A Kiss for the EnemyA Story by MusicLove93
A boy is bullied throughout his entire life by a group of boys until his senior year when he finally snaps. He fantasizes and plots a way to kill them. One night, he gets his chance and takes it.
A Kiss for the Enemy
"Does the jury have a verdict?" The judge asked, his heavy, southern accent punched through the quiet murmurs of the courtroom.
A skinny man in an ill-fitting suit and glasses stood up and said, in a nasally voice, "We, the jury, find the defendant guilty on all six counts of first degree murder."
An excited murmur swept through the crowd only to be hushed soon after by the sharp crack of the judge’s mallet. "The defendant, James Petterson will be held for sentencing, take him away, bailiff."
At that point, the bailiff walked over to escort James out of the building. He tightened the cuffs around James’ wrists until they pinched, James let out a faint grunt of pain. "How does it feel to know you’ll spend the rest of your life behind bars?" The bailiff spat the words out like they were poison on his tongue.
James turned now, so he was facing the bailiff and with a cold, almost evil smile, he said, "They all deserved to die." James could see the shiver run down the bailiffs back before he was quickly ushered out the door.
I suppose now you are wondering how anyone could be so heartless as to kill six people without feeling any regret whatsoever. The truth is however, that he was not always this way. At one point, he was a kind, gentle, and happy young man who looked forward to life. James was good once, but he was different, and the other students at his school could tell. He didn’t like sports or video games, he’d rather be spending his time designing clothes or reading one of his favorite novels. He loved coming up with his own designs and dreamed of being a fashion designer one day.
James was picked on by the other students, six guys in particular. They were their own little gang and they loved to pick on James. That was their favorite game to play. Henry, the groups leader, was often the instigator. He’d use any excuse possible to start a fight.
"Hey, look who it is boys! Our favorite little f****t!" Henry would yell right before shoving James up against a wall or knocking him down onto the ground. His "boys" would all let out a shout of excitement and then hurry over to join in on the fun.
"Hey queer boy, how ‘bout you come play with us!" One of them would yell.
"Yeah, we’re about to play our most favorite game! Know what it is, f****t?" Shouted another.
"We’re about to play queer-ball and guess who is the MVP?" Sneered yet another one of Henry’s boys.
"It’s YOU!" Henry shouted as he shoved James into the gang and they all took turns pushing, punching, and kicking him until he was bloody and too weak to stand.
This happened weekly, but the insults and name calling happened daily. As a result, James grew very depressed; he even tried to kill himself on more than one occasion. He hated going to school, but even when he stayed home, he couldn’t get away. Henry and his boys didn’t live far and would often wait for him outside his house if they hadn’t had their daily fill of bullying.
By James’ senior year of high school, he had grown to hate the world he lived in, but he hated Henry and his gang the most. He often had elaborate dreams of killing them. It wasn’t long before those dreams turned into ideas. In class, his mindless doodles turned to thought-out plans. Intricate drawings of what he wanted to do to his tormentors. He became obsessed with the idea of killing them. One idea in particular involved him stabbing them to death and sealing their death with a lipstick kiss.
Soon, he started to get serious about the idea. He even bought himself a hunting knife, which he carried with him all the time, along with his own homemade lipstick, just in case he got the chance to use them. It wasn’t long before his chance came either. James was walking home from the store one night, he didn’t have a car, and took a shortcut through the forest next to his house. What he didn’t know was that Henry and his gang had been following close behind, waiting for a chance to jump him.
Almost home, James froze mid-step when he heard, "Hey queer-boy, wanna play?" from behind him. It was Henry. James knew it before he had even finished talking. Slowly, he turned around to look at them, his hand slowly reaching toward his right pocket where his knife was.
"Yeah, lets play a game. What game should we play, Willy?" Sneered one of Henry’s boys.
"Lets play some queer-ball! It’s so much fun. Wanna play, f****t?" The guy named Willy asked, an evil smile playing on his lips. His eyes glinted coldly in the feint moonlight that broke through the trees.
"N-n-no. I-I don’t want to play." James meekly replied.
"Aww, why not? You know we can’t play without you." Henry said, quite menacingly. His boys were now closing in on James. They circled him, leaving no way to escape.
"G-go find someone else to play your stupid games with Henry. One of these days it’ll be you who loses." James was feeling more confident now. His hand was firmly clasped around the handle of his knife, ready to strike at the first person who came after him.
"Oh is that so? Now why would you say that little f****t?" Asked one of they boys in a mocking tone.
"Yeah, whatcha gonna do? Slap us with your purse?" Said another as he stepped forward to push James.
He had barely taken a step before James attacked. He lunged forward, knife glinting in the moonlight only briefly before it sunk into the boy’s chest, right in the heart. The boy reeled back, blood oozing from the hole in his chest before he finally collapsed in a heap on the ground. The others looked from the boy, to James, who was standing quite still. His breathing was steady, his face showed no emotion other than pure hatred.
"You’re gonna pay for this f****t!" Yelled Henry, who had run over to the boy and was crouching over his body, "Get him!"
The other boys lunged for him, but James was fast. Years of dodging punches and kicks, along with the adrenaline rush, gave him the ability to easily avoid them. One boy got close enough to land a punch, but as soon as his fist made contact, he was down. Blood spurted from his neck as James pulled the knife out, spraying the near-by trees with a fine mist of red.
Another boy lunged and managed to knock James onto the ground, but James hit before the other boy and jumped up with the ease of a cat. They wrestled for only a few seconds before his knife made contact with the soft flesh of the boy’s stomach. Letting out a cry of pain, the boy stumbled backward. James, seeing his chance, lunged, stabbing him a second time. This time, he hit the target, the heart. The boy dropped to the ground.
James hardly had time to turn around before a third boy was there, but it was no use. James couldn’t be stopped now, he was out for blood. He lunged like a crazed animal and dug his knife deep into the boys chest. As he pulled it back out, blood spilled over the knife, spraying his face and covering his hand. He stood there for a moment, watching the life slip out of the boys eyes, before yet another boy attacked. He ran towards James, yelling incoherent words. He knocked James off his feet, his knife flew out of his hand. The boy straddled James and proceeded to punch him in the face, then chest, then anywhere his wild fists landed.
"You killed my brother, you little f****t! You’re gonna die!" He screamed as his fists flailed wildly. He was in such a blind rage that James easily over-powered him. Pushing the boy off, he jumped and grabbed the knife just in time as the boy was already rushing toward him again. He moved smoothly off to the side and watched the boy drop to the ground where he had previously stood. Before the boy had a chance to get up again though, James quickly stabbed him in the chest, not once, not twice, but three times before he finally stood again.
James stood there for a moment, drenched in blood and breathing heavily from fighting, but his face showed no emotion. He wasn’t scared of what he had done, or sad that they had died. If anything, he was relieved. He turned around and saw Henry hiding among the bushes. He smiled such an evil smile so full of hate that it sent chills down Henry’s spine. He knew his time was at an end.
"Wanna play a game, Henry?" James asked, his eyes ablaze with hate, they almost glowed in the moonlight. He stepped a little bit closer.
"Hey man, calm down. Y-you gotta know we never meant any of that stuff. I swear, if you let me go, I’ll never speak a word of this to anyone. I-I’ll disappear, you won’t ever see me again." Henry pleaded, fear was evident upon his face.
James stepped closer, "No Henry, you meant every insult. Every punch and kick. You know I can’t let you go." He was only a few feet away from Henry now. Close enough to touch him.
"Come on James. You don’t want to do th-"
"Oh but I do Henry. You don’t know just how long I’ve waited for this day. I’ve thought it all out. Just what I would do to you and the others. It’s a shame they all died so quickly though. I had hoped I would be able to....play a little game with you guys. But I suppose we can play with just you and I." James said, he had a slightly playful tone to his voice. Like he was toying with the boy.
"But...what are you planning on doing to me man?" Henry asked, his eyes growing larger and larger with fear.
At this point, James had stepped even closer. They were almost touching noses. He hadn’t realized how much taller he was than Henry until then. He brought his hand up and touched Henry’s face, gently brushing his fingers along the jawbone. He felt Henry start to pull away but then resist and stand still, "Why, didn’t you hear me the first time? We’re going to play a game." James then brought his other hand up and cupped Henry’s face and smiled. He brought his hands down over Henry’s chest and then pushed with such a sudden, unexpected force that Henry fell back onto the ground. That’s when James lunged. He got on top of Henry and proceeded to punch him in the face.
"Come on Henry, this is fun. Isn’t it? Aren’t we just having a blast?" James said in response to Henry’s shouts and cries of pain. Henry tried to fight back, but he was over-powered by James’ adrenaline powered strength.
Soon though, the punches weren’t enough, so James picked Henry up and pushed him up against a tree a few times then threw him back onto the ground and started kicking. Between kicks he laughed and said, "Now aren’t we having fun Henry? No? You seemed to think it was! You thought it was just the best game ever when it was you and your "boys" throwing the punches!"
James then reached for his knife, which had been lying on the ground only a few feet away until then. He picked it up and closed it, slipping it back into his left pocket as he took out a tube of lipstick from his other one. He opened the lid and paused to take a look at the color. It was a unique shade of lipstick, he had created it himself, not quite red, a little too much blue was in it. It looked almost to be purple, but not too purple. He smiled a little and put it on.
Henry let out a moan of pain from where he lay, too weak to stand. He rolled over and tried to sit up but found it hard to breathe, so he settled for leaning up against a nearby tree. He must have broken a rib or two. He looked up to see James putting on what looked like lipstick and wondered what he was planning to do to him now.
"You know Henry, I used to like you. Years and years ago, before you destroyed my life." James exclaimed as he walked back over to Henry. He bent down so he was at eye level with him.
"Y-you did?" Henry stammered. He was scared now, not knowing what James would do next. He didn’t notice that James had pulled out the knife again.
"Yes Henry, I did. But of course I wasn’t going to say anything. That would have been the death of me!" James laughed a little as he got closer to Henry, he grasped the knife tightly now, "I was heart broken when you and your friends started calling me names." James leaned in even closer now, so close that all he had to do was whisper, "And when you and your friends started beating me up...well, that was horrible. I wished I could just die so I wouldn’t have to feel the pain anymore."
"I-I’m sorry James." Breathed Henry.
James gave Henry a look full of emotion, his eyes growing misty. He leaned over and kissed Henry on the cheek, leaving a lipstick stain, "No Henry, you’re not." His voice trembled only slightly.
And with that, James plunged the blade into Henry’s chest. Henry stared at him with vacant eyes as his last breath escaped his lips. James took the blade out only to stab Henry again, and again, and yet, again. James stabbed him a total of five times in the chest and once in the stomach. The end result was that the stab marks formed the shape of a heart.
James stared at Henry’s body, bloody and lifeless, that now lay in a huddled mass on the ground. He didn’t quite know what to do now. He couldn’t run; people would surely know it was he who killed these guys, but he couldn’t just sit there and wait for someone to come find them either. He sat, thinking, for a few moments before finally standing up again. He wiped the blood off of his knife with his pant leg and put it away. Then, James walked over the where the rest of the boys’ bodies lay, carefully looked to see if he had dropped anything of his that could potentially link him to any of the boys. Finding none, he left, leaving the bodies exactly where they had fallen.
When he got home, he showered, changed, and went to bed. He didn’t have to worry about his father wondering where he had been, he was drunk, just as he has been much of James’ life.
The next day, he went to school like nothing had ever happened. The police investigated but couldn’t find enough evidence to charge him with murder for two whole years. His boyfriend had been arrested on drug charges and the officer who had arrested him was the same man who had investigated the murders. He found the lipstick in his pocket during a strip search for drugs. They then linked the lipstick back to James and arrested him.
Two months after James’ arrest, he went to trial and was found guilty. He was sentenced to life in prison, he had no chance of parole. He lived out the rest of his life behind bars, but never once did you hear him complain. The other inmates left him alone for the most part, and he was at peace with himself. He knew that he no longer had to live, knowing his tormentors were out there. They were gone, and they were never going to come back. James didn’t feel and regret about what he did. In his mind, they deserved to die. They caused him so much pain and he woke up every morning fearing this may be the day that they would go too far. This would be the day he might die, but not anymore. Now, he woke up every morning with a smile on his face. Sure, he may be confined to a cell for the majority of the time. But to him, that was the most freedom he had had in years.
© 2011 MusicLove93
Shelved in 1 LibraryAdded on August 5, 2011
Last Updated on August 11, 2011
AboutI've never really shared my writing with many people, never thought I was really any good I guess. But, I love writing and have been writing for forever. That and music and art are my passions. You wo.. more..
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