That night, Father got the call from the principal about my fight. He stormed out of his room immediately after hanging up, and I unconsciously flinched when he slammed my door open.
I sat up quickly from where I had been laying on my bed. “I’m sorry!” I said immediately, hating how weak I sounded. “Tobias started it!”
Father crossed his arms. “Your principal told a different story. You’re such a worthless idiot! Why do you have to pick so many fights?”
I opened my mouth but said nothing.
“And now I’m getting the message that you’ve been suspended from school for two weeks! I have to babysit you for two weeks? It’s time you were taught your place in this family!”
“I’m sorry,” I muttered. My body tensed as Father walked over.
Why had I fought Tobias? I really couldn’t do anything right, could I? I was ready to accept the beating I deserved, but Father surprised me.
Instead of pulling me up and throwing me to the ground or punching me, Father sat down next to me.
I slowly, warily looked up, not wanting to make eye contact.
Father was smiling. “I have decided to try something new, Gabriel.” The syrupy sweetness oozing out of his voice made me shiver. “It’s clear that a simple beating will not teach you any lessons.”
My fear grew. “No, it will, I’m sorry, I’ll learn my lesson, please—”
“Shut up,” Father snarled. “You’re such a liar, you’ve said this all before. There’s only one thing that will get through to you.” He slowly smiled.
“What will you do to me?” I couldn’t speak above a whisper.
Father didn’t respond. His hands slowly reached out towards me.
I felt a foreboding that I hadn’t felt before, even with all the beatings and neglect. I knew that things were about to change, but there wasn’t anything I could do or anyone I could tell. Instead, I was alone with Father.
I flinched and tried to back away when Father’s hands reached my belt and began undoing it. “No, stop. Please, no!” I still couldn’t get my voice above a whisper.
Father didn’t listen, pulling down my pants first and then my boxers. “You know I hate this,” he said. His eyes gleamed. “But I have to teach you.”
Though I usually never cried (sadness warranted more beatings), tears began to slip down my cheeks as I panicked. This is not happening. This is not happening. This is not happening. “Stop. Please.”
“You’re so weak.” Father said as if I hadn’t spoken, running a warm hand down my leg.
This is not happening This is not happening This is not happening
“So weak,” Father repeated, “but so pure.” He unlatched his own belt buckle.
this is not happening this is not happening this is not happening
Father pulled down his own clothes and forcefully flipped me onto my back. “Well, you certainly won’t be pure for long.”
thisisnothappeningthisisnothappeningthisisnothappening
Father laughed. “Are you ready?”
As he leaned forward to…invade…me, I couldn’t take it anymore. “NO!” I shouted, somehow throwing Father off me and onto the ground in my wild panic.
Father growled and quickly pulled his pants on. “That’s how you’re going to be, huh? I’ll show you your place!”
He came at me and I jumped onto the floor, crouching down quickly. My brain shut down and I blindly followed my instincts, scampering out of my room still half naked.
Father ran after me, cursing.
My consciousness blacked out for a second as fear covered my eyes with dark spots, and when I blinked, I was holding a steak knife and Father was right in front of me.
“Put the knife down, boy!” he spat. “Worthless devil, I knew I should have killed you years ago!”
I took a step forward, breathing heavily. A roaring filled my ears. I was terrified. “Stay back. Please.”
Father laughed and changed tact. “You’re really going to kill your own father? After I took care of you and tried to make you good? Come on, Gabriel, that’s stupid and you know it. Now get your exposed butt back into your room and take your punishment like a man.”
A few random tears sprouted from my eyes. My whole body was shaking. “I can’t do this anymore,” I whispered scratchily.
Father grinned with confidence. “That’s right. This little rebellion may have been fun, but I knew you’d see what a mistake this whole thing is.” He stepped forward with his hand outstretched, clearly about to grab an exposed place he’d never previously tried to grab.
I didn’t have time to think.
By the time Father realized he had misjudged the extent of my iniquity, a knife protruded from his chest. He fell backwards, thrashing. “Evil demon,” he choked out, blood dripping down the side of his chin. Finally, he stopped and lay still.
A sob escaped my lips as I stared at Father’s carcass.
I knew then what a monster I was. I killed Father when he was only trying to help me, right?
A small voice in the back of head spoke up. He was hurting you. You couldn’t take any more pain. He’s the monster.
I covered my ears, but the voice still spoke.
I felt conflicted.
I felt terrified.
I felt weak.
I hated myself.
I don’t know how long I stood in the kitchen, staring at my dead father through my red eyes, not moving or speaking.
My trance was broken when I heard banging and the shout, “Police! Open up!” I didn’t move, and eventually three police officers ran into my kitchen, having kicked the door down.
“Your neighbors heard shouting! What’s going on—” one of them cried, stopping as he saw me, still standing above the body with my pants missing.
The three officers all raised their guns in unison, pointing at me.
I wished one of them would shoot.
“You’re under arrest for the murder of Rowan Schmidt.”
…
Living in South Carolina, I had always known that the laws on death penalty were looser than in some other states, but it hadn’t made a difference in my life until I sat in a courtroom and was sentenced to death.
Somehow, all of the factors playing into the murder of Father were against me.
I was eighteen—an adult able to be sentenced like an adult.
Nobody knew what Father had been planning to do to me or what he’d already done, and I couldn’t find the strength to tell them.
Worst of all, there was an “aggravating circumstance,” which was a fancy term for a component that makes a crime more severe.
To be sentenced to death in South Carolina, one needed to have committed murder with at least one aggravating circumstance.
One of these circumstances included lack of remorse.
“Do you regret killing your father?” an officer asked me at one point while my fate was still being decided.
Loathing for myself temporarily forced my mouth shut. Struggling to keep from vomiting, I thought about the answer. Did I regret killing Father? No. Would I do it again in the same situation? Yes. I was a horrible son and a horrible human. I didn’t really want to die, but I guessed that it was only right.
Just another punishment.
“I have no regret,” I eventually whispered.
The words sounded even worse outside of my head, and I knew at that point that only a miracle would save me. To have a lighter sentence, I would need to share what really went on that afternoon. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do it.
I couldn’t do it.
…
Once I was sentenced, I heard snippets of gossip as I sat in my jail cell.
“—killed his own dad—”
“—merciless killer—”
“—not even human—”
“—the devil in disguise—”
My depression grew much worse, and I spent virtually every day lying on my cot and staring at the ceiling as self-loathing took over.
I could never decide if I wanted to get my death over with or see how many years I could still live. Life had become meaningless, but something deep within me somehow gave me a sense of longing to survive.
The decision was not up to me, though.
About a month after I was sentenced, an officer came up to tell me the news: my obvious guilt and heartless tendencies had led the court to “waive my right to appeal.”
I didn’t know what the term meant and I didn’t care at that point, but the officer explained that because of this new adjustment, I officially had only 8 months to live.
At that point, I shut down completely. I had always hated myself and the situations I was forced into, but this was too much to handle. Everything seemed to go by so fast.
Did I want to survive?
What did I even have to live for?
Though I didn’t want to answer the question, deep down in my heart, I knew the reason for staying alive. Laurence.
God, it had been so long. He was fifteen now, right?
I was so vile, I couldn’t even remember what he looked like.
Before Mother had left, I was the best older brother, strong and comforting. Now what was I? Some broken shell of a person, an evil murderer despised by himself and everyone else.
I wanted to see Laurence, but at the same time, I didn’t want to taint him.
Therefore, a month before my scheduled departure from the world, when a police officer asked if I had any family who should come visit, I shook my head.
Before the officer left, I changed my mind and started to speak, but stopped and shook my head. Stay silent or speak? I was in a battle with myself.
The officer noticed my hesitation. “Is there anyone else you would want to see one last time?”
The words rushed out. “My friends Floyd and Tobias.” I hadn’t seen them in nearly a year and they probably hated my guts, but I was a selfish monster and didn’t want to die without saying good-bye to at least someone.
I’d always been weirdly clingy.
…
For some reason, my request went through.
Two weeks after I asked for them, Floyd and Tobias were allowed ten minutes to speak with me through a clear barrier.
“Hey, guys, guys, I’m sorry, you have to know,” I said, stumbling over my words and attempting to swallow the lump in my throat.
Both Floyd and Tobias narrowed their eyes. I remembered hating their concern for me back in school and suddenly found that I missed it.
“I have nothing to say to you.” Tobias’s voice was hard.
The words stung.
“Please, you have to understand, I didn’t mean to murder him—”
“Save it for the judge,” Tobias snapped.
Floyd shot him a look.
It was almost funny to see how their roles had been reversed. Floyd’s bite had become Tobias’s hostility. Tobias’s empathy had become Floyd’s worry.
“There’s one thing I want to know,” Floyd said, refusing to catch my eye. “Why? Why did you kill him? I never could have pictured you doing something like this.”
A tear rolled down my cheek. “I can’t say,” I whispered.
Tobias made to leave, but Floyd pulled him back down. “Just forget about the fight for a second, okay Tobias?” he said. He turned back to me. “Please, you never answered any of my questions before. You owe me at least one answer.”
My fists clenched, but not in anger. “I—I didn’t really want to kill Father, I mean…”
Tobias opened his mouth but Floyd shushed him.
I closed my eyes. Up until this point, I had tried not to think of that dreadful afternoon. I wanted to forget it even happened. But I was going to die anyway, and I supposed that I wanted at least one person to know the truth. Maybe they could even save me.
I immediately squashed my hope. Nobody truly cared for me and nobody ever would.
“I only killed Father out of self-defense, I swear.” I finally said. Opening my eyes, I stared down at the table in shame.
“Self-defense?” Tobias snorted.
“Tobias. Remember the warning signs we noticed?” Floyd hissed. “I don’t know about you, but I believe Gabe. And if he truly was acting out of self-defense, his sentence could be revoked.” His voice softened. “Was your dad hitting you?”
“No,” I whispered. The quiet of the room made my heartbeat’s fast pace obvious. Or maybe it was my imagination. I could do this. I had to answer. My friends could help me. Even though nobody in my life cared, maybe they would. Answer. “He was…trying to…sexually…assault me.”
“What the $#@%?” Floyd snapped.
I flinched at the raw anger in his voice.
“You’re such a @&*$ing liar! You know that my sister was assaulted, don’t you? And of course, being the heartless monster you are, you decided to make fun of me! That’s it! I’m leaving!”
I didn’t even know Floyd had a sister.
“I knew you were full of bull#$@%,” Tobias growled, standing up as well.
“Wait, guys, please—” I tugged at my white hair, feeling a few strands come out. “I wouldn’t lie about that!  I thought you trusted me!”
“You lost that trust the second you laid a hand on Floyd,” Tobias snapped.
Floyd nodded. “And you killed your own father. If you’re willing to do that, you’re willing to commit all kinds of sins.”
Their hatred reminded me of my countless punishments with Father, and I reverted into submissiveness despite myself. “You’re right. You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I hate myself so much. I’m such a monster,” I said in a dull tone with my head down.
Since I wasn’t looking up, I didn’t see the concern that passed between Floyd and Tobias. They didn’t do anything, though.
If they had taken action, they could have helped me spread the truth and brought my case back under inspection in court. I could have survived.
Instead, by the time I glanced back up, both Floyd and Tobias had gone.
I never saw either of them again.

The days after that seemed to fly by but every minute went by at a snail’s pace.
At one point during my wait for the end, an officer asked me if I wanted death by lethal injection or electrocution. I guess South Carolina wanted to be “humane” and give prisoners a choice.
What to choose? The pain I deserved or the out I was weak enough to consider?
I don’t remember answering but I must have, because one week later, I was moved to the Broad River Correctional Institution to die by poison.
I supposed that it was good that my brain wouldn’t be cooked, even as I hated myself for wanting to die easily.
It was kind of ironic, I mused, that my death would be more painless than my life.
By the time an officer bound me to the gurney where I would die, I was shaking so much that he had to ask me to hold still. It was clear that the officer just wanted to get the ordeal over with and get me out of his sight. He reminded me of Father.
I became aware of a wetness on my cheeks and realized that I was crying.
Too shaky to care and beginning to hyperventilate, I tried not to focus on the heart monitors and needles I was being hooked up to. I began scanning my surroundings as if there was a way to escape, red eyes darting around.
From my place on the gurney, I could see that I had been placed behind some sort of curtain. I turned to see the saline solution being pumped into my veins, but a movement caught my eye and I flinched.
The curtain was being raised to reveal me to the small audience gathered in an adjacent room to watch my death.
It hurt to see how apathetic and calm everyone looked. The thought that no one cared about me surfaced in my mind, but I countered it.
Of course no one cares about you. You’re a heartless murderer.
I deserved this, right? I killed my own father.
How could I want someone to care about me when I wasn’t even sure if I thought I should live?
I took a shaky breath as I realized I was lying to myself. I was sure about what my fate should be. I knew that I should die. It was a good thing that others believed that too, so I would be stopped before I hurt anyone else.
The faces of Floyd and Tobias swam in front of me. Their expressions were that of utter betrayal.
Dimly I realized that my tears had picked up pace.
I went back to scanning the crowd, and a blond teenager made me pause.
His face was serious.
He looked slightly younger than me.
Did I recognize him?
He didn’t go to my school…
“Sir, we’re going to give you an anesthetic now. You will lose consciousness before we administer pancuronium bromide and then finally potassium chloride.”
I didn’t listen to the officer speaking, too busy on staring at the boy.
Oh no.
No.
NoNoNoNoNoNoNo
I recognized him.
My breathing picked up pace. Black spots danced in front of my vision. I blinked rapidly and shuddered.
But could it be?
Laurence.
My heart stopped, and I had to choke back vomit. Tears blurred my vision as panic took over. I felt confused and terrified and devastated.
My little brother. My little brother, who I hadn’t seen in years. My little brother, about to watch me die.
“Laurence!” I cried hoarsely. My voice was scratchy and abused, but I was too focused on the boy I used to keep safe. I remembered hugging him tightly in the dark closet, the yells of our parents surrounding us. I wondered if he could even remember that. I wondered if he knew he was the only reason I hadn’t completely given up hope. “Laurence!”
My brother jerked, a frightened look entering his eyes. God, I had missed him so much.
“I’m so sorry, Laurence!” I cried, the anesthetic entering my bloodstream and making me begin to lose consciousness.
Right before my vision went dark, his expression morphed.
Laurence glared at me.
His eyes were filled with such malice that the last vestiges of light in my heart were swallowed by darkness. I wished I could explain the whole thing to him, to apologize again, but I knew nothing could make it better.
My eyes had become heavy.
The whole mess was my fault, I knew. It made sense that Laurence hated me. I was such a monster.
But what I didn’t know was Laurence’s pure sadness lurking right under his helpless anger. I didn’t know he was fighting back tears. I didn’t know he missed me as much as I missed him.
I didn’t know he loved me.
I didn’t know, and the hate in his eyes tore me apart.
All I could manage was a whispered, “I’m sorry.”
I died with the words still on my lips.
I supposed that Laurence was relieved I was dead.
I sure was.
…
The End