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He Doesn't Know
He doesn’t know. He will never know unless I tell him. He belongs with me. I sit on my bed staring through binoculars. His hair…it’s so golden…it looks so soft…I wish I could touch it. My gaze is directed through my bedroom window to the bedroom window right across from mine. His window is a portal. It is a portal into his life, allowing me to be with him always. We both have blonde hair…we both have green eyes…it’s meant to be. He doesn’t know I’ m watching. He never knows I’m watching… I blacked out the outside of my window so he would never know. So that he would leave the curtains up, thinking I couldn’t see his every move-when he combs his hair with his fine-toothed, navy blue comb, when he chews on his pencil while he’s studying chemistry, when he gets into fights with his girlfriend on the phone. She is ungrateful. I would cherish him. We would be magical together.
I hear a honk out front. Who would be honking outside of my house? I crane my neck, almost falling off my bed, to see. I see a mustang emblem, and I know. It is her. Her, with the pink mustang that was custom ordered for her the day of her sixteenth birthday. Her, who moved to this small town in Mississippi from California. Her, who won homecoming queen after two months at Charleston High School. Her, who is captain of the cheerleading squad, vice-president of National Honors Society, and secretary of the debate team. Her who is dating Trevor Johnson. Her name is Jane Rodgers. How could he like her? Trevor and I have more in common.
He is leaving. I see him exit his house and get into her car. He kisses her. I shudder. I need to be in his room. Just a minute would be amazing. I need to smell him. I need to let him know I will be his. I exit my room and creep down the staircase. I grab my purse, which is lying on the bench at the bottom of the staircase. I hear a yawn.
“Mom?” I yell.
“No, it’s Johnny,” my annoying younger brother replies. He is sitting at the kitchen table eating a sandwich.
“Oh. Hey Johnny. I’m going over to my friend’s house,” I mutter.
“Friend? What friend?” he asked, doubtfully.
“You don’t know her, she’s new. Anyway I’ll be back in like an hour. Don’t do anything stupid,” I warned.
“Ya, whatever. I’ll just watch the shows I have recorded in the family room,” he assured.
“OK. Well have fun with that.” I slid to the other side of the kitchen. “You know, Mom will probably be back soon. The movie can’t last all day.” I reach my arm behind me to open a drawer. “So make sure you put those dishes in the dishwasher. I am not doing your dishes again.” I reach into the drawer. He doesn’t notice. I feel around. Which one? Where is it? Here it is. I pick it up and drop it into my bag. Johnny is unaware. “OK I’m leaving now. If Mom gets back before I do, tell her I’m at the mall.””
“I thought you were going to a friend’s house.” He eyes me suspiciously.
“Well, ya. Then we’re going to the mall.” I am lying. Does he believe me?
“OK. Whatever dork. Pick me up Alien Blaster IV at Game Stop if they have it.” He believes me. Good.
“We’re going to Macy’s. Game Stop is like on the other side of the mall. Get it yourself next time you go,” I replied.
“Fine. Be that way. You can leave now.” He looks angry. I don’t care. I need to be in Trevor’s bedroom.
“Fine. Bye.” I walk to the door. It creeks as I open it and step out. I look over to Trevor’s house. No one is home. This is perfect. I look around. No cars, no people. I walk across my yard and into his. I step up the porch and go up to the door. I try the handle. It’s open. This is perfect.
“Hello?” I yell, just in case. No one replies. This. Is. Perfect. My heart is racing. I see the staircase. I walk up the first few steps. Should I do this? I can’t turn back now. I am so close. I get to the top. Where is his bedroom? I look in the first two doors I pass. One is a closet. One is a bathroom covered in floral wallpaper. I come to the third door and open it. This is it. All I have dreamed of, all that I have looked at for the past year when the Johnson’s moved in. This is really happening. His bed is unmade. I lie in it. I smell it. I smell him. I go to his dresser, which is covered in football and basketball trophies. He is so talented. Our kids will be so talented. I open the first drawer. Shorts. He wore the green shorts on top last Friday to school. They’re slightly too big on him, but he’s had them since he moved here. I open the next door. T-shirts. On top, a Kansas University shirt he wore a couple weeks ago. His brother goes to KU. I look through every door, every item of clothing invoking memories. I know him so well. He belongs with me.
I spy his desk on opposite from his dresser. He has a bulletin board attached to the wall above it. It is covered in pictures. There are pictures of him with his friends, with his family, and with…his girlfriend. Their prom picture is pinned there. It’s disgusting. It’s disgusting how “perfect” they are together. I rip it off the board. Carefully, as to not disturb his beautiful body, I divide the picture in half. I tear his girlfriend into pieces, and toss her into the waste bin. I keep him in my pocket. He is close to me.
What is that? I hear steps. Someone is in the house. I hear the pounding of feel coming up the stairs. Someone is coming up the stairs.
“Hey I got our prom pics!” I hear Taylor say.
“Oh my gosh! Really? I can’t wait to see!” I hear Jane.
They are coming to his room. I must find a place to hide. But where? I see a door. It’s Trevor’s closet. I bury myself into the back of it, behind piles of shoes and sports equipment. They enter his room. I unzip my bag and look through it. I must find it.
“Where’s the prom pic?” Jane asks.
“On the bulletin board,” Taylor replies.
“Um, no it’s not babe,” Jane says.
“It was there this morning,” says Taylor. “That’s weird. I swear it was there. Maybe my mom took it for her scrapbook.”
“Gosh, I was really looking forward to seeing it!” says Jane. “Wait. Is that it in the trash? Oh my gosh it is. It’s torn into pieces, but I’m the only one in it. Why would you do that?” She sounds angry.
“I did not do that J. Someone must have done that. I have no idea who. That’s sort of creepy,” Taylor replies.
I find it in my bag. I don’t know what to do. There are two of them. I’ll have to wait until one of them leaves.
“OK, well I’m going to use the bathroom. We’ll talk about this when I get back.”
Yes. She is leaving. I wait a minute and turn the doorknob slowly, carefully creaking open the door as not to scare him. I step out. My hands are behind my back. He whips his head around.
“WHAT THE… WHO ARE YOU AND WHY ARE YOU IN MY CLOSET???” He’s scared.
“I…I love you,” I stammer.
“WHAT? Who are you?”
“I’m your soul mate. You just have to believe me. I live next door. Don’t you see? We belong together.”
Jane walks in the door. “Oh, hey Katie! What are you doing here?”
“You know this girl?” Taylor asks.
“Of course. She’s in our English class. So Katie what’s up?”
I take it out from behind my back.
“WOAH put that away! Why do you have a knife?” Taylor is frightened.
“I need to show you how much I love you.” I feel the weight of the knife in my hands. It is long, about five inches, and it’s sharp.
“I don’t know you! This is crazy.”
“So…you don’t want to be with me? But…you don’t understand. We are perfect together. She…she doesn’t know you like I do.”
“First of all, PUT DOWN THE KNIFE. Second, we have been together for a year. Jane knows me better than anyone. You need help.”
“If you don’t want me there’s nothing to live for. I was going to kill her. I could, easily. Then we could be together.” They are staring at me in horror. They don’t understand. I had everything figured out. I take the knife in my right hand and slash it on my left wrist. The pain is liberating. Now the physical pain I am enduring mimics the emotional pain I feel. I need more. They are screaming. She runs out to call an ambulance. I don’t care. If I die know I can be with him in his room, forever. He will always remember me. I suppose that is better than not being with him. I bring the knife to my chest. In one thrust I pierce the vital muscle that drives my body. I fall to my knees. He’s telling me to stop. Why should I? He doesn’t want me. The pain shoots through me. The blood is so red…it’s beautiful. It pours out of my chest, soaking my t-shirt and dripping onto his carpet. It will forever be a reminder that I was here. He will always remember me. I am losing blood. I feel weak. I am struggling to stay awake.
“You…you belong with me.”