His own son bound him to a chair at gunpoint on top of an abandoned business building. Mark, his son, shot his little sister, James’ daughter, in the head with cold eyes. He turned and shot his own mother. Finally, as James watched in horror, his son trained the gun on him with an expressionless cold stare, as Mark pulled the trigger.
That’s when James woke up a sweaty, terrified mess, never seeing the ending.
He literally felt like he had been hit by a speeding train. He felt tired. The real nightmare had left him sweating and out of breath. But it wasn’t real. He breathed out.
It wasn’t real.
The Bensons were a pretty typical family. James worked as a prescription filler at the local pharmacy. Sally, his wife, was a stay at home mom. Katherine, the youngest of the two kids, was turning fourteen at the end of June. Her older brother, Mark, was about to graduate from high school in June.
Overall they were a pretty content, normal family. They ate dinner together every night, and the kids were involved in school activities. It was all normal. It was all perfect.
One night over dinner, Mark seemed unusually quiet. The girls didn’t seem to notice any change in his mood, but James did.
“Mark, uh, how was your day?” James tried asking.
Mark didn’t respond. No one said anything. Instead, all James could hear was a high pitched ringing. The colors of reality started blurring together; Mark’s brown hair melted into his pale skin and blue shirt. Everything was blurry and melting. Suddenly, all James could feel was the tingle as his numb body hit the floor. Everything went black, and finally, that high pitched ringing ceased to exist.
The wife of James Benson sat silently and tired, staring at her husband’s body in the hospital bed. The machine monitoring his vitals had been beeping in a rhythmic, boring routine for the past three months. After the accident, James had gone into a coma.
Sally looked at him with the same blank stare she used everyday when she visited his motionless body. One day, she thinks maybe other parts of him would start moving aside from his heart. But what would she say? Would she hug him and kiss him like nothing had happened, or like it was all an accident? Would she turn a cold shoulder to him?
She sighs, not sure what to think or how to feel.
The date was June 2nd, and James had been having mental health problems for quite a few years. One falter in that day sent him over the edge-literally. Mark wanted to drive with his friends to a concert the next night. He kept pleading with his parents to let him go. Finally, the morning before, Mark was straightforward with his dad.
“Dad, I’m eighteen now. I don’t understand what’s so wrong about me going. You never understand me!” Mark was a little angry, but little did he know, his dad was a ticking time bomb, waiting for his moment to detonate.
“Get in the car, and get your sister. We’re going for a drive.” James said calmly, but sternly to his son.
Mark, a little confused and speechless, left to retrieve his sister. After they had all gotten in the car, James turned the radio on. The Beatles’ Help! was blasting through the speakers. James drove silently, calmly with his confused kids in the car with him.
He drove to an older, less populated part of Seattle. He pulled into the parking lot of an abandoned commercial building. There seemed to be no sign of human activity in the area. James exited the car, seeming to forget his kids presence. His eyes were set on the building. He was determined to finish a task as he paced his way to the front door.
But what task? His children have no knowledge of their fathers mental health issures, and no knowledge of his deals. The confused kids didn’t know what to do or think. They exchanged a worried look and got out of the car to follow their ill father.
What they heard as they entered the building was frightening. They could hear their father whispering, but there was nobody else in the empty building.
“I know the deal-,” he whispered frantically. “Please stop. Just get-,” suddenly James fell to his knees and started crying as he angrily beat his fists into the concrete. He yelled “JUST GET OUT OF MY HEAD!”
Mark could see the blood and insanity pouring out of his father. Katherine was too shocked to do anything. Mark knew he was the only one who could stop this. He approached his father, and said, “Dad it’s okay, you don’t have to-,”
His dad cut him off with an ear splitting scream. He pulled a knife out and whipped it at Katherine’s head. It landed in the wood of the door behind her. Frightened, Katherine started crying. James ran to the front door blocking any escape that way. He pulled out a gun.
“Up the stairs,” James commanded. When neither of his kids did anything he shot the window next to them, shattering the glass instantly. Mark let Katherine pass in front of her and go up first so he could be a protection behind her.
The six flights of stairs they climbed, seemed as if they wouldn't lead any where. They were just a twisting dark set of stairs that went up through the heavens and off into the great unknown.
Once they were on the roof of the building, James started crying, saying, “I don’t want to, I can’t.” The kids stole a worried glance at one another.
James took a deep breath, looked up with tears streaming down his face. He whispered, “I’m sorry,” and shot Katherine in the head. Shocked, she collapsed to the ground instantly dying.
Before he could shoot his own son, Mark lunged at his father. He fought to get the gun out of his hand. The gun fired and hit Mark in his stomach. James was sobbing. He looked at his son as he was bleeding out, “I’m sorry, this wasn’t what I wanted. I love you.” James turned and ran off the side of the roof. The building was six stories high, and he should have died from the impact.
Sally has thought about that night every day since it has happened. She grieves the loss of her children each day. She regrets not taking action about the illness her husband possessed sooner.
As she sat in the hospital room for the 63rd day after the tragedy, she finally shed a tear for herself. For her loss.
When she finally finished crying, the nagging beep-beep of the heart monitor suddenly went flat. Sally breathed out. The unbearable weight was lifted from her shoulders.
As nurses rushed into the room, she got up from her chair and left the room, never looking back.
