Because They Felt Like It

May 21, 2012
By , Webster City, IA
He could feel the power he had always yearned for, running the course of his body. Like an electrical shock leaping from vain to vain as it traveled further down. When it hit his feet the current didn’t run out but circulated back up. It felt as good as he had always imagined it would. Looking down on Sam, all curled up in the corner of Washington High’s library, he felt the current grow stronger.

“Didn’t see this one coming, did ya’ Sammy.” Elliot scoffed.

“Oh God, please no! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Sam stuttered. Tears had just begun to run down his face. Good, thought Elliot, tears have been running down my face for three years.

Elliot had been enrolled into Washington High’s sophomore class right in the middle of the school year. He knew not to expect much, most of these kids had been together since kindergarten and here he comes being forced upon them in the middle of their school year. Almost immediately he was out casted, but he had expected that. What he hadn’t expected was to be verbally abused every day. Names like loner, f*ggy little Chinese kid, and bongo lips, really got under his skin. He blew them off thinking: I’m the new kid, next year it’ll be different. When school started up again that fall he was confident this year would be different; there’d be fresh meat to pick on. This there was, but after two weeks freshman began to complain and parents got involved. Within the third week freshman were starting to be kept under lock and key. In the fourth week of school Elliot was the victim again. Only his junior year his classmates decided to add physical abuse to their routine.

As Elliot glared down at Sam he could recall the first time he had met him. It was the fourth week into junior year; Elliot had just taken a shower after gym class. He had an old faded green towel hanging from his hip bones, only exposing his torso up and the top of his knees down. As he eased his way towards his red painted gym locker his feet were sticking to the ground from the humidity. He had walked by several stuck out foots and had tried to avoid the shoulder checks, by the time he had arrived at his locker he remained unharmed; this happened every day. But as he reached for his lock he felt eyes on him. He rotated his head from side to side; all eyes were on him. That didn’t happen every day; Elliot chose to ignore it. He refocused on opening his locker. While gazing at his locker, he tried to construct a shield to keep the gawking eyes from bothering him. He inspected every inch of his locker half expecting ink to jet out as soon as he unlocked his locker. Only his locker wasn’t locked. The lock was lying on the ground next to one of his socks! Rage shot up through Elliot’s body; starting in his feet boiling, shooting up to his face. At that moment he honestly had enough rage to kill someone. Next thing he knew he fist was slamming into his red painted gym locker, leaving his fist an instant purple. He didn’t feel anything, the pain, the eyes, nothing. He spotted the pranksters standing in a back corner of the locker room practically rolling on the ground laughing. Within seconds Elliot was standing in front of them on his tip toes trying to look them in the eyes. The lead was 6’ 3’’ give or take with smiling bottom of the ocean dark blue eyes watering from how hard he was, shaggy towel dried copper hair, straight snowy teeth, and a tan that all girls try to get but instead get skin cancer. He held up a one manicured finger from behind his back while he tried to catch his breath. That enraged Elliot even more with on swift motion Elliot’s knuckles connected with the leader’s face, making him hit the ground with such force the ground shook and the locker room became shushed. The leader’s crew rapidly hurried over to their leader with simultaneous “Oh s*** Sam!” Instantaneously Sam scrambled to his feet stronger and sturdier than he seemed before. His smiling eyes sour along the edges glared at him, fingers curled up into fists at his side, mouth made into a defensive snarl.

“Give me my clothes.” Elliot demanded with a force that scared even him.

“Ha. You’re going to pay for that one.”

Like a snake striking Sam’s strike was rapid and deadly, grabbing Elliot by the throat and pinning him against the lockers. Elliot could feel his wind pipe constricting and his face being drained of all warmth turning into an ice blue.

“Didn’t see that one coming did ya’ ?” Sam screamed into his face, eyes razor sharp.

“Well, don’t kill him, Sam!” Sam’s grip loosened. I must look as bad as I feel, thought Elliot.

Just as Elliot began to relax Sam’s grip tightened and slammed Elliot’s left side into the locker row across from where he was being strangled. Elliot heard a crunch, almost like when you step on an oversized beetle, then felt an acute sensation in his rib.

“Ahh-“Elliot started to cry but soon was cut off by another excruciating pain. Sam was kicking him! All Elliot could do was lay shriveled up and watch, watch Sam break his bones and his hope. Sam must have spotted him watching him because the last thing he could remember was the red bottoms of Sam’s Jordan shoes landing on his face.

When Elliot had awoken his towel and clothes, not even that one sock, were around. Elliot had more than half a school day left with only college classes left, he couldn’t afford to miss. So Elliot did the only thing he could, layered himself in all the pride he had left and walked out of that locker room completely naked.

The memory made Elliot shiver. Starring at Sam now, remembering how brutal their first meeting had been, Elliot felt the river of rage inside of him grow stronger. Sam deserves this, insisted Elliot to himself, he needs to feel how I feel, empty, already dead.
“This is my final farewell to you Sam.”

“I’m sorry! I swear! Let me live and I’ll never hurt anyone ever again! Please!”

“Ha! Of course you’re sorry now, when I’m holding a gun to your head. Now look at me.” Elliot demanded.

Sam’s eyes trailed up Elliot’s body slowly and tremblingly, resting on the HK USP .45 held tightly in his hand, and continuing the journey up to his eyes. Good, Elliot wanted to see his face when he, himself drains all the life out of him.

“Why did you do it, why me?” Elliot asked.

“Yo-you were th-th-the new kid. I don’t know. I’m sorry!” Sam stammered.

“So, you did it because you felt like it.” Elliot was furious! His face a dangerous boiling red, one fist clenched tightly around the gun the other at his side.

“Yea- I mean no! No!” Sam cried.

“Then why!” Elliot demanded.

When Sam didn’t answer Elliot pointed the handgun at Sam’s head and pulled the trigger with a malevolent grin on spread across his face.
*
*
*
*

“What do you have for me, Alicia?” Detective Totes asked, walking briskly to interrogation room.

“School shooting, Arnold, eight killed. Question him; get his motives, where he got the gun, how he got it into the school. We need to prevent something like this from happening again. Eight 17 and 18 year olds killed.” Alicia explained as she handed Arnold the manila folder.

Arnold knocked on interrogation room number nine as he walked in. The room was many shades of grey, with light colored steel chairs and a steel table, dark grey speckled tiled floors, and storm cloud grey walls. Arnold never really appreciated these rooms; they always gave him the chills. There was a young boy probably about 17 years old leaning on the hind legs of the steel chair, he had unkempt shiny black hair, a fair complexion, and light green eyes that seemed to be devouring him. Great, thought Arnold, he probably knows more about me than I know about him. Arnold was always bad at reading people.

“Hello detective Totes.” Elliot simply stated.

Without an answer Arnold sunk into his chair and began to sort through the manila folder. He scattered pictures of Elliot’s victims over the table, bullet hole wounds battered the bodies of his victims. He has pretty good aim, thought Arnold. Elliot never missed their heads. The bullets made clean cuts through their heads, coming out on the opposite side.

“You did a number,” Arnold started, “are you proud of yourself?”

“This doesn’t have to be 20 questions, detective. Get to the point.” Elliot smartly replied. So he is proud of himself, thought Arnold, but why did he do it?

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Arnold staid while moving his finger in a checking motion in the air. Elliot remained calm and just sat there. “So, what’s your name kid?” Arnold had decided to start off easy.

“Elliot Sanders, tect.” Elliot grinned.

“Tect?” Arnold asked.

“Short for detective since I don’t know your name.” Elliot shrugged.

“Arnold, Arnold Totes.”

“Delighted to meet ya’ Arnold, just wish the circumstances were a better.”

“You mean you wish you wouldn’t have gotten caught?”

“No, no. I wish my gun would have had enough bullets, I wish I could have finished off Sam.”

“Eight kills isn’t enough for you?”

“Nine would have been better.”

“Why you so bent on this Sam kid? If you really wanted to make sure you shot him you could have started with him.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I would never start with him, even if I could go back and redo it.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to make sure he knew I was coming for him. I picked off his little crew one by one, just so he’d know it was me and I was after him.” Elliot leaned across the table to look Arnold straight in the eye with a crazed look and said, “Just knowing can be bloodcurdling.”

“Where’d you get the gun?”

“My dad is with the army, it wasn’t that hard.”

“No wander you’re such a good shot; was that you father son bonding?”

“Shut up.”

Ouch, sore subject, thought Arnold, we’ll see were this takes us. “Aww. Is that why you did it? Your daddy didn’t spend enough time with you? You were neglected as a kid and you wanted everyone else to feel the pain you feel every time you walk through the front door of your house?” Arnold knew he was pushing a sour subject but he didn’t have a choice this kid was playing him, it was time to turn the tables.

Elliot held Arnold’s gaze for an extensive amount of time. Then he let out a sigh and started entwining his fingers within each other. “I did it-“

“I’m listening,” Arnold urged.

Elliot sat up straighter, squared his shoulders, looked Arnold coldly in the eye and with a steady voice said, “I did it, because I felt like it.”





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