Parker Tessier “Untitled”

I woke up the day after I died.

I’m Casey Wallace. Never heard of me? That’s because I died in a small town where nothing bad ever happens! Especially to me. I’m the police chief’s kid. My father would protect me from everything he possibly could, but when it came down to it, he could be a real coward.

My best friend, Charlie, was super into serial killers at the time. She would get engrossed in these weird, creepy subjects. I think she just wanted to seem even a little scary, as she was the most colorful, least intimidating person you would ever meet. She’d tell me about all the ways different serial killers became who they were. One murderer she learnt about had a childhood teddy bear he would rip stuffing out of when mad. They’d kill squirrels, frogs, or have a weird obsession with dolls or cooking with weird materials and knives or something.

Let’s start from the day before. I woke up. Went to school. Went to lunch. Talked to Charlie at lunch. To call Charlie an empath was an incredible understatement. She would pick at your brain if you were even acting slightly differently than the day before. She could tell every emotion from the way you’d breathe or blink. It was… caring. She always wanted to know how you felt. She’d always know eventually, even if you didn’t tell her. She would greet you with a sense of enthusiasm that made you feel wanted. It was hypnotizing. She was passionate about everything, even when she was talking about things like serial killers. That’s why she was so engaging. The twinkle in her eye she’d get when she was excited was brighter than the stars. She was bright. She could pull you in with her words and her smile. That was one of the only things I truly hated about her. She got me, and I got her, and we were best friends. She was the only person who made me lose control. I could just say things around her. No thoughts to hold me back. She knew me and she was really the only one. It wouldn’t be that way if I could help it. I like to know what I’m saying. I prefer thinking over feeling. She pulls my thoughts right out of me. She knew she could do this, too.

I always wanted to be perfect, like my dad. For my dad. Charlie was perfect. He always loved it when she would come over, because she’s everything a parent could want. He loved her like a second child. She’s smart. She can memorize anything just by hearing it once. My dad is pretty extraordinary, too. He’s powerful, and no one in his department can hold a candle to him. He wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea of me being average, either. I wasn’t, but I was never at Charlie’s level. I was her only real competition, if she had any. He wanted me to be even better than her. I didn’t like fighting with her, but we would argue at times, because everything we were meant to do together felt like… competition. We had about the same plan. That’s why I preferred to think. The court doesn’t favor those who act on only feelings. I didn’t understand why Charlie could throw me off so easily. Until I did. I understood. I wish I never had. Maybe I could have avoided this all. Delayed it. Made it less… intense. Maybe things could have been different. I loved Charlie. I did. I loved her. I didn’t know what to do. I felt lost, swallowed. Love was in the way of my entire plan. I didn’t have time for that. For her. So what did I do? I pushed it down. I ignored it. I knew it wouldn’t work. I was so foolish. I felt that I had no other choice. The desire to be around her, talk to her, only grew stronger.

So I stopped avoiding my feelings and started avoiding her as a whole. Did I think it would work? No. Did it? No. I craved more the longer I was away. She was addicting. As the days passed I only felt more crazy. What was I doing? I was blatantly disobeying my own morals. My own logic I’ve set. In fact, I was following no logic at all.

Feelings are so powerful. Too powerful. The very part of it that was driving me truly out of my mind was I wasn’t thinking. That. That made me do the very thing I did next. I went to her house. No warning. No thinking about it, either.

She greeted me at the door with her warming, loving smile, and it was beautifully, terribly, wonderful.

“Hi Casey! I didn’t know you were coming. Mom must’ve forgotten to tell me you called. Want to come watch a movie with me?”

“Ok,” I knew I was acting off. I was off. I don’t know how she didn’t sense anything in me. It was practically stapled on my face.

I followed her downstairs. Her basement was where we’d watched movies since we were twelve. There was… a ripped opened teddy bear, on the couch. Which I’d seen before. She said it was her dog’s old toy. Frog and squirrel taxidermy on the walls. Dolls. Lots of them. Everywhere. Popcorn. Which looked… normal. She’s still missing something.

“Want some?”

“I’m not really hungry.”

“But popcorn is your favorite? Oh well,” She’s not saying anything. I mean, there’s words coming out of her mouth but they don’t really mean anything. I came here with a goal, and I’m going to complete it or die trying. She put on Titanic. She knows me. She knows this is the only movie that could ever make me cry. It’s already in that scene where Jack and Rose have their arms wrapped around each other.

“Oh, you know what? We should recreate that! Just like we always used to. Remember when we always fought over who got to be Rose? I’ll let you, this time.”

“Let’s do it.” This is the perfect opportunity.

Just as I move to graze her lips, she leans slightly, then moves to my ear. She whispers “Don’t go, Rose.” I look down. “Now, we never have to fight again. I just won. Oh, but you are such a hero for… helping me accomplish my final, eternal victory.”

Her voice faded. She stabbed me, right in the stomach with a small, cutting-edge knife. There it is. I didn’t even feel a pinch. She ripped out the knife, took the blood from the very edge, and drew a heart on her cheek. I grinned, and hit the floor.

“Oh, Charlie, this is your saddest defeat yet. I promise, I’ll never let go, Jack. I’ll never let go.” Only pushing those words out of me with every last breath and muscle I had made me realize how much I truly, gut-wrenchingly hated her. Then… I did let go. It all made sense, ridded of me, and Dad would never bat an eye at her. The poor, distraught, girl who had her best friend… taken from her… couldn’t hurt a fly, right?

The next day, I woke up. But really, I didn’t. In my own bed, not Charlie’s basement, without a scratch on my body. I went to school. But really, I didn’t. I sat at lunch and watched Charlie sob to some girl I’d never even seen before.

“Casey was just so incredible.” She cried out the words. It seemed real. I hoped even a trace of it really was. “At least we got to watch our favorite movie just one last time before… Casey finally cracked. I would have given anything to avoid it. To have my Casey back.” I guess I never really was the only one she could hypnotize.