Black Promises (Blackwoods College)

I had nothing.

Only the memory of what happened.

I could still smell the sharp tang of blood in the air. I could taste the biting cold wind. I could feel the dog tug against the leash.

I could hear Dr. Silver gurgle his last breath as his blood pooled around him.

His death, my rape. They were intertwined now in the past. Lost and gone. I couldn’t go back to them, even if I wanted.

They happened, and now they were lost.

And I still felt the same.

I dressed, mumbled good morning to my mother, and met Robyn out front. I climbed into the car and rubbed my arms as she headed toward campus. It was a crisp morning, bright and sunny—a gorgeous winter day.

I expected clouds. I committed a murder the night before.

“You look tired.” Robyn suppressed a smile as she glanced at me.

“Good morning to you too.”

“You slept okay?”

“I was up late watching The Office.”

“Again? How many times now?”

I closed my eyes. “Five. No, six.”

“Impressive.”

“It’s my comfort show.”

“Got any particular reason for needing that comfort?” She stared straight ahead with a little smile on her lips.

Dr. Silver’s throat gushing with blood. His fingers pressing at the wound as he died.

“Not really. Just a long week.”

“I’m sure tutoring my cousin isn’t easy.”

I grimaced and tried not to let her see it. “He’s not so bad.”

“Oh, come on. He’s a total asshole to everyone. We both know he’s a jerk.”

“You’re the one that’s constantly defending him.”

Her smile faltered. I’d spoken with a little too much anger and instantly regretted it. “Okay, yeah, I guess that’s fair.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just tired, is all.”

“I know what people think about Jarrod. And I’m not blind to the way he treats me.”

“So why do you let him get away with it?” I was too curious not to ask. Every time I brought this subject up in the past, she got defensive and the conversation instantly shut down.

“It’s hard to explain. He’s one person to everyone else and another person when we’re alone at home. I know that doesn’t excuse anything, but still.”

I chewed on my cheek. “No, it really doesn’t, but I think I know what you mean.”

“He’s nice to you in private too?”

“I wouldn’t say nice.”

She laughed. It sounded bitter and manic, like she was suppressing something and had been for a long time. “You’re right, I wouldn’t either. More like, protective and gruff. Like he gives a shit, but won’t let himself be soft.”

“That’s exactly what I thought.”

“Unfortunately, beneath all those layers of macho asshole, I’m not sure there’s a nice young man hiding away.”

I looked out the window. If only she knew.

We parted ways on campus. I had a math class—the last of my existence if I could help it—and she had a survey of early American pop culture.

As I sat in class and half listened to the teacher drone on, doing problem after problem and explaining it all as he went, I thought about Jarrod. There was something broken about him in the same way that there was something broken about me—we shared that much in common. No normal human wanted to murder another like we did, and yet he hadn’t even flinched when I approached him with the possibility. The way Robyn talked about him suggested something else was happening in his life, and I guessed it had to do with his parents.

We didn’t talk about personal stuff though. Our conversation revolved around murdering Dr. Silver and all the filthy things Jarrod wanted to do to me with his single night of carnal lust. I enjoyed both subjects, even if I pretended to hate the second one, and hadn’t tried to steer him into talking about his personal life.

Maybe I should have. I realized I didn’t know the man that I killed with very well at all.

I closed my eyes and felt myself getting sleepy. I jolted awake with a sudden panic—the professor was still droning on—and looked at my hands. I expected them to be bloody.

For so long I defined myself by my hatred of the man that hurt me and my brother. Whenever I had a spare moment, I daydreamed about getting my revenge, and now that it had happened, I felt an empty chasm in my chest. There was something deeply unsatisfying about setting out to murder the bastard—

And doing it so quickly.

But there was no other way. Jarrod was willing to help, but he wasn’t willing to rot in prison forever, and I wouldn’t ask that of him.

I didn’t know what I was going to do with myself. I felt panic rise up, fear and disgust lingering in my throat, and as soon as the professor ended class, I hurried outside, head spinning. I had to get some air, but even the crisp winter wind didn’t soothe the ache in my lungs.