Wicked - 9. Kyle 5

Only a cloud or two in the blue-blue sky, skirting along the horizons and sure to vanish later. The students of Brine High were running about the quadrangle and the grassy oval. It was Monday and I still hadn't told anyone about Jake, I felt scared and alone. I really wanted to ignore it and hope it'd go away. I'd hoped that after seeing me scamper over rocks to get away from him Jake would understand things better and stop trying to kill me. I wasn't interested in him nor had I wished him any ill will, I just really wanted the cursing to stop.

I sat with my friends at lunch, very quiet. From across the campus Jake was talking and sitting with other groups but whenever I glanced up he was trying to catch my eye. Smiling at me, and I had no idea what that smile was supposed to mean. Was he flirting? Was it knowing, was he trying to communicate something? Was he waiting for me to approach him? It wasn't a malevolent smile, but that only made me more confused. I felt too sick to eat anything. Suddenly the idea of magic wasn't something to laugh at, nor was it some fantastical thing. Magic was invisible and terrifying and unknown.

I didn't have General Maths that day. If I had I would've gone to the bathroom and hyperventilated instead of getting into any enclosed space with him. My typical 'get through it' attitude wasn't going to work this time. When school finally ended I followed Kim to the car park before tapping her on the shoulder. Were I a more expressive person they probably would've noticed I was bothered by something. Kim saw the anxiety on my features after turning around.

"What's wrong?"

"I know who's been trying to hurt me, the guy who's obsessed with me."

"You figured it out!"

"Want to come back to mine now?"

"Sure."

We separated and got in our separate cars, I scanned the crowds for any sign of Jake before pulling out and driving home. He'd not approached me at school, instead it felt like he'd wanted something. The TV was playing a medical drama, my Mum sitting on the couch with a red vegetable smoothie and a tray of carrot pieces and celery sticks. She and Kim greeted each other cordially as I led my friend up the stairs to my room. Once I opened the door all my movie posters faced us in the dark. I went to my bed and buried my face in the pillow, Kim closed the door behind her and went to open the curtains.

She turned to me "Who is it?"

"Jesse Cowles."

Immediately her eyebrows pincered together, but instead of denying she was thoughtful about it. I turned onto my side and huddled into a ball, still wearing my shoes.

"...I knew him in primary school, and middle school before we were friends." Kim confessed. "But he'd seemed so different now I thought he must have changed. It turns out he still hates his name, he used to smack other kids and start fights over it. But he'd acted friendly and very chill toward us this month, probably cause he knew we were all friends of yours. Brody called him Jesse and he didn't react to it, I supposed he was over the phase of hating his name."

"That sounds childish."

"Yes." Kim stepped over to my bed and sat down. "He was always childish, in weird ways. He used to always steal things from people, even worthless things that he didn't even want. Cause he'd throw them out later. He'd also tell lies all the time for no reason. It's that thrill of doing the wrong thing that little children have. And they're supposed to grow out of it, but Jake never did. He still had a thrill from doing the wrong thing, that like- juvenile urge, only it stopped being about sticking gum in places and turned into him spitting on people, then stealing and then break-and-enter. A mentality that stuck with him and he never grew out of it. He never lost that simplicity to him. Back in primary school other kids would have made fun of his name cause it sounds similar to Jessica, and even though nobody at our age would pick on that anymore, he is still mentally at that level."

"Then why have you been hanging out with him?" I sat up to face her.

"I've not spoken to him in years. I thought he may have changed." She shrugged at me. "That maybe he was just slower to mature, not stunted."

"What else do you remember?"

"Well... he was a troublemaker and a whiny brat that hated sharing and did things for attention. He was bossy and never played well with other kids. I remember he loved violent shooter games and violent movies. It's that same child mentality, obsessed with gore and thinking it's 'cool'."

"What about the black magic stuff?"

"I don't know about that. He was troubled and dark enough that he might've been drawn to the idea of Satan, the idea of a murderous entity that wants to kill people."

"Okay..." I wrapped my arms around my knees. "But what I don't get is that Marie Humberdross said he felt like a slighted lover. But I never even knew he was gay, let alone that he ever liked me."

Kim combed her lank hair behind her ears, squeezed her hands in her lap with shoulders bunching. Her lip slanted.

"Actually... I've been thinking about your situation, mulling things over. I knew you wouldn't have hurt anyone without realizing, so I was thinking about the type of person Marie described to us. She made him sound egotistical and manic. I thought about it, and that's like the exact opposite of your personality. You're very humble, cause of your older brothers and your home-life situation. You also blend into the background, you've said to me that people aren't interested because they find you boring. Well if you're humble and steady, maybe Jake was able to pick that up about you. Maybe he found you stabilizing, like you grounded him. A soul mate."

"And then..." I looked away from her "After he knew I was gay, his narcissism took over. I spoke to him at the beach Saturday night and he said 'I know you love me too'."

"Narcissism is supposed to be delusions of grandeur. You don't care about the feelings of others because you see yourself as greater."

"And delusion is the key word here. I've seen a lot of classic thriller movies, like American Psycho made in 2000 by Mary Harron and Bret Ellis. It got me doing some research online as a curiosity. People with clinical Narcissism crave constant attention from different people, it's called narcissistic supply. The attention validates their delusion of grandeur, cause if they don't keep feeding it the delusion starts to crumble and reveals the psychological wound underneath. The damaged sense of self stays subconscious and is hidden by the narcissist finding supply to constantly maintain the delusion. They believe all these fantasies about how great and clever and attractive they are, but when the illusion shatters and they're forced to face the reality of what their psyche is hiding..."

"No wonder Jake wants to kill you." Kim spoke grimly. "You didn't break his heart. You injured his hypersensitive and fragile ego. You went through the delusion, cut right into the deep psychological wound and forced him to confront reality."

I shuddered, dropped my gaze. We were quiet for a long moment.

"I have to face him."

"What?" She stared at me with wide eyes.

"I don't think Jake is angry at me right now. But how long until that changes again? He's supposed to be seesawing between hating and loving me, based on whether I play along with his delusion or whether I force him to confront a psychological injury. I still don't know what the best thing to do is, whether I should lie to Jake or what."

"You don't want him any angrier."

"I know. If I could talk with him openly and get a feel on his headspace, how he thinks and sees the situation, I would at least be able to predict him better. Ideally I could make him forget about me. Make him think I also believe in his delusion and see him so perfectly, then he'd lose interest and find more supply elsewhere."

"Maybe." Kim looked worried. She wasn't nearly as scared as I was though. "But I don't like this."

"If he has magic powers I can't go to the police. He's crazy but I don't think he's crazy enough to kill me in his own house. I'm going to send him a message. You can drive me there if you want, if I take longer than fifteen minutes you can come up or call the police."

"Bloody hell..." she stood up and started pacing the room. I tensed where I sat. Kim stopped after a moment and sighed in surrender. "Okay, send your message to Jake and see what he says."

It didn't take very long for him to respond. I sat at my wheelie-chair while Kim stooped over my shoulder, both of us peering at the screen of my desktop computer. Jake agreed to my request to see him and gave me his address and the unit number of his apartment. In his mind this was probably about the black magic, seeing as he'd been present when we used the Ouija board. Or if he was really nuts he thought I wanted to see him because I was in love with him. I wasn't quite sure what to expect from Jake. I remembered him staring and smiling at me, friendly and also a little smug.

If he'd cared about me not loving him he would've spoken to me, associated with me in some way. What he really cared about was losing me as a fan, because that was a different kind of loss that hurt his dependent ego.

We left the house, getting into Kim's blue Honda Accord and driving the streets of Brine. Afternoon sun glaring on the panoramic ocean surface. Trees and two-storey homes fluttering by, dog walkers and surfers carrying their boards. The apartment building was one of the proper-sized city buildings, we have a street or so full of them closer to the water. Kim parked in the lot of a tall, sand-coloured skyscraper. Off the side were balconies and rows of windows all the way up, dizzyingly high.

"I'll wait right here. Fifteen minutes." Kim pulled the handbrake and killed the engine. "Be careful and good luck."

I nodded and left the car. Still just as nervous as I walked the lot, there were a scattering of broken beer bottles glittering toward the corner. Glass crunching under my shoes. I stepped up a curb, over someone's takeout rubbish. Pressed the buzzer for Jake's room and the door unlocked, I opened it and went inside.

The colours in here were sickly and the materials looked scratchy. Mustard-colored furniture and drapes. The carpet was grey-blue with a squiggle pattern and dark stains. There was an elevator but it wasn't working, yellow tape over it in an X. An old coffee dispenser. I took the staircase and could smell pesticide. The wall plaster was chipped and marked. I was getting out of breath by the time I reached his level. I walked a corridor and read the brass numbers on red-painted doors, each with an eyehole. My heart was beating as the numbers got closer, finally I stopped at 303.

I knocked and waited, breath hitching. There were footsteps, the flick of a security chain and then a deadbolt unlocking. The door pulled open and there stood my secret admirer. Blue eyes and wide pupils, looking soulless and blank. He gave me a chuffed smile.

"Come in, come in."

With trepidation I followed Jake, thinking again of his fair features. How smooth and underdeveloped they made him look. I eyed the apartment, it was compact and clean. There were marks and breaks in the furniture though, as if he'd been extremely careless when moving them. Dents in the walls too, though they looked intentional. Jake was in the kitchen and started boiling the jug, he turned to me "Want some coffee?"

"Um... now?" Evening light bathed everything from the windows.

"I can have coffee at any time."

"Thanks, but I'm not thirsty."

"Suit yourself. Take a seat."

I only had to take a few steps until I was in his living room. It was stuffy in here even with the windows open and strategically placed fans buzzing away. I sat down on the sofa, the cushion beside me was leaking fluff and the hole looked like someone had bit through it with their teeth. On the floor I saw a roll of string from a sewing machine, broken bits of plastic and a pair of sharp kitchen scissors. My eyes raised when Jake strolled in with his mug of coffee, leaning casually against an armchair. Sipping and staring at me.

"Jake..." I struggled with words.

"Are you nervous?"

"I'm scared."

"Don't be scared." He sat down properly and kept sipping.

His head was inflating, misreading the situation as if we were both characters in different TV shows, me staring into his bubble and knowing he was reading every word and meaning and silence differently. I'd never been the best at talking, and I had no idea how to get my message across.

"Jake..."

His eyes flicked to me. The lighting from the windows was shining on his face, I could see the pink flesh beyond his pupils, the pale red of the blood in his eyeballs as if he were in a photo snapshot. The image struck me and I found myself unable to continue.

"I think we were meant to be together. I got a reading on our past lives and discovered something very interesting."

"Oh yeah?" I swallowed. "What's that?"

"We were married once and had kids. You were my wife. But then I abandoned you to jump aboard a boat ride to see the world. You were broken-hearted. Your soul had a vendetta against me after that. In another incarnation I was even a prisoner and you were my warden. And in this lifetime you were supposed to have power over me and break my heart, like it was karmic. But in the end I attained power and was able to fight you off and save myself. Ever since that lifetime when things went south, our spiritual connection became toxic and we have battled for control over the ages ever since."

"I don't believe in past lives Jake."

"I'm so over having to wait on everyone else to wake up, to be the only one who sees things clearly." He shook his head. "Why should I suffer for everyone else's ignorance? If I punish you now your soul might finally start to do the right thing."

"Please stop and leave me alone." My eyes pricked, I wasn't a crier but watching this was horrifying. "You're sick. Please get help."

"You wanted to hurt me at my most vulnerable this lifetime. You bit off more than you could chew."

I stood straight up and his pink pupils followed me "You need to forget me and leave me alone." I spoke sternly.

For a moment Jake did nothing. And then suddenly he launched like a cobra, his mug bouncing and spilling across the room, his hands at my neck and throwing me down. Thumbs jammed painfully into my windpipe. Looking up at that face contorted by fury, I thought to myself there wasn't a shred of soul or humanity inside this person. My hands grasped his arms as he leered down.

"You worthless idiot, I've been orchestrating every misfortune in your life. I made your relationship fail, I made your life fall apart and your emotions play up, I hurt your back and I killed your family member. If you won't be useful to me I will make you useful. I will kill you to become stronger."

Reaching wildly across the floor I grabbed the pair of scissors and slashed at his face. He shrieked and curled away from me. I scampered away, panting and sick. Getting around the sofa and toward the door. I'd dropped the scissors. Put a hand to my bruised neck and struggling to breathe. There was blood running down Jake's cheek. He was on all fours, face going pink as he screamed at me with rage, forehead veins popping, spittle flying out like venom. Body taught like a feral cat, he scampered up and the scream shaped into a string of high-pitched curse words. Getting around the sofa with a single-minded focus on me, slipping on his coffee mug and going down, head bashing violently against the kitchen counter-top.

More blood, he fell in a slump. My hand was on the door-handle but I let it go, falling against the wall and sliding to the floor. The neighboring residents had run out of their apartments, hearing the furious screams of bloody murder. The door leaned open and people were peeking in.

"Somebody call an ambulance! Call the police!"

I sat trying to control my breathing, face wet with tears. I ignored the scuffling and bustle around me. Puddles of red pooling around Jake's motionless body. A dark man in a turban tried to move him and then checked his pulse, confirming he was dead. People were asking me questions. When I was too shaken to answer them they helped me up and away. My arms strewn over shoulders to support my dead weight. Kim raced up the stairs and called out to me.

Police arrived. People were asked to clear the stairs as paramedics came up with a stretcher. Making their way up to 303 to take the body out of the apartment building.