Thoughts and Random Things

A Week (part one?)

I am going to kill you one day.

I was sixteen years old when I first saw the death note, shoved between the slats of my bedroom closet door. I was scared, because I knew it was true. I'd seen that note before-- my grandfather's body was discovered on a roadside with this very same death note next to his corpse, back in 2011. Years later, my dad was found dead the same way. My family had an autopsy done on dad's body; he'd had a lethal amount of a certain chemical in him. I forget what it was. (We decided not to get an autopsy done on Granddad because he had obviously been shot.)

Clearly, someone or something was targeting my dad's side of the family; everyone with his last name.

I was so young when I first found the death note, so obviously targeted at me. I wore gloves when handling it so that I could search for fingerprints, but the paper was totally clean. Whoever wrote it must have been wearing gloves, too.

I shook nervously that night in bed. I was too young to be a target, right? I clutched the note close to me as I attempted to sleep and failed for most of the night. My body gave in probably somewhere around 4 or 4:30 A.M.

I woke up the next morning. A new note had been wedged into the small openings of my closet door, exactly in the same spot as the first one. Everything about the new note was the same, except for what it read:

Don't you dare tell the police about this, kid.

Feeling a sudden burst of fear-induced anger, I tore up and crumpled both notes into a tousled heap on my messy, unmade bed.

I took a deep breath with my eyes closed, calming myself down from the episode of rage that had just coursed through me. I opened my eyes and calmly scooped the scattered shreds of card paper into an envelope. I carried the envelope with my into the kitchen, where I went up on my tiptoes to reach the lighter we so conveniently kept on top of the fridge. I then proceeded to reach into the fridge itself and grab a bottle of water. I checked the time on the oven's digital clock. 7:02. It was light out, but too early for anyone else in the house to be awake. Quietly as possible, I unlocked and snuck out the back door.

The backyard was a small, plain field of overgrown grass, punctuated only by a lilac bush that had gone untrimmed for  much too long and was probably infertile at this point when it came to actually growing lilacs.

I stepped past the scraggling dandelions and stalks of miniature wild wheat, eventually finding a spot near the center of the yard where the grass wasn't too excessively long. I lowered myself down, criss-cross-applesauce, onto the lawn. I set the envelope down on the ground in front of me and flick the lighter on, watching the orange tongue of flame lightly singe the air around it. I reach to lower the flame onto the envelope.

Just as fire began to swallow the paper up, I heard a shriek. It made me jump, bringing my calf dangerously close to the burning paper. I snapped my head to the side. The leaves of the lilac bush next to me rustled in a way that was unnatural considering the lack of wind.

I stood slowly, gingerly approaching the bush with careful steps. I was expecting to see a feral cat taking a shit or something.

I was not expecting a human figure to pop out.

I shrieked and jumped back as the silhouette laughed at my fear. I took a good look.

She was moderately sized, probably an inch or two shorter than me, with mousy brown locks of straw-like straight hair that ended a little past her shoulders. Her glasses were made of silver wire, as were her braces, which adorned an evil, Cheshire-cat grin. She couldn't have been much younger than me.

"W-were you hiding in my bush?" I stuttered in shock. She simply chuckled, shrugged and nodded in response.

"I'm Tay the bush bish!" She cackled in greeting as I, crouching, dumped the contents of my water bottle onto what remained of the fire.

I uprighted myself and faced her. "That's trespassing! You can't just--"

"Shhh," she cooed, putting her left hand on my shoulder and her right up to my mouth, shaped into a fist with one finger up and pressing into my lips. She dropped her hands back down. "I mean no harm," she explained. "I'm just bored. There's a week left till school starts back up again, and my best friend has a freaking stupid summer headcold. So, to conquer the absolute monotony, I decided why not stalk the neighbors? I love forcing my way into people's lives!"

"Can't you just get a dogwalking job or something and hop off my case?" I questioned, wishing she would just go away. I didn't wanna deal with some overexcited teen girl when I had no clue when you imminent death would strike.

"Nope!" Tay cheered. "Your case actually seems quite interesting. I kinda wanna hop on it. So what were you burning?"

I tensed, knowing I could never even trust my closest companion with telling them about the note. If I even did tell anyone about the notes, the writers would certainly kill me immediately, and I wanted to prolong my life as much as possible, thank you very much. I looked into Tay's wide brown eyes.

"Just a book report I decided I hated," I lied, and she pursed her lips and nodded. "I know the feel," she responded.

"So, what is your name?" She asked, and I was a bit surprised she didn't know. I mean, she had admitted to stalking me. I would've thought she would've at least looked me up online.

"Joey," I replied honestly, deciding that a first name couldn't hurt.

"Ew. That's kind of a basic-bitch name. I don't like my bitches basic. I prefer my bitches plump and well-fed for the inevitable time when harvest rolls around," she said, cracking herself up.

Yeah, I thought to myself. And I should be preparing for the inevitable time when my murder rolls around.

"Listen, kid," I told her, choosing each syllable slowly so that I wouldn't offend her. "I can promise you that my case is not one that you want to hop on."

"Why?" She cut me off, before I could even finish explaining my argument. Actually, I wasn't planning on going very in-detail about why she shouldn't want to hang with me, so it kind of sucked that she asked.

"Because I am incredibly boring," I stated flatly, hoping that would shoo her away.

"I don't believe that," she persisted, almost childishly. "I know you have it in you to be a really fun person. Let me be your friend, just for this week, and if you're still a loser at the end of the week, then I promise you'll never hear from me again. And if you are awesome at the end of the week, then you gotta be my friend for longer, okay? You should be honored that I'm proposing this, by the way. I never go near creepy strangers like you with the generic-ass names. I mean, if you came to me I would tell you to fickery-fockery-fuck off. So you should be honored to have the privilege of--"

"If I say okay, will you stop ranting?" I gave in, feeling an uncomfortable bitter taste rise in my throat. I don't know what it is or what provoked it, but I wordlessly swallow it back down.

"YESYESYESYESYES!" Tay cheered excitedly. "We are going to be BFF. Bitch friends forever. I don't make 'friends', I make people my bitch. It's pretty great. You'll like it."

"I'm sure I will," I singsonged absentmindedly, my brain wandering down the path of wondering what the hell the upcoming week would be like.

Author note: I was peer pressured into making Tay a character in this... is it crazy to want to make this into a series? Like, a series of short stories, I mean. Or maybe make it its own book with like 5 chapters... I don't know. Comment what you want.