~ The One I Need ~ Johlex Fanfiction ~

Blind

The day is finally over. As Johnnie and I exit through the front doors in the huge group of hormonal teenagers, Johnnie grabs my hand and we walk to the road to his home. Our home until my mother and I found somewhere to live permanently. The sound of dry leaves crunching under our feet satisfied me, as it usually would. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders to keep me warm and my face brightened.

We later on arrive home, giggling like children in a candy store. As I glance around, I see Kyle packing a small plastic bag and filling it with clothes. I remember that he said something about seeing family. I just didn't know he was leaving so soon. Johnnie asks him, "Are you going to see your family this soon?" Kyle pants gruffly, responding, "No. Bryan kicked me out."

"WHAT?! WHY?!" Johnnie exclaims. 
"Because I finally called him out on his shit. He's been a complete asshole. He only took me in because of my parent's money and he's too chickenshit to admit it. He's doing the same thing to you. If there's more people to live with him, the more money he gets. It isn't fair at all." Johnnie's face slowly becomes red and he puffs out a sigh in anger. Kyle continues packing his things in a bag and comments, "If I were you, Alex, I'd get out of here, along with your mom. If Bryan wants to be an asshole, then so be it. But don't succumb to his lies."

Kyle goes to get another plastic bag for the rest of his clothes and then I roughly state, "No. He isn't gonna get away with that. If anything, he should leave. He can't kick us onto the streets. That's too much baggage, especially for him. Has he done anything illegal recently?"

Johnnie and Kyle gaze at watch each other for a quick second. Johnnie comments, "We said we wouldn't tell anyone. We swore."

"Johnnie, he can't do this to us," Kyle states, "He deserves be treated like he's treated us. The truth needs to get out." Kyle sets the bag onto the wooden counter, and says, "Bryan made us swear to never tell this to anyone, but he's been selling marijuana, and harder stuff to keep his income. Cocaine, heroin. There's probably more but he's only told us about the three. He's done much worse, but I don't know if I should even say it out loud..." I give him a stiff expression, insinuating that he needs to tell me.

"He... he, uh..."

Johnnie interrupts, "He killed someone. They tried getting into his stash and he cut the guy's throat out of rage."

My breath becomes shortened as I stifle my gasp. I choke on saliva and clear my throat. I ask, "How long ago was this?"

"About eight months ago," Johnnie responds. "It was a real bad thing to happen. Really bad. It was just a kid. Maybe a little bit younger than us. About fifteen."

I think to myself for a moment and say, "If he goes to jail for it, he can get up to twenty years fr selling drugs and murder. As long as you two never had a part in either, you should be fine and nothing will happen to you."
Johnnie comments, "But we knew about it. Isn't that being an accomplice or something?"

"Only if we had anything to do with it," Kyle responds. "He can go to prison and we can have the house. He told me that if anything happened to him, he would out the house in our names so we would have somewhere to stay. Even if he went to jail or was killed."

I think to myself, "If what I want to do works out, then it would fit altogether. Like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle."

"I have a plan," I declare to the boys.

"Johnnie, you call Bryan and tell him I've accidentally found his stash. That Kyle told me everything out of spite and that I've taken most of it and sold the rest of everything. Then Kyle, if he says anything such as 'I'm going to kill her' or 'I'm going to make her pay,' then you scream, 'She went to the police, you need to come home and take care of this.' If he comes back, then there will already be police outside to take him in. I just need to know one thing."

Johnnie and Kyle patiently wait for me to speak.

"Where's the kid's body? And is there a weapon? If they analyze it for DNA evidence and fingerprints, then that's proof enough that he killed that poor kid, other than your say so. Don't ask me how I know this, I just watch a lot of crime shows."

"He washed the knife and buried it with the kid's body. It was almost a year ago," Kyle comments. "There would hardly be a trace of blood, wouldn't there?"

"Blood hardly washes out of anything. It would be hard for any forensic scientist to not find any. Blood can sometimes make it through several washes of clothes. The trace never really goes away."

The boys appear to look intrigued by my basic knowledge of science. Kyle then walks past me and through the backdoor. Johnnie and I share a glance then we follow Kyle. As we exit the house, Kyle is in a rusty, old shed and tosses out three shovels. "Grab one and let's start digging." As we pick up the old, nearly broken shovels, Kyle leads us to the back of the shed, where there's an obvious hole that's been refilled. He pushes the shovel into the ground and begins shoveling, then Johnnie and I assist.

After a few minutes, we're knee deep in a soiled hole, then we stop as soon as Johnnie exclaims, "There's the plastic, stop!" We toss our shovels back and get down onto our knees to dig up the remaining soil and dirt with our hands. The smell was fatal, like a carcass of roadkill on the side of the road. Johnnie and Kyle lift the body up and Kyle comments, "Alex, get up there and help us out."

I crawl out of the dug hole and sit on my knees, waiting for them to hand me the body. They rise him up head first, then hand him to me. I grab the body by the shoulders and pull him out of there. As I set it next to me, I help Johnnie and Kyle out of the hole. "What now?" I ask.

Johnnie states, "We call the police and tell them everything."