“I’ll cut your fucking arm off,” I heard Fern scream hoarsely behind me at the guards. “Come onto this stage and I swear to god I will.”
I faced Balthazar. Beneath us I heard a loud shuddering — the crowd was pushing at the barricade. There was a feeling rising in the air, a coppery taste in my mouth. I guess it was blood lust. I stared into his blue eyes. I saw fear in them, and it made me laugh out loud.
“Wait,” he said, holding his hands out. “Put that down.”
“Grow the fuck up,” I said, the same words he’d spat at me back when this whole mess got started. “I thought you were sick of boring girls.”
Something clicked into place for him, registering in his eyes. But it wasn’t about me. It was a phrase he used often. Because even though he didn’t remember that night, he knew exactly what I was talking about.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Me too,” I replied, and swung the axe as hard as I could.
Balthazar’s head flew into the air. And then everything went insane.
My face hit the stage floor. Two security guards had tackled me. Their weight kept me pressed down. I was able to lift my head far enough to see Fern. She’d dropped the sword and was climbing the scaffolding on the front of the stage, her long white hair soaked with blood.
I screamed her name.
She looked down at me.
People speculate about what Fern intended to do on that scaffolding, why she jumped into the crowd. A lot of people seem to think that she was trying to escape. Crowd surf to freedom, or something ridiculous. But I knew what that crowd would do to her. And so did she. And when our eyes locked, me on the floor, her in the air, she smiled.
A word passed between us.
Goodbye.
I watched her fall. Watched the crowd swarm, bloodthirsty, ruthless. I heard Edgar’s strangled scream. And I cried.
FIFTY-SIX
I ended up in a small room, staring at my blood-streaked reflection in the mirror that covered one wall, with a cop trying to talk to me, me crying all over my cigarettes because I couldn’t believe what Fern had done to herself.
xXx
So now, here I am. My parents won’t talk to me right now, and Melissa won’t either. I’m hoping it’s just because my parents won’t let her, and not because she hates me. Socks and Edgar haven’t spoken to me. The only people I really talk to are my psychologist, and the girl I share my cell with — but she’s crazy. We don’t have much in common, but we get along okay, I guess.
I think back over the events of that night, you know, and I do that whole thing where I’m re-thinking everything I said. Like, when Balthazar said, “I’m sorry,” I wish I’d said something witty. It’s like when you’re in an argument, or someone says something shitty to you in the street or something, your brain works overtime after the fact to give you something awesome you wish you’d said. I hadn’t walked myself through the events before they happened, I hadn’t given myself time to plan. I think that right up until Fern walked onstage, I didn’t really believe we were going to go through with it.
It’s a bummer. Colostomy Hag got to the point where things were picking up, and we’d all worked so hard to get there, and now it’s nothing. The whole thing is spoiled. I’m sorry for Edgar. I’m sorry for Socks. The point was never to ruin anyone’s life or waste anyone’s time. The point was just revenge.
Sometimes I wish that I could have somehow stopped Fern from jumping into that crowd, even though I know there was no way back for her. But why did I feel there was a way back for me? Should I have jumped? Why do I feel like I can happily live with what I’ve done? Why do I feel such peace?
None of these questions are really meant to have answers. It’s just the stuff that cycles around in my mind. I don’t have that much else to do.
xXx