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It’s funny how life goes some times. I mean, that’s a twisted way to look at it considering what happened to my life. I kind of wonder why I busted my ass all those hours at school and after school, between schoolwork, working out, volunteering and working with Blitz, after all, I didn’t get to savour any of the fruits of my labour. I don’t regret it though.
I had this hooded sweatshirt, it wasn’t mine, it was a guy I’d totally fallen for. He’d given it to me to borrow, this big ass thing. We got into a fight. It didn’t work out between us, he hated me. He didn’t even want to put up with me for five minutes to return the sweater, so I didn’t. We went to different schools, he was easily avoidable. Yet we always ran into each other. Never did either of us date.
You might think I’m off topic, but I’m not. You have to know some of these things, even though they were a year before the somewhat important part of my story begins.
Anyways, this guy, his name was Bryce. I loved him to death, or at least, I’m not sure. To this day I’m still not sure. I never felt that way about anyone else, so maybe I did. And since it carried on into the afterlife, I suppose maybe I did. And maybe, despite his mean words, he did love me. I did save his ass multiple times.
Bryce wasn’t my type, and as many of my friends pointed out, completely beneath me in this “league” system. I wasn’t popular, but I had my share of guys who were after me, they liked the “I tell it how it is” attitude, while the girls hated it. I had maybe two friends. They were pretty cool, but I’ll get into them later. I was tall, average, curvy with dark hair and super pale with black eyes, I was pretty funny looking considering most people in our area were blonde or mousy brown or fake black hair with gross tans and they all had the same freakishly blue or green eyes with weirdo round faces with huge cheekbones. Anyways, I was different, so I stuck out, in my early days, it was in a bad way, in my teenage years, I figured out I was quite powerful. Bryce was about my height, a tiny bit taller, he looked of no particular race and had bad acne. He was shy, quiet and self conscious. I was more into the tall, built, guy who could figure out things to talk about with me, yet I found Bryce irresistible. We could sit in silent and be completely okay.
We watched Troy one day, that movie with Brad Pitt trying to be all macho, and I just couldn’t manage to watch it after he left my life.
So, a few months after he left my life. I noticed I’d gained quite a bit of weight. So in my fear of not being attractive to him (because I was a teenage girl and my life focused around impressing a guy I never saw and didn’t talk to and wouldn’t know what to say even if I had occasion to talk to him), I joined a gym and I started working out. I volunteered at a centre for dogs, cleaning up after puppies three days a week for free was a pretty sweet deal for me. In between the volunteering and working out, I pulled up my 60 average marks to a 93 average, pretty impressive right?
See, if I just do my work, I can get good marks, if I try, I can get amazing marks. I’m not a dumbass; I just have a lazy streak.
In comes Blitz. In working at the dog centre, I was confronted with dogs all those days. One owner brought in her 8 month old Doberman puppy one day, being a huge fan of the breed, I fell in love instantly with this dog by the name of Tyson. They were at their wits end with him. Apparently he was aggressive and ate everything in their house. Not being a trainer, I stayed out of it, but I became quite attached with the dog. I figured out that he wasn’t a bad dog, he was just bored out of his mind.
Then the week came when they said they couldn’t take it anymore and they wanted to get rid of him. So without thinking and without consulting my mother, I said I’d take him. Let me tell you, getting on public transportation with a 60 pound jumpy Doberman pup is not easy, but somehow, I got all the way back home with the beast and my mom was a little surprised.
Lucky for me, she let me keep him so long as he behaved. And with work, he did. He’d just needed a job to do. I worked with him constantly. I took him for runs with me which he loved, but he wasn’t that stimulated by them mentally so we got into getting him do chores around the house. While I did laundry, he pulled clothes out of the dryer and put them in this doggy backpack I’d got for him, then, I’d strap it on him, and he’d carry it up stairs. It was great. I forgot to mention, I didn’t like the name Tyson because our neighbour’s dog was named Tyson, and so we renamed him Blitz, just a spur of the moment thing. It worked fine.
From the outside looking in on those months, well, that year. I was doing better then I’d ever done. Yet something was missing for me. I was so numb. I lost my two best friends. One decided that her boyfriend was way more important and somehow decided I was a boyfriend stealing hoe, so we stopped talking. The other, just followed her and we barely talked. My life centered on volunteering, Blitz, school and working out. I had little else to live for.
At night though, that was a different story. Often, though it’s embarrassing to admit. I’d find myself curled up with Bryce’s sweater, sobbing. I missed him. I could hide it from the world better, but I couldn’t get over how empty I felt. Blitz licked many tears off my face, that silly dog.
Then the day came that wasn’t life altering. It was life ending.
My mom had gone out of town for the day, but decided to stay another day, which would mean I had to sleep at the house alone for one night. She wasn’t worried, mainly because, we live in some weird neighbourhood that has a bunch of retired old poops who stare out their front windows all day and most of the night looking for strange vehicles. People new to the neighbourhood would thing it was unsafe because at least every other night there’s a cop car roaming around, but that’s because the old ones saw a car that wasn’t familiar, usually it was just a wrong turn or their eyes were just going. Another reason was, I had a dog that was now a ninety pound well muscled Doberman Pinscher that didn’t let anyone near me without a dirty look or growl.
I wasn’t worried at all, after she told me, I went to the gym, worked out, walked back home at around ten, then I took Blitz out for his evening walk. When we got back to the house, I checked, made sure all the doors were locked and the windows on the main floor were closed. I left my mom’s windows at the front open, but they had a screen on them so I had thought it would be alright. It wasn’t.
I went up to the bathroom, showered, then climbed into bed. Blitz lay down beside me on the bed, the usual rule breaker that he was.
That night, I just couldn’t sleep, it was around one when I heard kind of a knocking sound. Blitz went on the alert. He climbed off the bed and I could hear him growling. There was a wind outside, so I figured it was just the tree at the front hitting the windows of my mom’s room, so I told him to settle down. I lay back down and he lay down on the floor, completely on alert, which was odd for him. I don’t know why I didn’t pick up on it then. A few seconds later, we heard a tearing sound, my heart started beating quickly, Blitz lifted himself off the floor and ran into my mom’s room. I was frozen, just sitting in bed.
I heard Blitz’s deep barks and snarling. I heard a thud as something fell. Blitz kept barking, things kept falling. I didn’t want to turn the light on, I knew someone was in the house. I ran my hands through the bed, looking for my phone. Shit. It was downstairs, I’d left it on the stairs when I’d come in. I got off the bed, and crept to the door. I could still hear Blitz snarling and muffled grunts as whoever was in the house was being attacked. I took a deep breath and ran down the stairs, screaming my head off so the neighbours in the house attached to us would hear.
They were in Costa Rica.
I heard Blitz yelp and more crashing. Just as I reached the phone downstairs, I heard heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. I frantically dialled 911 but fell when whoever it was crashed into me. I screamed for Blitz. I screamed for help. Nothing came. I wasn’t scared for myself, the only thing running through my mind was that he’d hurt my dog, or possibly killed him. I yelled at him, I hit him. I told him I’d fucking kill him if he’d hurt my dog. He laughed, flashing a knife in my face. “Shut the fuck up. Your dog’s dead. Your neighbours are gone. You’re mine.”
I wish he’d slit my throat that second. I wish he’d just killed me. Instead, he made me walk upstairs. As we got to the landing outside my room and my mom’s room, I saw Blitz’s back legs, lifeless. My baby. I screamed out when I saw and tried feebly to fight the man.
He pushed me into my room. Bryce’s hoodie was in my bed. The man threw me, face down onto the bed. I held the hoodie close to me. I cried into the hood while the man pulled my shorts down. I screamed into the sweater when he pushed himself into me. I felt like I was being ripped apart. When he was done, he fell down beside me, his hands wrapping around my hair so I was pinned there beside him while he rested. I could feel blood running down between my legs onto the sheets.
I lay there, still. I pressed my face into the hoodie, trying to think of Bryce and only Bryce. Maybe then it wouldn’t be so bad. When the man came to, he flipped me over. I closed my eyes. He pushed himself into me again. I screamed, I started gagging. He punched me in the stomach. Then he started punching me in the face. I fell unconscious.
In my dream. I felt nothing. In my dream, I was sitting there, watching Troy with Bryce. We were cuddled up on his bed watching it on his laptop. His lips were against my cheek. He smelled so good.
I woke up. He was still on top of me, he was just finishing. I cried quietly. He smelled terrible. Like sweat. He got up, I wished he’d just leave. But he didn’t. He came at me again, this time, he stabbed me. I screamed every time he did until I couldn’t anymore.
Then he left.
I lay there, bleeding. I could barely move. I gasped for breath. Everything was on fire. I pushed my face into the hoodie. I closed my eyes.
--
Now I’m here. Though I’m not sure where here is exactly. I left my body. I stood over myself, just watching myself. I looked around the room, everything was as it always was. The bookshelves stuffed with dog information books. Blitz’s barely used dog bed in the corner. Dog paintings on the wall. The bed was covered in blood. I walked closer to myself, I was holding the hoodie still. Then I looked down at myself in this new form, I was wearing it, with a thin white dress underneath. No blood was on me. I walked into the bathroom, I looked in the mirror. Nothing looked back.
I walked slowly into the hall again, and bent down. There was Blitz’s body. I put my hand down on him, felt his fur, so soft. I wondered where he was. Instinctively, I thought, Beautiful Joe’s Paradise, a book I’d grown up with. He was in dog heaven, I didn’t know where I was, but this couldn’t be heaven.
I curled up on the floor and shut my eyes. When I awoke, my mom was there. Police were there. They were taking my body out. My mom was sobbing. Neighbours were weeping, ha, as if they’d ever liked me anyways.
I made the six o’clock news. And the eight AM news on Monday morning. Everyone at my school knew about it. I walked through the halls of the school I hated. No one had known me, yet, there was this shrine with a picture of me they’d cut of the newspaper, my facebook picture. Oh well, at least it wasn’t my school picture. People I never even knew were talking to news reporters about all the good times with me. There were like, ten people wanting to see a guidance counsellor to help get over their “grief”. I sat in on the sessions, just watching. I sat on the counsellor’s desk while he talked to the sobbing attention seekers.
I got quite a kick out of one of them. It was this girl from my history class. I hated her with a passion. She was annoying, ignorant and stupid. She was the biggest mooch ever and had stolen food and pencils from me regularly. I didn’t like her, and I’d made it obvious. She’d spread shit about me. Now here she was, discussing how she’d been my best friend. Yeah, okay. Fuck off bitch.
Another girl, was this chick I’d never talked to in my life. She was crying in front of the cameras about how she’d miss eating lunch with me every day. Are you kidding me? I stayed in the computer lab working on Photoshop everyday at lunch.
I left the school. I didn’t want to see these people mourn about me who hadn’t even liked me. I didn’t expect them to care nor did I want them to care. Why should they care when I can’t appreciate it? I walked around a bit.
I didn’t walk long, but somehow I got to the other end of the city. Bryce’s area. He was sitting in class. I watched him there, he didn’t know about it. He went through his classes quietly. When I was alive, I couldn’t get close to him because I was scared he’d get mad. Now, I could stand right behind him; smell the familiar smell, the comforting smell of him. I could listen to his voice when he answered a question in class. I wrapped his sweater around me tightly, as if I was hugging him.
That night, when he got home, I was with him, but he didn’t know. He sat down in the dark living room with his dad, they always watched the news on Mondays, why not other days of the week, I’m not sure, they were just odd, but I liked it.
The TV flashed the breaking news. “Teen Brutally Raped, Beaten and Killed in her own home!” My picture showed up on screen. I was wearing his hoodie in that picture. His dad looked shocked, “Bryce, that’s her.” Bryce’s eyes glued to the screen. He said nothing as they went through the story. He listened to how the man had killed Blitz. Raped me over and over again. Beaten me. Then stabbed me to death. They showed a picture of me being covered with that white sheet, his hoodie peaking out. He stood up and ran upstairs, his dad stayed behind, shocked.
I followed Bryce upstairs. He slammed the door to his room. He stood there for a minute. He took off his hat and through it at the wall. He picked up magazines and books and CDs and threw them against the wall. He threw everything he could get. He was crying. I moved as close to him as I could. I put my hand out but felt nothing. I cried out, he couldn’t hear me. I screamed at him just because I knew he couldn’t hear me. He raged around until he just sat down against the wall. Running his fingers through his hair, crying. Rocking back and forth mumbling. “Why?...Why?...Why?”
I crouched down beside him. I knew he wouldn’t feel me, so I just took my hand wiped his tears off his cheeks. He looked shocked, as if air had just whipped him in the face. I watched his confusion mingle with his sorrow. He stood up and crawled over to his bed. Pulling back the covers and curling up into a ball. I was crying now. I wanted to tell him it was okay, I was here with him.
I moved closer to the bed. I slipped under the covers beside him. He flipped over quickly. His eyes went wide. It was then, that he saw me. “No...” He whispered. Reaching his hand out to my face. I felt the familiar hand caressing my cheek. I felt tears burn in my eyes. “Do you still hate me?” I whispered. He pulled himself closer to me, staring. “You’re dead though...no...I had to though, for your own good.” I pushed closer to him. “I am dead.” Tears fell from my eyes. As if me saying it made it real. I didn’t understand why he could see me but I wasn’t complaining. “Is it true what the news said? Did that fucker rape you?” I nodded. He pulled me close to him. I sobbed into his chest. “What’s going on?” he asked. “I have no idea.” I laughed. He smiled. Oh god. That smile.