Planning of a Death

November 18, 2008
By Justin Meek, Cedar Springs, MI

The smell of my father’s arrogant presence filled the air. What had we done? What had I done? As I scrambled to hide the bodies, my mind went into shock. My life was passing before my eyes, and I was only 17. My brain quickly reverted back to how this started.

As of two weeks ago, everything in my life was going great. I was entering my senior year at Mill Creek High School, and I had just started to think about my future. I wondered what the world had to offer me, and how I could get there. My father, Jefferson Thompson, had always wanted me to take over the family business. I didn't want to become the man my father was. He was never at home to see, or even enjoy, any of his family. Jefferson owned a giant marketing company named Schism Marketing. My name was Teddy Thompson, and I wanted to live the life of Teddy Thompson. I didn’t want to follow in Jefferson’s footsteps.

It was August 5th of 2013 when Jefferson and I stumbled into our largest fight ever. He was supposed to take me to the Sacramento Mariners game, but he had to work late again. I grew more and more agitated by the second. He had failed me once again. When he finally returned home, I couldn’t hold my anger in. I burst into a raging fire-ball of suppressed hatred. Suddenly his fist crashed into my face, and I found myself lying on the ground. Everything was pitch black.

When I awoke, it was early morning. My mother was sitting on the chair watching me. She explained how Jefferson had punched me but didn’t mean to. I didn’t believe her. My mother may have been the nicest person in the world, but she was a terrible liar. Jefferson had always been an over-controlling jerk, and he never had any feelings. “I’ve had it!” I shouted, “I’m moving out and living with Alex!”

My mother didn’t know what to say, she was speechless. As she sat on the floor crying, I started gathering my possessions. When I finished, I called Alex to let her know. By the time I was ready to go, my mother was nowhere in sight. She knew this day would come, and she wouldn’t be able to stop me. I threw my belongings into my truck and headed towards Alex’s house. She only lived a few miles away, but this short trip seemed like it lasted a lifetime.

Alex Friedman was my best friend, and we had been planning this day for a long time. When I arrived, the Friedman’s were waiting with open arms. The Friedman’s were the type of family that actually cared, and the best part was that they trusted me. They trusted me not only as a person but also with their daughter. Alexis Rose Friedman was the type of girl everyone wanted: light blonde hair, beautiful blue eyes, the longest pair of legs I had ever seen, and she had the best personality anyone could ask for. Alex was the perfect girl, but it’s too bad we were just friends.
Alex and I met two years ago at the local ice cream shop. I bumped into her, and she spilled her medium twist everywhere. After I bought her another cone, we hit it off. Ever since then, we had been best friends. Even though we agreed to stay friends, I felt there could have been something much deeper. I only wish she would have embraced me as much more than a friend.

When I entered the house, I could picture my mother and how sad she probably was. I was still going to see my mother, but Jefferson had seen the last of me. I couldn’t let him control my life anymore. After I got settled in my new room, more hatred began to set in. I despised everything about Jefferson. The way he walked, talked, ate, and, most of all, I hated how he put his job before his family.

Everything was going to change with my new family. Alex’s parents, Gloria and Stephen, were great people. Stephen always went out of his way to call me and ask how I was doing. Gloria was an angel, and she reminded me a lot of my mother. She was a simple person who didn’t believe money could buy everything. She believed that if god wanted someone to look a certain way, then it shouldn’t be reversed by purchasing fancy clothing or expensive skincare.
As I was trying to fall asleep, I heard a quiet tapping on my bedroom door. Alex stood at the doorway, glowing with her overall perfect essence. Alex and I talked for hours that night. Before we knew it, daylight was creeping up on the horizon. When we both realized the time, we decided it was time to get some sleep.

The problem was that I couldn’t fall asleep. All I could think about was my mother. I soon thought about how she was going to be home alone with Jefferson now. When I comprehended this horror, I had the overwhelming urge to kill Jefferson. No, I couldn’t do that! I had to do it. It was the right solution for my problem. I had to free my mother from Jefferson’s horrible reign.

I decided to share my idea with Alex the next night, after all Alex had also suffered emotional scars caused by Jefferson. She never wanted to discuss the full details of her encounter with Jefferson because he threatened to kill her. Alex had only told me that Jefferson believed she interfered with my life goals and aspirations. I knew there would be a time and day for her to explain it all, so I just kept quiet. At first she was disgusted by my idea to bury Jefferson six feet deep. Once she reminisced about her run-in with Jefferson, and heard the overall sadness in my voice, she knew what had to be done. We both talked about other options that might work, but none of them would get rid of Jefferson forever.

For the next week, we planned out how we were going to kill Jefferson. It was going to be on August 14th, a Saturday. Every Saturday for as long as I could remember, Jefferson woke up at 5:30 am, took a shower, and was out the door by 6:30 am. Jefferson stayed in the office on Saturdays, so he would get back around 7-8 pm every night. He would then set up for his weekly poker party with his “important co-workers,” which started at 10:00 pm sharp. With my mother gone every Saturday to play tennis and watch movies, 8-9 pm was our perfect opportunity. Stephen was an avid gun collector, so the weapon part wouldn't be a problem. We were going to into my old house, point a gun at Jefferson, and force him to write his suicide note. Jefferson was a passive drunk, so we couldn't see him retaliating. After this, Alex would get Jefferson's prized Colt .45 and make him shoot himself. It seemed like a perfect plan.

I didn't get much sleep that Friday night because I couldn't wait for Jefferson to be gone. It was like the night before a little child's first day of school. When Saturday arrived, I was so amped up that my mother would be free from Satan's spawn. Jefferson Satan Jr. had a nice ring to it. Around 7:00 pm that night, Alex and I gathered the materials: one gun to start, then bullets, gloves, and black clothing. Luckily Gloria and Stephen were at the casino, so we were in the clear.

Alex and I decided to walk there to erase any tracks of our presence. When we arrived at Lucifer's residence, I oddly wasn't having any second thoughts. We stalked up to the house, looking around our every step. When we were twenty yards away from hell, we could see Jefferson in the library window. “Perfect, “ I thought. We could enter through the front door, then grab Jefferson's gun and proceed to his suicide. When this was done, Alex and I could go back home. Soon enough we could all live in peace.

We slowly crept up the stairs which seemed louder than ever at the moment. We entered the Devil's lair and scurried over to the gun closet. I couldn't remember the combination right away, but once I remembered how much of a narcissistic prick Jefferson was, the numbers started to feed through my sweaty fingertips. 6-16-68, his birthday. I was wearing gloves, so it took a few tries to get the numbers spot-on. It opened with a small click, which at the time sounded like a car had just crashed into a brick wall. Alex grabbed the handgun, and we headed upstairs. When we entered the library, Jefferson was reading a book. Startled by the sight of me with a gun, he jumped and flailed his arms up in the air as if he were under arrest. I didn’t say a word to him, but he was quick to apologize for the years of neglect. At this point in time I felt Jefferson may have a heart after all. I couldn’t fall into his little trap though, so I shut him up with a cock of the gun. We explained to him how horrible of a father he had been, and how he was going to take his own life for the sake of his family. It seemed as if Jefferson understood how I was right, and the only way to make the pain disappear was to kill himself. I pointed the gun at Jefferson, and he began to write his suicide note. When it was complete, I read it over to make sure there was no mention of Alex or I. Alex then handed him the gun. About as quickly as this all started, it was about to end.

There was something that surprised me about Jefferson. The look he had in his eyes was one that I had never seen before. It was the look of fear and anger. Jefferson wasn’t going to let me push him around. He suddenly punched Alex in the face and shot her right through the chest. I quickly reacted and aimed my gun at Jefferson’s head. It seemed like we were pointing our guns at each other for hours on end. All of a sudden, we both pulled our triggers simultaneously. Everything was black once again.

I quickly regained consciousness and noticed his bullet went merely through my arm. I searched the room for Alex and my father. I saw Alex with a bullet hole straight through her heart. The very heart that belonged to me was shattered by my own arrogance. Then I spotted my dad’s body with no head. I panicked. The smell of my father’s arrogant presence filled the air. What had we done? What had I done? I knew this was the end of the road. I scrambled to hide the bodies, but it was no use. I wasn’t getting out of this hole. There was only one option. I grabbed a pen and paper, and started to write my suicide note. This was the end of my incomplete life.

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This article has 1 comment.

ctownruckus said...
on Apr. 22 2009 at 3:17 am
very good and thrilling

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