To Be A Killer

Chapter 17: Nicotine

I lay in my bed, looking up at the bunk above me, but not really seeing anything. I haven't really seen anything since I got back from that mission yesterday. My thoughts have been pretty scattered since I left Simon in his little bunker.

No one really seemed to notice how out of it I was when I returned. Paula was too happy over the fact that I found those notes on Comansys. It was only after a few moments that people around started to realize I wasn't reacting normally. I wasn't as excited-as happy.

I fabricated a lie about how I escaped the Deadlocks and stumbled upon Van Ark's lab while trying to find a place to hide. I told them it was there I found his notes, and in my rush to get to them I slipped and cut my cheek on a piece of glass. They believed it because it had an embarrassing detail about me scaring myself when I looked in the mirror because I thought it was one of Van Ark's experiments and not my reflection. No one is going to think twice about a story that makes you look like the idiot.

Dr. Lobatse said the way I was acting was because of shock. Sam didn't believe that though. He knows being shot at isn't enough to scare me. He knows there's something else.

He ended up asking me about what I was talking about before he was cut off. I told another white lie, saying I had a dream and thought it was like the other ones in the past, but I was wrong. It was a Deadlock coming towards me, and I shot him.

I don't know if he believed me, but he's not raised anymore questions on it.

It seems that I've gotten good at telling these little lies. I just hope it doesn't come crashing down on me.

But I cannot tell the truth. I promised Simon I wouldn't, so I won't. Besides, what good would it be for them to know? I'm the only one who's really forgiven him. Telling anyone wouldn't do anything really. I doubt anyone actually cares if he's dead or alive. Janine might, but it's not like she'd ever tell you if she did. She's too stiff to talk about feelings.

It would be a waste of breath to tell anyone he's alive. The only person who might care is Caleb, since he and Simon were friends. They used to have contests on who could tell the cheesiest jokes; Si always won. Always.

But Caleb's gone. He's somewhere unknown, and the only hope we have right now is those notes. Hopefully they'll lead to something. Hopefully they'll let us find Caleb.

Maybe that's why Simon gave my those notes, because he wants to help find Caleb. He just won't admit it... I want to believe he still cares, even if it's just a little bit, because I care. I care about them both.

I miss them both too. I wish things could go back to the way it was-we were all friends. We all had some burden, but we handled it well enough. We weren't perfect, but we had some happiness.

Now we're all alone somewhere with with a void in us. I know that's true for two of us, and I'm almost positive it's that way for the third. I know I'm not alone in a way. I know I have all these people here around me, but there's always those friends who can never be replaced-those friends who, being without them feels like you're going through withdrawals.

It was worse when it first started, but it's still there. I guess it always will be though.

I sit up and swing my legs over the bed, knowing that sitting around feeling sorry for myself isn't going to help anything. All it's doing is making me feel worse, and that's not how I need seeing that I do have a good amount of things to be grateful for. I might as well try to do something that'll make me happy rather than sit around here sulking.

I don't have kitchen duty until tonight, so that's out of the picture for now. Not that I mind. I hate working in the kitchens. Washing dishes is one of the worst chores I could be given, and for some reason every time I have kitchen duty, I am given that task.