You Would Too- [Part 5]
Nathan came back first. Robert was in his room staring at the ceiling and listening to music, and I was studying. God knows why, I’ll probably never make it to graduation anyway. I smelled something like overpowering low tide mixed with garbage that hasn’t been taken out for a while. It started out faint, so I figured it was just Worcester. This city has shit-smelling air pockets every ten feet. You’ll just be walking down the street and all of a sudden a stench will hit you and you’ll have to hold your breath, or swerve and vomit. So I didn’t actually get up until the smell was right there outside the door. I looked into the kitchen and saw Nathan, dripping yellow shit that used to be god-knows what, and croaking like a frog.
I screamed. You would too, so shut up.
When he saw me (at least, noticed my presence…his eyes look like they turned to liquid and leaked out a long time ago) his croaking got worse, and he started to shuffle towards me. I slammed my door and backed up until I my bed tripped me. I scuttled as far away from the door as possible. After the initial scream, I started to shake like mad. The kind of shaking you do when all of your blood has been replaced by undiluted adrenaline. I could hear a thumping on the door, muffled croaking from Nathan, and vaguely I wondered where the hell Robert was.
I went to my window and tried to open it. Growling in frustration and crying in terror, I put all my weight into trying to open it, but it wouldn’t budge. It’s probably just as well, since I live on the third floor and all that lies in the alley outside my window is broken down cars and crack vials.
This will sound a little too convenient, but I swear it’s true. I keep a tool belt that is too large for me hung up on my wall, and I keep my tools, like hammers and tape measures and razor blades in it. So after I could finally figure out how to use my arms again, still shaking, I blindly swung my arms around, looking for some sort of weapon to protect myself with. All I got was mostly blanket and pillow, since I was on my bed in the corner, until I saw my tool belt. It took a lot of effort and even more adrenaline to make me get closer to the door to reach the tool belt. I grabbed my hammer, and turned quickly to find anything else to protect myself with. I must have looked comical, a hammer gripped in my left hand, standing in my socks, a T-shirt, and a pair of blue pants with fat penguins all over them, picking up things off my desk and out of my closet with my right hand, inspecting them for a split second, and flinging them over my shoulder. It didn’t even occur to me to smash the window with the hammer. I went through rulers and three-hole-punchers and empty M&M minis tubes and found nothing but a pair of chopsticks. “what the fuck can I do with CHOP STICKS?” I screamed at myself, crying in frustration and terror.
It sounds like it took a long time, but it must have been about five seconds. Meanwhile, Nathan was trying to get a grip on the doorknob. When he finally opened the door, I was standing on my bed with a hammer and a wooden chopstick, looking like the world’s worst carpenter. As soon as he opened the door, I jumped on him and wailed in with the hammer, simultaneously stabbing him in the throat. My hammer’s head was buried in his skull, and when I pulled it out, it was covered in black goo that I imagine used to be his brains. I stood back a moment, the slimy hammer in my focus, the chop stick still lodged in Nathan’s throat, and Nathan, fuzzy in the background of my vision, croaking and clawing at the chopstick until he finally broke it off, leaving half of it stuck in the soft stinking flesh. I stood there, perplexed by this. Shit like this is not supposed to happen.
09.14.01