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THE STALKER

T hough I hated reliving my past and being forced into a decision no fourteen-year-old should have to make, for Maddie, I’d endure it. Clasping her hand in mine, I say, “This is going to be hard.” A lump is in my throat and I swallow hard.

“I’m here, Jagger. Through it all, I’ll be right here. Anything you need.”

A salacious smile curls my lips as I lean forward, pressing sloppy wet kisses up her throat and to her lips. “And what if I need to bury myself deep inside you after I’ve told my story? What if I need to lose myself in you?”

Her smile is flirtatious, desire turning her eyes into a pot of molten honey. “I’m right here. Always.” She shivers, her hard nipples poking against my chest. “I look forward to it.”

Goddamn. I’m a lucky fucker.

But not right now. That will have to wait until I reveal the horror that finally turned my life around. One decision that would change everything.

T hings changed after the social worker came to my house and had sex with my father. He thought he had a great way to get rid of me and would soon be free from his responsibilities of fatherhood, so he cared very little whether I was home or not.

I spent as much time at the Brandt’s house as possible, which ultimately led to me confiding in Jason,

telling him everything I’d overhead that awful night my social worker betrayed me. Confessing that I stared at the sky, pleading for my mom to somehow see and help me, shame filled me. We’re two teenage boys, and Jason will probably think I’m a wimp.

Instead, he shocked me when his eyebrows rose, his face serious and gravely concerned. “Your mom would be proud of her smart, resourceful son. She’d hate what her husband had become. She’d want you out of that house. She sure as hell wouldn’t want you to go to some damn mental institution.”

He paused, staring at me for a long time. “You’re not sick, Jagger. You’re the victim of a fucked up cruel game that your dad and this bitch social worker are playing.” He paused, the muscles in his arms so tense they strained the fabric of his shirt. He and I have been hitting the weights every chance we get and putting on some muscle mass.

Finally, Jason said, “What do you think your mom would say to you if she could get a message to you from the grave?”

I’d never given that much thought.

Chewing on my bottom lip, the video game we’d been playing paused, I finally said, “I’m not sure if she’d tell me to do what I’ve been thinking about doing.”

Jason stares at me before saying, “You’re a good kid in a helluva messed up situation that no fourteen-year-old boy should be in.” Jason puts a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it, a serious expression replacing his typical jovial one. “Sometimes, you have to take matters into your own hands. Play their game.” His voice lowers, his expression serious. “If your mom knew everything that has happened since her death and you asked her what you should do, what do you think she’d say?”

I didn’t hesitate before blurting out, “She’d tell me to do whatever I needed to do to get out of it. To save myself.”

Jason nods. “Listen to your mom.”

His words and my response echoed inside my head all night long. The next morning, when I woke up in the twin bed beside his in his room, I leaned on my elbow, peering at him with tired eyes. “I know what I must do. But I’m going to need your help.”

Jason didn’t question me. “Anything you need, Jagger. Always.”

In the days that followed, I laced my father’s booze with sleeping pills so I could search the house to find out how much money he had. I was thrilled to learn I’d inherited a nice sum of money, a cabin, and some land my mom inherited from my grandparents and left to me, but I was pissed my dad hid it from me. Once I turned eighteen, it would be mine. I was shocked to find the Brandt’s were its executors until I reached eighteen when it would be mine.

A note from my mom stuffed in a drawer included the details of how she’d inherited the money. She explained she was an only child whose parents disowned her for marrying my father, whom they didn’t like nor trust. Since they had no other children and hadn’t changed their will, when they died from injuries sustained in a car accident, all their money went to my mom. My mom kept their cabin, located in the mountains on the outskirts of Falls Creek, but sold their main house and most of their vehicles. She put that money in a trust for me.

About a week later, I heard my dad talking on the phone, gleefully laughing about me being taken away soon. Because he completed part of the job the social worker asked him to do, he got a nice cut of the money she promised him, as well as some drugs.

My dad’s next call was to the dealer because the social worker couldn’t hand him the drugs. I heard him arguing with her on the phone, her shrill voice reaching my ears when she said, “Are you kidding, Lucas? I can’t just hand you the drugs. Just like I couldn’t with the money you received. I’ll give you the dealer’s name and number so you can set up a meeting.”

Perfect.

Anticipation rolled through me when he left to meet the dealer. I paced in my bedroom, too anxious to do anything except drink tons of water to quench my unyielding thirst as anticipation rolled through me. This has to work. I’m out of options.

Finally, his truck engine roared into the drive, classic rock music pouring through my open bedroom window. A few minutes later, his boots thudded over the sidewalk and through the door, slamming it behind him. He bellowed I needed to start dinner before hurrying up the steps. Closing the window, I crept to my hiding spot.

Hidden upstairs in the spare room across from his bedroom, I watched as he came upstairs with his drugs. He sat on the bed, rolled up his sleeve, and injected the speedball concoction into his veins. He’d done a speedball the first time he threw the pot of boiling water on my back. I had no idea what that was until I heard Mr. and Mrs. Brandt whispering when I stayed with them. Only, they had no idea I was on the other side of the wall, listening to the conversation, tears rolling down my face.

My lips twisted in disgust. I hated drugs, and watching him inject himself caused bile to rise in my throat. The urge to kill him and put an end to his misery, as well as my own, caused my blood to pump viciously through my veins.

After he came out of his room, I stealthily crept out after him.

When he reached the top of the stairs, I got a running start, shoving him as hard as I could. Breathing heavily, I watched as he tumbled to the bottom of the stairs. He lay there, his limbs twisted at odd angles, groaning.

With gloved hands, I returned to his room, grabbed his stash of drugs, then slowly descended the stairs. His eyes popped open, and he looked at me with pure hatred before he said, “Help me.”

My lips twisted into a menacing smile, my heart full of malice. Kneeling beside him, I said, “Oh, I intend to help you by putting you out of your fucking misery, asshole.” I held up his syringe. “But when you die, you won’t see mom again because you’re going straight to hell, motherfucker.”

“P-Please, J-J-Jagger. Y-You d-don’t w-w-want t-to d-do t-t-this.” He eyed the syringe I filled with drugs, having researched this at Jason’s house to ensure I gave him a lethal dose. “Y-you’re n-n-not like m-me. Y-Y-You t-take after y-your m-m-mom.”

I injected the lethal dosage into his arm. “You’re right. I do. And the last fucking place she’d want me to go is to a mental hospital.” I give him a brittle smile, my eyes hard as I watch the syringe drain, the drugs flowing into his veins, my gaze meets his. “You’re a fucking sorry excuse of a father. An even worse excuse for a human being. Mom would despise what you’ve become. She’d fucking hate you if she saw you like this.” Pulling the needle out, I give him a cold, malicious smile. “But I’m like you in one way. I can be a callous bastard.”

As a tear slipped down his cheek, I put the syringe in his right hand, just like it was earlier, and spread his paraphernalia around him, vividly picturing the way he used it upstairs to ensure I spread it around him so there were no questions.

Pacing around, I darted looks at him, watching as his breathing became shallow, his skin pale and clammy. He started making choking and snore-like gurgling noises, and that’s when I had to walk to the living room window, staring out into the backyard. As I heard him vomiting, knowing he was likely choking on it, I zoned out, my eyes staring at the overgrown backyard.

“Goodbye, miserable fucking life.” All the good memories I’d had out there had been stolen away by all the horrific hell my father put me through. So I wouldn’t be tempted to try to save him, I went over every awful thing he’d said and done to me since my mom died.

As much as I didn’t want them to, my thoughts returned to my mom. Images of her and I in this house and the backyard filled my head, causing me to smile as tears trickled down my cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Mom,” I whispered. “I had no other choice.”

Unbidden, pumpkin, the little girl I’d met at the park, filtered into my brain. My mind returned to her and me on the swings and the hope and freedom I felt being with her. A sob caught in my throat as I whispered, “I hope wherever you are, pumpkin, you’re happy and safe. I hope you danced your heart out and proved to Jacob that you deserved that role. If we ever meet again, I hope you won’t see the monster I’d become but the boy you once met.”

Jason texted me, assuring me everything was okay. Abby was our lookout, ensuring Mrs. Brandt didn’t go upstairs to Jason’s room and notice we weren’t there, playing video games.

My phone beeped again, and I gave Jason the signal. Letting him in the back door, we stood over my dad, checking his pulse. He had none. Since Jason’s dad was a doctor, he supervised me as I checked to ensure my dad wasn’t breathing.

As darkness blanketed the outside, Jason snuck out the backdoor and back to his house. Once he arrived, he texted me, letting me know it was my turn.

Pulling my hoodie overhead, I snuck outside, creeping along the hedges to the tree line. My eyes darted around, ensuring I saw no one. Meeting him at the back door of his house, we quietly snuck inside and made our way up the stairs. Taking off our backpacks, we hid the sweatshirts we wore in a tote in the back of his closet that was full of clothes his mom planned to donate. Then Jason and I calmly went downstairs for a drink.

We chatted with his mom and Abby, and I was invited to stay for dinner. I texted my dad to ask if it was alright, but he never answered. Then I called him, and again, appeared surprised and concerned that he didn’t respond.

Jason’s mom was used to my dad flaking out on me, so I ate dinner with them, forcing myself to act natural, despite my stomach hollowing out.

When we finished, Jason’s mom drove me home, with Abby and Jason with us since her husband was working late.

When we pulled up to a dark house, Jason’s mom was nervous and insisted on going inside to see if my dad was home, just like I predicted she would.

She was the one who found my father lying at the bottom of the stairs.

As I stared down at his dead body, the tears I cried were real. But none of them were for him.

They were for me.

The boy whose innocence was lost when he was thrust from a loving home with two parents who cared for him, or at least one who did while the other pretended, to a world full of neglect and abuse. The boy who grew up too fast, his nativity stripped away when he learned that sometimes, the ones closest to us are the ones who hurt us the most.

The boy forced to murder his father because no one would save him. So I saved myself.

Jason’s mom took me home with them, as I knew she would. I stayed with the Brandt family until the reading of the will. Jason and I already knew what was in it. I’d found it the night I found the inheritance letter my mom left for me. But I pretended to be relieved, sagging in my chair from it, when the attorney read, “If we both perish, John and Alicia Brandt will assume guardianship of Jagger Ryan Williams.”

Life improved dramatically after that. Jason’s family officially adopted me, and I became Jagger Ryan Brandt.

But I never forgot the hell I’d endured.

P ulling myself from thoughts of the past, I stare at Maddie, the woman I love with all my heart. A twinge of guilt courses through me. There’s one thing I can’t tell her about. The social worker who betrayed me.

Tears pour down her cheek as she throws herself against my chest, her arms wrapping around me, giving me the biggest, longest hug I’d ever received.

When Maddie pulled back, I gingerly wiped the tears from her face with my thumbs. “I’ve seen the monster, but he doesn’t scare me. The boy I once met always keeps me safe from everyone, including the monster.” She pauses, “The man you’ve become contains both the monster and boy, and I love them, Jagger. I love you . Every single part of you.”

My breath heaves out of my lungs, relief flowing through me so fast my skin tingles. “You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.” Tears are in my eyes as they devour her beautiful face, skin soft and luminous, and eyes full of nothing but respect, love, gratitude, and a promise. She sees me, all of me, and loves me without judgment.

Unconditionally.

And for the first time since I’ve murdered my father, I hold her in my arms and cry for the boy who lost all shred of his innocence that day.