsive Reaction
by Joshua Lellis
Copyright 1995 Joshua Lellis

   You don't tell anyone, you're so scared out of your mind.
   That and it seems to be a rule when they start off.
"1. Don't tell anyone.
"2. Don't scream.
"3. Don't do anything that I don't tell you to, and obey everything I
tell you to."
   And you'll follow what they say, too, because:
"I love you."
   And looking back on it now, sitting here, I feel sorry for the guy who
bothered to even think he could get away with it.
   Most of the time they did get away with it. It's every now and then,
with fuck-ups like myself, that they don't get what they want.
   And you'll have to understand *my* point of view. I mean, come on, I
*couldn't* just turn him into the police. They'd never believe me...
I...
   We'd first met in a comp store. I'd seen him before, and I was looking
through holo-video games and such. ("drooling over the drool" as mother
called it.)
   Tall, slender man, black trenchcoat, black pants, white collar shirt.
And an innocent smile.
   I should've recognized him then for what he was, but..
   "My name is Mr. Fredrick. My.. young.. friends call me Freddie." he
said, turning behind me (to block any exits).
   "Joey. My friend's call me that, too. It's my name."
   "It's nice to meet you, Joey."
   How old was I? Ten. Eleven, maybe.
   "Yeah."
   "So what brings you here, Joey? Looking for a holo?"
   I shook my head, and turned to look at him.
   Damn, he was tall.
   "Nah, I'm just looking around."
   Freddie smiled, looking down at me. "Found anything you like?"
   I shook my head.
   "You know, I have a holo in my car that I've been.. waiting to show
someone just like you."
   I'd been waiting to show him something, too, but I'd kept it inside
all these years.
   What had lasted as a relationship from that point on, ten years of age
then, twenty now, had turned into a sort of psychological warfare.
   He fucked with my mind, I fucked with his.
   He was better at fucking with my mind.
   And now, sitting here, shooting a rubber band against the wall. Now
spitting. Now kicking. Now crying, head in hands and knees spread. So
young and so innocent... now a wasted life?
   Not wasted, just used.
   Arms moving, now, resting on the carpet in front of me. Toying with
the rubber band. Flinging it across the room and hitting the phone book.
   Antiques.
   And then swimming through number after number, ad after ad, scratching
my way through it.

In Peace And War, We Are Just As Violent As The Rest.

   Finally finding a store that could let me borrow what I wanted.
   Christ, I'm twenty now. How much longer do I have until Freddie's left
here? (how much longer do I have for revenge?)

   To fire, the trigger is pulled back with the left hand and held back
with the thumb of the right hand. The gun is then aimed and the thumb
releases the trigger and the thing actually fires.

   Taking the rubber band and pulling it back across the nails.
   Walking up the house walkway to the doorway and knocking.
   "Come out come out come out to play."

   Damn, I'm ugly.

   To the basement and back down where he was sleeping, arm around a
thirteen year old girl. She has a black eye on the right side, and her
lip is cut. She's been crying, the make-up he put on her has been running
down her face. Her lipstick is smeared for one reason or another, and
she's been through more shit today than anyone should *ever* have to go
through. Especially with this bastard.
   I want to take her by the arm and get her the fuck out of here.
   She's pretty, considering. She's rather well developed, a lovely
specimen of the human species. But now ... ?
   Will she go on? Can she?

  CAN I???

   Brushing my hair back from my eyes and aiming at his head... and
reconsidering. Pulling the blanket back from the mattress and throwing it
aside. Taking the nude thirteen year old by the arm and moving her aside.
Throwing her a towel to keep her embarassment down.
   She is not embarassed. She's gotten past that stage of this. All she
does is cry and watch me.
   He's naked, too. It's funny, now that I think about it. Naked people
are supposed to be weak. If you're naked, they have power over you.
   I guess you could say she hides like Eve behind a bush in the Garden
of Eden. But this isn't the Garden of Eden. This is the Cain and Abel
story. Except this time, Abel's back from the dead, pissed, and has a
gun. A big fucking gun.
   And Abel's got ten long years of pain and hate and memories, all of
which are going to be here for the rest of his life. Each time something
happens. Every kiss, every hug. All of it, triggering memories.
   Can he even have a normal relationship anymore?
   Does he want one?
   I can remember a time when I loved. It was a spring day and we had
taken a family vacation to Wyoming. Only place that wasn't really
populated like the big cities, New York, Seattle, Los Angeles, Tokyo.
It was beautiful.
   I loved it.
   It was raw. There were no strings attached. It was: this is beauty. It
was plain. It was simple. It didn't demand anything and you didn't have
to give it anything.
   Come here, Cain, I want to kill you.
   I figure I only have one shot with my gun, so I'm not going to waste
it just yet. I want him to suffer. I want him to suffer everything I
suffered and more.
   I look over at the girl, who is shivering. "You don't have to watch
if you don't want to." I whisper to her.
   She shakes her head, and whisper back, "I want to watch him suffer."
   And then on top of him, the barrel of the shotgun coming down in his
pelvic region, and a scream. He lunges forward, I kick him in the mouth.
He falls back against the ground and shudders.
   And I put my foot to his neck and aim the gun at his head. I watch him
squirm and I hear crying behind me. I turn around, keeping the foot on
his neck, and I see the girl, knife in hand, cutting.
   And pain as he loses what had caused myself and that child next to me
so much grief.
   He's spitting up blood and she comes around next to him and shoves it
down his throat. The look on his face haunts me.
   His eyes widen, and I aim the gun one last time at his face.
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