Screams Taste Like Nectar - 1. Story

“Mommy?” Utah swung his head around in shock at the loud entrance the woman made into his room. His crayon fell from his fingers.

His mother appeared agitated, anxious, strands of hair falling out of her ponytail, her eyes darting nervously. She wrung her hands together as she walked over. “Come on, baby, let’s go.”

“Go where?” he asked frowning. She grabbed his arms and pulled him into a standing position.

“We don’t have much time.” Her voice was hushed and she slurred her words hurriedly. She opened the window. Then she crouched on the floor and pulled a small duffel bag out from under the bed. “Come on, baby.”

Utah was still confused but he grabbed his coloring book and crayons and walked over to her. “Wait!”

“What?” she hissed hysterically.

Utah reached for his favorite stuffed dog. He grinned and shook it for emphasis. “Doggie.”

She choked back a laugh and felt tears come to her eyes. “Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” Utah’s small hands curled around the hem of her shirt.

She didn’t answer her son. She wrapped her arms around his waist and began hoisting him out the window. “Don’t be scared, baby. Be brave for momma, okay? It’s not as far as it looks.”

Utah eyed the long drop, his fingers clinging to the window frame even as one of his legs dangled off the ledge.

There was a loud crash. They both froze.

“Dana! Where the fuck are you?”

Her eyes widened. Her face paled. Her lips trembled. “Oh, God.” There was pure fear in her words.

Her motions became more frantic. She nudged Utah’s bottom out the window. Utah gave a short cry of panic. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. Just go, mommy will be right behind you, okay, baby?” She kissed his forehead, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Go now, Utah. Go and don’t look behind you.”

“Mommy…”

The door sprung open, banging into the wall. She gasped and turned her attention back to Utah frantically. “Go!”

“Where are you going, Dana? Trying to leave me? I told you I would never let you leave me. You and that bastard child owe me. You owe me your life.” His domineering footsteps came closer.

“I love you, Utah!” Dana forced herself to shove Utah out the window, squeezing her eyes shut as she heard him scream. “Run! Run! Utah, run!” she shouted. “Please, run!”

She choked on her own sobs as a large hand closed around her throat, effectively strangling her.. She clawed at the hand in futile attempts, even as she knew this was the end. The beginning of the very end. Her eyes rolled.

“Mommy!” Utah wailed, rubbing his cut cheek from the bushes that had broken his fall. “Mommy, come down! Mommy, you said you’d come down! Mommy! Mommy!” His face was soaked with tears.

“I am so sick of you, Dana. Always crying, always messing up dinner, always so slow in fucking everything. And that stupid child breathing my air, taking up my space. I don’t know why I even bother with you!”

Dana was slammed against the wall. She leaned on it for support as she wheezed. Her hair fell into her eyes. Her vision started clearing. It cleared too late. She never saw it coming.

The impact to the side of her head flung her toward the window, her face smashing into the glass painfully, causing her vision to blur once again.

She heard Utah’s cries. “Mommy! Mommy! Please come down! Mommy!” There was nothing more she wanted to do than climb out that window and fall to the ground and join her son. She threw one leg out the window, her entire body burning and feeling inhumanly heavy. She noticed a thick maroon substance trickling onto the white window pane. The puddle kept growing larger. Her eyes fell onto her son, who peered up at her with wide eyes. He held out his arms. “Mommy! Mommy, I’ll catch you.”

“Run, Utah! Run!” She wasn’t sure if he heard her because he remained in the same spot.

“Where are you going? I’m not done with you yet.”

An explosion of agony erupted along her back, then a blow to the back of her legs. She crumpled as a strong grip yanked her back inside the room. Her fingers clawed at the floor, hoping for something to save her. Her hand clutched something soft and furry. From the corner of her eye, she realized it was Utah’s stuffed dog. He hadn’t wanted to leave the house without it. He must have dropped it when she pushed him out the window.

“No,” she rasped. “No, please.”

“Scream for me, sweetheart. Scream for me. I want to hear you scream!” he shouted as he raised the baseball bat high over his head. “Screams taste like nectar. I love it,” he breathed. “I love to hear you scream. Scream for me, sweetheart.” He shuddered with pleasure even as the woman’s screams grew fainter with each blow.

Utah couldn’t move. He wouldn’t leave his mother. He heard rhythmic pounding, but he didn’t understand.

A shrill scream rang out, only to be cut short. A streak of red slapped against the window, coating the glass in a graceful arc.

Utah swallowed. Tears stung at his eyes. Even at six, he knew the sight before him was not a good sign. “Mommy?” he whimpered. “Mommy, come down for me. Please come down for me.”

Someone approached him and tried to grab his arm. He swatted it away, staring up at the bloody window, waiting for his mother.

“Hey, kid. Hey, let’s get you out of the bushes.” The voice was soothing and gentle. “You’re bleeding, kiddo.”

“No, my mommy is coming,” Utah said stubbornly. “She promised.”

Sirens could be heard. They grew more pronounced with each millisecond.

“Kid…”

“Mommy! Mommy!” Utah screamed, stamping his feet. “My mommy is coming for me!” Tears trailed down his cheeks. “She promised me.”

Men in dark uniforms surrounded the house. There was a small white and red truck parked on their street. More men in uniforms came out, approaching Utah.

“No! I’m waiting for my mommy! No, let go!” Utah struggled as he was picked up and carried away from the house in the direction of a squad car. “She’s coming! No! No! Mommy! Please, Mommy!”

******

“Utah, Utah! Wake up, Utah!”

Utah clung to his pillow, even as he was being shaken roughly. When he was fully conscious, his eyes flew open and he sprang into a sitting position. “What?” he demanded rubbing his eyes. He jumped out of bed and shivered at the night air.

“You were having nightmare,” Aden said haltingly. He knew Utah was a restless sleeper and often had odd dreams and nightmares, but this was by far the worst he had ever encountered. Aden frowned. “You don’t have to go, you know.”

Utah had already pulled on his jeans and was throwing his shirt over his head. He stared at Aden with a look of pity on his face. “Aden, you can do better than me. Stop putting up with my shit. It’s pathetic.”

Aden frowned at the young man in front of him. He normally didn’t go for guys in their twenties, but there was something so dark, alluring, and mysterious about Utah. Not to mention a guarded innocence. It was beyond physical. Aden couldn’t get enough. Soon Utah was a regular bed partner of his, in spite of Utah’s faults.

“You deserve better. I don’t know why I keep coming back here,” Utah muttered searching for his socks.

Aden couldn’t help feeling hurt. In the months they’ve been sleeping together, he had hoped that Utah would eventually start to trust him, but nothing ever chipped at Utah’s armor.

“I’m an asshole. I’m mean. I’m obnoxious. I like embarrassing you in public. I come here for just a fuck and a warm place to sleep since my apartment doesn’t have decent heat,” Utah ranted. “I fucking steal from you!” Utah yelled. “Whenever I leave, I take money out of your wallet.”

“I know,” Aden broke in quietly.

Utah’s eyes widened. “Then why…”

“Do I still want you?” Aden finished. “You’re not as bad as you try to make yourself seem, Utah. You’re remarkably gentle and in tune with me in bed. Your eyes finally show some life. I can see that you care. You care enough not to hurt me physically and that means something. You stay after we finish because you want warmth and comfort. I can see you’ve missed out on that…”

“It was taken from me,” Utah snapped harshly.

Aden blinked. “You take money from me not for fun, but because you need it. You’re struggling on your own, yet you refuse to ask for help.”

“You think you know everything.” Utah looked up at Aden, his eyes dark and troubled. “I wish you didn’t care for me. I don’t want you to. Stop.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“I won’t be around much longer,” Utah announced.

“What?” Aden demanded in confusion. “What does that mean?”

“Screams taste like nectar,” Utah breathed.

Aden frowned. That was the weirdest thing he had ever heard and he had only heard it from Utah’s lips. Utah had begun to say it more frequently as of late.

Utah turned to him. “I have a plan, Aden. But I don’t think you’ll see me after today.”

Aden’s mouth went dry. “Why not?” he stammered. He gazed at Utah, the moonlight shining on the boy’s porcelain skin.

“The world is fucked up, life is so unfair,” Utah whispered, his head in his hands. His voice grew thick. “I don’t know why, I don’t know how, I, I,” he sputtered. “I don’t know anything. Nothing makes sense, you know?” When he met Aden’s eyes again, they were glistening with tears. “The one thing I do know is that justice comes from within.”

“What?”

“You can kill someone and then live a free man a few years later. How does that work? How does that make sense?”

“It doesn’t,” Aden stated, not knowing what Utah was getting at.

“She meant everything to me,” Utah mumbled. “She was all I had.”

Jealousy coursed through Aden. Utah had never mentioned a woman before, other than his mother, and that was only to say she had died when he was a child.

“It’s up to me to fix this,” Utah said. His eyes were so intense, Aden almost fell backward. “I have a plan. I have a plan.”

“What plan?”

Utah stood up and like clockwork, reached for Aden’s wallet, and pulled out all the bills. He stuffed them into his back pocket and offered Aden a tired, wry smile. “This is goodbye, Aden.”

“Wait, Utah, what…”

Utah opened the door, halfway out. “I’m sorry for everything. You’re a good person and I appreciate you staying by me,” he said his eyes almost apologetic.

“I think I can make you happy if you let me,” Aden blurted out. He was a successful businessman, intelligent, good looking, and well liked. He wasn’t used to groveling, but Utah made him want to try. “Why can’t you let me?”

Utah froze.

“Let me in, Utah,” Aden pleaded.

“My whole life, after my mom died, I’ve just been existing. I’m tired of existing, you know? I’ve just been waiting. Waiting for one thing. Now’s my chance. I have a plan,” Utah explained.

“What plan?” Aden nearly screamed in frustration, wanting Utah to stay and talk to him.

Utah took a deep breath. “Thank you, Aden. I wish you the best, okay? You deserve it. If only my mother had met a man like you, huh?” His smile was faint and wishful, his tone full of regret. “Fast forward to now, I might have been able to let you in. But that’s silly thinking. That’s not how fate designed it.”

“Utah…” Aden began.

“Wish me luck. I’ll need it.”

“Utah, please…”

The door shut softly.

******

“The insanity defense will never hold up, Casey.”

Casey allowed a small smile to show through his calm mask. “It will,” he stated confidently. “What are you offering?”

“No deal!” Martin exclaimed, throwing his hands to his sides. “What’s your case? It was premeditated murder. He went to the victim’s house. He repeatedly beat and stabbed the man even after he was killed. Have you seen the crime scene? You have no case.”

“Do you know who that man was?” Casey mumbled under his breath.

“What?” Martin demanded.

Casey cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. “Look,” he began in conciliatory tone, something Martin had never heard from the defense attorney, “Why don’t you have him evaluated? By your own guys? Maybe you’ll change your mind about a deal.”

“Doubtful,” Martin replied. “I believe in justice for the victim and not letting everyone walk because they feel they’re ‘crazy’. The victim and the victim’s families matter to me.”

Casey stared hard at the younger man. “I believe in justice for the victim, Martin. Believe me, I do. But justice and the law, it isn’t so clear cut. It’s not exactly black and white like they teach you. Get back to me on the interview. You’ll see what I mean. Then we’ll talk.”

******

“Utah, what can you tell me about your childhood?” Henson asked calmly, studying the twenty-one year old in front of him.

Utah was silent, his eyes on the table. Henson could tell Utah had processed his question. There was thought and emotion flickering in those dark eyes.

“What about your mother? You lost her at a young age. You were in foster…”

“Screams taste like nectar,” Utah breathed, still not looking up.

Henson went silent, waiting for Utah to continue.

Utah met the older man’s eyes, head on, clarity shining through them. Black pools of hate, of anger, of love, of loss, and of memories blurred together. Henson was fascinated. He couldn’t look away.

“That’s what he always said,” Utah said slowly. He had a deliberate way of speaking, almost like a leisure drawl. “He liked when she screamed. He got off on it. The look on his face, pure pleasure, pure delight, like it was the sweetest thing in the world. Like nectar, pure and rich.”

Henson frowned, but didn’t interrupt.

“How are you supposed to live like that?” Utah asked. “I was six and I asked her why.”

His voice became one of a small child. “Why, Mommy? Why do we have to stay with this man? Why? He makes you cry and bleed. He makes your skin turn purple and blue. He yells at me and I hate hiding from him. It’s not like hide and seek, it’s not fun like the game.”

His voice turned back to normal. “She said, she said she had no other choice. She was young. She had me to take care of. She had no money, no family, and she had no one but him to rely on. It didn’t make sense though.” Utah’s eyes bore into Henson’s.

“Who can live like that? How?” His eyes welled up. “But she did. She did it for me. She woke up day after day, with sleepless nights, churning in terror, and it was all for me. I realized that after, after it was too late.”

“What happened?” Henson gently pressed. Everything was on file; he wanted to hear Utah say it. Then he could gleam more about Utah’s mental state.

Utah took a few deep breaths, closing his eyes briefly. When he reopened them, there was a steel resolve present. “Screams taste like nectar,” he grinned. It was cold, emotionless, a random twitching of his lower facial muscles.

“I whispered that to him. His house was dark. And I could feel everything. It was in the way he breathed, the way he spoke—the slight quiver, the halting sentences, so unsure of himself. The clumsy noises as he bumped into things. I felt his fear. I smelled his lack of power, because I was the one in power.”

“I told him I had never tasted a scream, but I had heard they tasted like nectar.”

Utah chuckled, scratching his eyebrow, his handcuffs clinking together. “I told him I wanted to hear his scream. I told him I wanted to taste his scream on my tongue. I told him I wanted to see how sweet it could be.” He laughed lightly, but in seconds it grew louder and louder, until he was nearly roaring.

Henson could only stare and jot down notes, which were basically gibberish. He was lost in the sight before him.

“He ran. After all those years of beating her until she couldn’t move, he was scared. I could have killed him right then and there, you know,” Utah explained seriously. “He fumbled. The lights weren’t working for some odd reason,” he stated casually. “He ran. Up the stairs, such heavy footsteps, that fat piece of shit. I could tell exactly where he was. The man couldn’t make an escape for his life, the way he was breathing.”

Utah looked up, his eyelashes fluttering innocently, beautifully, terrifyingly. “Cat and mouse,” he murmured. “I swear that was more fun than his screams. I don’t think screams are all that sweet, Doctor Henson. You want to know what I think?”

Henson nodded. “Yes.”

“The chase is intoxicating,” Utah inhaled deeply. “I loved how he ran from me, so hopeful, so desperate. Even his attempts to fight back were entertaining in its desperation. Now his pleas, now that was delicious.” He licked his lips. “That is like nectar. It was so good,” he moaned. “He cried and begged, like a writhing little bitch. It was so easy for him to dispense it, but he clearly could not take it. The blood poured out of him. He begged and he begged. He said he wanted to live.”

Utah grinned. “It was unfortunate that we had a difference of opinion.”

“Why did you do it, Utah?”

“He killed my mother,” Utah stated, folding his fingers together in a professional manner. “I ran into him at a bar. I was getting a drink. You know how it is for guys like me, another shitty day at work. Apparently I turn on middle aged men and they feel compelled to make physical passes at me. I wish I could stop taking up their offers, but there’s nothing else for me to do. At least I get warmth for a few hours…” he trailed off.

“I didn’t recognize him at first. There were some similarities,” he mused thoughtfully. “It wasn’t until I heard that phrase, that one phrase I will never forget, did I make the connection. He had been released early for good behavior,” he scoffed. “Do you think I can get released early for good behavior?” he winked at Henson.

Utah leaned forward. “I’m digressing. Do you know what he said?” he asked Henson. “Do you know what lovely little phrase he said? Just four little words.” Utah bit his bottom lip, until a dot of blood appeared. He answered his own question. Henson mouthed the words at the same time without realizing it. “Screams taste like nectar.”

“That’s when I knew it was him. That’s when I came up with my plan. That’s why I’m here right now, Doctor. Let me tell you how the day started…”

******

“Happy birthday, Sun,” Utah said presenting a cake to the half Korean kid sitting in his kitchen. He grabbed a lighter and lit the eighteen candles. “Make a wish.”

Sun’s eyes danced along the candle flames and smiled. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and seconds later, the air was filled with the pleasant aroma of smoke. “Thanks, Utah.”

“No problem, Sun. We had to celebrate your freedom.” Utah meant it, too. It wasn’t just a celebration of legal adulthood, but Sun would be free of the foster care system, like Utah had been free three years earlier. No more shitty foster homes, no more shady abusive parents trying to make a quick buck off a foster kid, and no more disappointments and fights living in a group home. Sun was free.

“Are you sure you don’t mind me staying here with you?” Sun asked hopefully.

Utah smiled. “Not at all, man. This was our plan for a long time, remember?”

“I know, but I don’t want you to feel as if you have to let me stay.”

“Sun, it’s not like that. You’re like my brother. You’re welcome to stay here,” Utah said, trying to look happy, but hurting on the inside. Sun had come to rely on him like an older brother, and now when Sun was finally moving in, Utah would not be around any longer.

Sun dug his fork into the cake. He grinned as he stuffed a piece into his mouth.

“Everything will be alright,” Utah stated. Sun nodded along, even if Utah was really trying to convince himself. “Hope you enjoy the cake, Sun. You have work and then you’re going out tonight with your friends?”

“Just some people from school. Not really friends, but they’re nice enough. Mostly girls,” Sun said shyly.

Utah chuckled. “That’s right, Sun. Work your game.” He ruffled Sun’s short spiky hair. “Have fun. You have the key I gave you, right?”

“It’s all on here,” Sun said taking out a keychain with one key.

Utah laughed. “Alright, cool. I have some errands to take care of. I’ll see you?”

“Sure. See you.”

Utah felt himself getting emotional. He cleared his throat and swiped at his eyes casually with his sleeve. “You’re a good kid, Sun. I’m glad we met.”

Sun cocked his head, but smiled. “Me, too. Thanks for always being there for me. I thought I would always be alone in that hellhole, and then you come along and, I don’t know, like, save me or something,” he said shyly.

“I’m no savior,” Utah said seriously. “Far from it.”

“To me you are,” Sun countered. “You always do the right thing, it seems. You don’t give a shit about what anyone says. You just do what you think is right. You always stay true to yourself. It’s admirable.” He blushed. “That sounds cheesy.”

“Thanks,” Utah murmured, blinking rapidly. He cleared his throat again. “Hey, Sun?”

“Yeah?”

“You know I really do love you. I want you to be happy and have a good life.”

“I know that, Utah.”

“Promise me that you will?”

“Promise you what?” Sun asked perplexed.

“Promise me that you will try your best to have a good life. It’s not too late for you,” Utah stated. “It’s really important to me.”

“Of course, Utah,” Sun smiled. “For once things look up. I’m not scared of the future anymore.”

Utah licked his lips, guilt tugging at his heart. “Let me get my errands done. Time is of the essence. Enjoy tonight. Don’t get too crazy or wild. I want you back in one piece,” he said jokingly.

“I will. I have work tomorrow morning,” Sun laughed. “Need to pay the bills.”

“About that, we still have to work on researching those scholarships and community colleges,” Utah said. “This isn’t over.”

Sun rolled his eyes. “Yes, sir.”

“I’ll see you,” Utah said his voice catching for a moment. “Good-bye, Sun. Remember your promise.”

The door shut softly.

Sun frowned. He tilted his head, his eyes wandering around the small apartment. He wondered why Utah had looked so sad, and why his parting was said with such finality.

Sun shrugged. Utah went through weird moods, and although Utah genuinely cared, he wasn’t always the nicest and most stable person. It was something Sun had become accustomed to. He continued eating his cake, smiling at the vanilla butter cream frosting. Utah had remembered it was his favorite.

Sun was happy. It was going to be a lot of fun living with Utah. He would no longer be alone.

******

“Déjà vu, isn’t it?” Utah chuckled mirthlessly, circling the beaten man on the ground who was still breathing, still alive, but well on his way to death. “Oh, don’t look so confused. Don’t you remember me at all?” He crouched in front of the bloody mess and stared. “Hmm?”

“Guess not. Let me refresh your memory. Or better yet, let’s do a reenactment! Won’t that be fun?” he asked with false cheer. “You seem a bit tired, so let me help you out.”

“Mick, right? Damn, you’ve gotten heavy. What do they feed you in jail? All our tax dollars must be going towards gourmet meals for the inmates, huh?” Utah grunted, his biceps burning with exertion as he dragged the dead weight toward the window. “Alright, I think it was over here. She had just made it to the window. She was leaning out of it. Forgive me, but I don’t think I can lift your fat ass up to reach the window.

“Okay, let’s see…” Utah tapped his chin thoughtfully. “She was screaming,” Utah continued. “Her scream ended suddenly. I heard consistent pounding. I didn’t know what that was at the time, those awful, awful sounds. But I asked questions as I got older. It was a baseball bat, my baseball bat, right?” Utah cocked his head.

“You were in my room, used my bat, and killed my mother.” Utah snapped his head to the side, cracking his neck loudly. “That’s right. I’m Dana Rowen’s son, all grown up. I turned twenty-one a few months back. Not much of a birthday though. I missed my mom.” He stared at Mick condescendingly. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

Mick drew in raspy breaths of his air, his eyes wide and trained on Utah. Blood streaked across his face, as he tried to move his head from side to side in protest.

“Let’s get this show on the road, shall we? I can see that you’re getting impatient.” Utah said briskly, dusting his knees and standing. He tightened his fingers around the bat, releasing and catching it, getting a rhythm going. “Scream for me, Mick. Scream for me. Screams taste like nectar, and I’ve never tasted it before!” he shouted.

“Scream. For. Me. Mick.” Each word was enunciated with a brutal slamming of the baseball bat. “Screams. Taste. Like. Nectar. Scream. For. Me. Mick!”

It went on and on, sweet and melodic to Utah’s ears.

He was exhausted, droplets of blood coating his face, remnants of flesh and skin hanging on the baseball bat. His shoulders, arms, and stomach ached. The bat fell out of his hands. He was tired. So tired and so sore. “Fuck.”

Mick had nothing to say. His face was an unrecognizable mess, blood soaking the carpet. Utah’s muscles felt like jelly. He sank to the floor, some of Mick’s blood creeping onto his jeans. “Oh, I almost forgot.” Mustering all his strength, he swiped his palm against the thickest pool of blood, getting a large handful. It felt solid and heavy in his hand. Utah inhaled deeply, taking in the pungent aroma.

Hoisting himself toward the window, he smeared it with one quick motion, creating a crimson arc. “Beautiful. Just like that night fifteen years ago. What do you think, Mick?”

Utah leaned on the window, breathing hard, trying to catch his breath. Sweat coated his body, he felt hot, and the room was stuffy. Utah opened the window, the fresh night air hitting his face.

“Thank you, Mick. Thank you for being a good boy in jail. Thank you for getting out early. Thanks for being at that bar. When I saw you, I knew my chance had come. My chance for freedom. Finally, no more nightmares, no more crying, no more memories, and no more waiting for my mommy.”

“Do you know how hard it was living these past fifteen years? Not a day went by that I didn’t think of her, of her fighting for her freedom, freedom from you. I see it over and over again, the blood, her fear. I hear it over and over again, the screams, the pounding, and your shouting. Oh, it’s a burden,” Utah said staring out the window. “A burden to the soul.”

“One more thing to make this semi authentic,” Utah said fishing in his jean pocket, producing a small stuffed dog with a dark stain. “Look, Mick, see here? That’s her blood. A cop was nice enough to give it to me when I was questioned. I didn’t wash it because her blood is still on it.”

“She won this for me at a local fair. We had the best day, playing games, going on all the rides, even if she felt sick. We had hot dogs and popcorn and funnel cake and cotton candy and chocolate covered graham crackers,” Utah sighed. “The Ferris Wheel was the most fun at night. Such a view. She won me this dog, and said it would protect me.” He clutched the stuffed dog to his chest.

He heard a faint sound in the distance. He stood still. He listened.

“Déjà vu indeed,” Utah murmured. “They’re coming.” He kissed the top of his stuffed dog. “They’re coming for me, Doggie,” he chuckled. “I guess you did scream pretty loudly after all. Thanks again, Mick. It’s been fun.” He offered a stern salute to the dead man before breaking into joyous laughter.

Men in dark uniforms entered the house shouting, their footsteps banging authoritatively on the stairs. Like before they grabbed him. Like before they escorted him to the squad car.

The only difference was that Utah was no longer a child. However, in retrospect, he had stopped being a child fifteen years ago.

******

“I watch T.V.,” Utah said. “Aren’t you supposed to evaluate me? Aren’t you supposed to decide whether or not I’m crazy?” he mocked. “What’s your analysis, doctor?” He leaned back in his chair. “I guess my fate rests in your hand.”

Henson blew out a breath. “It doesn’t look good for you, Utah. Premeditated murder, even if your ex-step father deserved it…”

Utah slapped his palms on the table, startling Henson. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Henson frowned and nodded slowly.

“This is my great plan,” Utah breathed. “My master plan,” he giggled, sound child like again. He lowered his voice further, leaning even closer, practically whispering in Henson’s ear. “I’m not walking out of this precinct alive.”

Henson’s eyes widened. “What?”

“You heard me,” Utah said tapping his fingers on the table. “That’s my plan. I’m done with life and waiting for it to end. But I have one favor to ask of you.”

“What’s that?”

“I need you to go to my apartment. My roommate, Sun Kim, he moved in with me. He’ll be worried about me. There’s nothing worse than waiting for someone who will never come back. Trust me, I know.”

“Go there and tell him what happened. And find a box under my bed. I have a lot of things in there for him. Stuff to prepare him for his future, stuff that will help him. Can you do that for me?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Henson replied.

“Thank you,” Utah said politely with no traces of sarcasm. “I would very much appreciate that, Doctor Henson.”

Henson took one last look at Utah and felt profound sadness for the child. Utah may have been twenty-one in age, but the man was still very much a child, clinging to the past, clinging to revenge, clinging to fifteen years of nightmares.

He made a few more notes and left the room, leaving Utah by himself. He joined the detectives and the D.A. and looked at them, feeling weary. “Did you hear all that?”

Martin nodded numbly. “Wow,” he breathed. He searched for more words to say. “Um, shit, I can’t believe that.”

“What’s going to happen to him?” Henson asked. “Let’s face it; he was affected by his past, but not enough for an insanity defense to hold up. Utah knew exactly what he was doing. He planned everything out in great detail.”

“I know, I have no idea what Casey was thinking,” Martin murmured. “He knew he would lose. Unless he wanted us to hear Utah’s story…” he mused, staring through the double sided mirror as two officers escorted Utah out of the room.

“Can you cut him a deal?”

Martin sighed. “That’s…” he broke off, scratching his neck. “I think I can work something out, but he’ll have to serve time. Not a life sentence, but definite time. He could get early parole with good behavior. I could put in a good…”

Loud shots rang out.

Henson was the first one out the door, followed by Martin and the two detectives.

“I’m not walking out of this precinct alive.”

Henson needed to confirm his fears.

******

The gun was still in Utah’s hand, locked in his grip even as the life faded from his body.

It had been easy to snatch it from the officer’s holster. He saw himself moving in slow motion, his limbs heavy, yet his mind alarmingly alert.

He held the gun up, aiming at another officer. He admired how quickly the other detectives and officers in the precinct had retrieved their weapons.

Utah aimed at the officer, his elbow locked, his hand unwavering. He shifted his aim one inch to the right. He fired. The bullet tore into the wall. That was all it took for the men in uniform to begin shooting. Utah had been counting on that.

The first bullet tore into his shoulder. Utah grunted, the pain seizing his torso. The second bullet pierced his stomach, the pain now burning his insides. The third one struck his chest, paralyzing him. Utah let out a garbled cry, his eyes rolling. As his eyes swept the room, he saw Henson enter the doorway. He saw the horror on the older man’s face as more bullets pounded his lean body, making him convulse awkwardly. He was amazed at how many bullets his body could absorb.

The corners of Utah’s mouth curled upward as his legs lost all feeling and gave out. He kept his gaze locked with Henson’s for as long as possible. Henson was mouthing something, but Utah couldn’t make out the words.

“Stop shooting!” Henson shouted. “No! Stop!” He saw the raw pain in Utah’s dark eyes. But he also saw the relief. Tears came to Henson’s eyes when a tiny rivulet of blood oozed from Utah’s open mouth. “No!”

Utah collapsed onto the cold tiles, slamming down on his back with his full weight. The air was knocked out of him, but after that, he couldn’t feel anything. His eyes stared up at the white ceiling. He counted the leak stains; there were two large ones. His heart pounded in his ears. It was extremely cold. His skin felt clammy. It was getting harder to see, harder to take in a breath.

Henson’s face was in front of him. Utah’s hand shakily moved towards Henson’s face. He briefly wondered if Henson was real or if this was another bad dream. Opening his mouth to speak, no words came out. Something thick was in his throat preventing him from speaking, obstructing his breathing. Henson’s lips were moving. What the hell was he saying?

Henson grabbed Utah’s freezing hand and squeezed. “Stay with me, Utah! Stay with me, kid! Come on now!” he yelled. “Damn it! Someone get a bus! Don’t just stand there! Get him some help!” he shouted.

Their eyes locked. Utah could only hope that Henson would contact Sun. He tried to communicate that message with his eyes. His lips trembled as he tried to form words.

He struggled to breathe. He coughed. A small shower of red sprayed his face. He was too tired to keep his eyes open. He could no longer feel his limbs. He could no longer feel anything except relief, relief that it was all over. No more waiting for his mother. No more waiting for death. He was finally free from his burden. It was time to sleep.

Turning his head to the side, he closed his eyes.

******

“Can I help you?” Sun asked cautiously as he opened the door a crack.

“Are you Sun Kim?”

“Yes,” Sun said hesitantly. “Why?”

“This is about Utah Rowen…” Henson began.

At those words Sun threw open the door, his eyes wide. “Utah! Where is he? Is he okay? What happened?” he asked in a rush.

“May I come in?” Henson asked.

Sun sensed the solemn tone in Henson’s voice. “Sure,” he stammered.

Henson surveyed the small apartment, old and not the nicest, but it was clean and organized. It was simple, exactly how he imagined Utah lived his life. “Which room is Utah’s?” He needed to get this over with.

“There’s only one bedroom,” Sun explained. “That door over there,” he pointed. “Is the bathroom. We share the bedroom. He takes the bed and I use the futon or sometimes this couch here. I moved in a few…”

Henson walked purposefully towards the bedroom.

“Hey! Wait, where are you going?” Sun called after him.

Henson entered the room, which was slightly cluttered with clothes and books, but none of the things most young guys had in their possession. His chest tightened sadly as he fumbled under the bed. He stretched his arm further, pushing past dumbbells and shoeboxes. He pulled three shoe boxes out from under the bed. All were covered in dust.

One box had fingertip marks among the dust. Tearing it open, he rummaged through the contents. There was a letter addressed to Sun, several college brochures, an envelope of cash, a piece of paper with a phone number belonging to someone named Aden, a journal of some sorts, and lastly, a detailed list of things for Sun to do, such as when to pay the rent each month, to get his own cell phone plan, and apply to college. Henson almost smiled at the detailed instructions. Utah must have been a bossy guy.

“What is that?” Sun’s quiet voice broke into Henson’s thoughts.

“This is for you,” Henson said standing slowly. He handed the box to Sun. “I, um, I left the other thing in my car. I’ll be right back.”

Sun didn’t register Henson leaving. He was skimming the envelope of cash, the check written out to him, the diary, and the college brochures. He carefully unfolded the letter and sank onto the bed to read.

Dear Sun,

You know I’m not a huge talker. I’ve never been one to tell someone my thoughts and feelings. I was always in my head too much and it was easier to write everything down. I’m a fan of journals. Okay, a diary. I know, how gay, right? But read it when you have the time. I hope it will help you understand me more and why I did what I did. Don’t skip to the last entry. You have to read it all to make sense of anything. Trust me on that. I barely make sense to myself.

Even if you didn’t really know me, I still consider you my best friend, my brother. My family, really. I don’t have any, as you already know. I wish I was strong enough to guide you, but I know you’re strong enough to guide yourself. But there’s nothing wrong with me giving you a little help, right? I took care of some stuff. Starting next month, the lease will be in your name. The landlord can be a real douche, but he’s kind of soft once you get to know him. He doesn’t care about much as long as everything is legal and he gets his money every month. I closed my bank accounts. The check is for you to deposit. It’s enough for at least four months of rent if not more, since you have a job and everything. The cash is for food.

I’m about to do something horrible, Sun. I have one request of you: don’t hate me. What you’re going to read will make me seem like some kind of monster. But it will all make sense in time, especially after you read the journal. I have a demon in me, Sun. I can’t stop thinking at night, of the blood, of the screams. I can’t forget her promise, I can’t forget the past. You told me you admired me for always sticking to what I felt was right. Well, I feel in my heart that what I’m about to do is right. I hope after you read everything, you’ll feel the same way. If you don’t, I understand. You’ll always be my little brother.

I did this for my mother. I saw the opportunity God had given me and I took it. I still remember that night when I was waiting for her to come down to me. I waited and waited, but she never came.

Sun didn’t realize he had been crying. His tears were dripping onto the pages, smearing the black ink.

“This is for you.” Henson had been watching Sun read the letter. Sun looked up at the bag dangling in front of his face. Henson read the unspoken question in his eyes. “It’s Utah’s things. His cell phone. His clothes, his shoes…”

Sun took the bag automatically. He laid it on the bed numbly.

“I’m sorry, Sun,” Henson said. His eyes were red. “I had to come here. He asked me to.”

“You spoke to him?”

“I was with him, until…” Henson didn’t have to finish his sentence. Sun bowed his head in acknowledgement. He finished the remainder of the letter through his tears. Henson stood opposite him, watching silently.

Sun started weeping at the last line. “No, shit,” he sobbed. “I know. I know! I know that, Utah! I know that now, you bastard! Fuck you!” He threw the box to the ground, the letter chucked aside onto the bed. Sun ran to the bathroom.

Henson could hear distinct sounds of vomiting and crying. He picked up the handwritten letter and ran his eyes to the last line.

There’s nothing worse than waiting for someone who will never come back. Forgive me, Sun, because I’m finally done waiting.