Outsider by W. Freedreamer Tinkanesh Page B

white shirt.
    I fall on my knees. Have I done it again?
Have I killed Reb like I killed Jane? I glare at my bloody hands,
my killer’s hands, willing them to go away, far away from me. I
feel pain swelling in my heart.
    She slowly moves her head up, one eye closed,
with eyelids so puffy that it will certainly take on many fancy
colours soon. The other one opens and prods mine. I can see pain in
the brown iris. Pain and questions.
    “Kay,” she sighs and gulps some oxygen. Her
lower lip is split, with a trail of blood at the corner. “Kay, I’m
asking you again. “ Her voice sounds raw and slow. “What’s wrong
with you?”
    Her head falls down again. I push it up with
tainted fingers, a sob ready to explode out of my throat, and
answers, with all the sadness of the world in my voice:
    “I don’t know, Reb, I really don’t know.”
    She looks at me, tired and weary. I carry on,
carefully:
    “It’s like sometimes I am not myself anymore,
and I don’t know what I’m doing. And when I am myself again, I
don’t remember anything.”
    With my other hand, I gently push her curly
red hair away form her face.
    “Reb, what have I done to you?”
    “You broke one of my shoulders and cut a few
slices elsewhere. I’m not gonna mention the punches, they were just
snacks, I guess.” With the hint of a sarcastic smile twisting her
mouth into a grimace. She winces reflexively.
    Did she cry out or is she the strongest woman
on Earth as I have always imagined her to be? She whispers:
    “Kay, unchain me. Let me go. We are friends.
I’ll help you.”
    I let go of her head. Her hair falls down,
following the down movement of the neck. And then I feel the change
starting again.
    “Kay?”
    “It’s happening again!” I almost scream. The
dizziness is stronger than ever.
    “Kay, fight it. You can beat it. Fight it,
bloody hell. Fight.” In a whisper.
    I remember falling backwards.
     
    “ Our dear Jane is rather drunk!” Red Reb
stated with a bright smile. “She’s gonna need help to get
home!”
    “ No! I’m not!”
    “ Hush, Child, let the adults decide, they
always know better.” I n a mock tone.
    “ Alright, alright, let me get a cup of
coffee and it’ll be my privilege and honour to be her chauffeur. If
I remember where I parked my car!”
    Red Reb, a tiny bit tipsy too, burst into
uproarious laughter.
     
    In my next moment of consciousness, I
discover it is too late for Red Reb. She is dangling from the
chains like a broken puppet. A huge and red splatter marks the spot
on the wall where I have smashed her skull open. Fragments of brain
matters interspersed with her hair, fragment of brain matters
soggily stuck to the wall, fragments of brain matters exposed on my
red carpet. Blood red carpet.
    Well, I have made quite a mess of my favorite
friends within the last twenty-four hours. They trusted me and they
loved me. Tears will never bring them back and there is no god to
implore for forgiveness.
    I spend the next hour sobbing, the flat is
wonderfully soundproof. My neighbours will never know. They might
start wondering about the foul stench in a while. Darkness is now
all around.
    I look at Reb, what I have done to her. I
haven’t destroyed her ribcage; even so she is covered with blood I
can see that. I haven’t touched it.
    Then I know what to do. There is only one
way, even if it is too late for my friends, I have only one
possible way to get rid of the beast within. Forever.
    There is a bridge in Bristol, the Clifton
suspension bridge. I have been told about depressed students
jumping off.
     
     

CHAPTER ELEVEN

    “ I wanna belong / I wanna be someone // If
I could just be strong / Until the morning comes” (Nikki Lamborn
and Catherine “The Been” Feeney)
     
    In the corner of the neatly printed paper,
Sid had scribbled in a moment of sleeplessness: Please, forgive me.
And she meant it. She never wanted to hurt Dawn nor Terri, but she
had deliberately killed the two characters the musicians