Read I Don't Want To Kill You Online
Authors: Dan Wells
I Don't Want To Kill You (35 page)
. . . always trapped inside her own body, helpless and afraid. Every time I looked in her eyes I’d know it was a demon looking back, studying me, waiting for . . .
I’d always know, and so would Brooke.
And so would Nobody.
‘It will never last,’ I said. ‘You’ll just kill her again.’
‘Never.’
‘That’s what you thought with Marci, too, and look what happened. How many times have you done it?’
Silence.
‘How many?’ I demanded. ‘How many times have you killed an innocent girl because she was too short, or too tall, or her teeth were too crooked? How many times have you killed yourself, and some poor girl got in the way?’
‘It’s not me.’
‘Yes, it is! You hate the demons, but that’s what you are, so you hate yourself – and no matter how perfect these girls are, they will always be tainted, because
you
will always be there.’
you
will always be there.’
‘No!’ Her voice was a roar, its weakness gone, its rawness terrifying.
I’m putting Brooke in danger,
I realised.
I have to calm her down – I have to keep her happy while I figure out what to do.
I’m putting Brooke in danger,
I realised.
I have to calm her down – I have to keep her happy while I figure out what to do.
‘You don’t know what it’s like!’ she shouted. ‘You don’t know what I have to go through every day, just being one of them!’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, searching for a plan. ‘You were right. It will be different this time, because you have me.’
She paused. ‘I love you, John.’
I closed my eyes.
Just don’t kill Brooke.
‘You’re sick now, because you’re still settling into the body, right?’
Just don’t kill Brooke.
‘You’re sick now, because you’re still settling into the body, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘When will you be better?’
‘Tomorrow sometime. It shouldn’t take long.’
‘Then I’ll see you tomorrow. We’ll go somewhere and talk.’
‘A date?’
I breathed deep. ‘Yes, a date. Does that sound good?’
‘It sounds wonderful.’
‘Okay then, I’ll see you tomorrow. I . . .’
I can’t say it.
‘I’ll see you.’
I can’t say it.
‘I’ll see you.’
Chapter 25
I have to kill her. It’s the only choice.
I paced back and forth in the hallway, head down, fingers clenched into fists.
She’s going to kill herself anyway, sooner or later, so Brooke’s already as good as dead. But if I kill her first, and find a way to kill Nobody too, then the chain will be broken and no one else will have to die. I can’t save Brooke, but I can make her the last.
I paced back and forth in the hallway, head down, fingers clenched into fists.
She’s going to kill herself anyway, sooner or later, so Brooke’s already as good as dead. But if I kill her first, and find a way to kill Nobody too, then the chain will be broken and no one else will have to die. I can’t save Brooke, but I can make her the last.
I stopped, feeling my stomach roil and my throat grow cold as ice. I stumbled to the bathroom, knelt and threw up in the toilet. I threw up again, vomiting until my gut was empty and each heave was dry and painful.
I can’t do it. I can’t kill Brooke.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and leaned against the wall, my strength drained and my body powerless. I felt like a husk, ready to crumple and blow away.
I can’t do it. I can’t kill Brooke.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and leaned against the wall, my strength drained and my body powerless. I felt like a husk, ready to crumple and blow away.
It lives in her blood. Anything I do to kill her will free the demon, and she’ll spill out and live while Brooke’s body dies behind her.
I heaved again.
Maybe I could strangle her – there are plenty of ways to kill without blood. I could choke her to death, or tie her up and drop her in the lake . . .
I heaved again.
Maybe I could strangle her – there are plenty of ways to kill without blood. I could choke her to death, or tie her up and drop her in the lake . . .
I beat my hands against the floor, crying.
Stop thinking about it!
But I couldn’t stop. My mind kept going and going, filled with thoughts and images, imagining Brooke’s dead body lurching back to life, forced into motion by the demon in her blood.
It’s not enough to kill the host – I have to kill the demon inside.
Stop thinking about it!
But I couldn’t stop. My mind kept going and going, filled with thoughts and images, imagining Brooke’s dead body lurching back to life, forced into motion by the demon in her blood.
It’s not enough to kill the host – I have to kill the demon inside.
I curled up on the floor, squeezing my eyes shut and covering my ears, but the thoughts were inside my head and I couldn’t block them out.
Fire would do it. Drop her in a big enough fire and the demon will burn to death before she can escape.
Fire would do it. Drop her in a big enough fire and the demon will burn to death before she can escape.
Maybe there’s a way to save her. A dialysis machine could pump the blood out, and the demon with it, and filter it all and put it back in. Or maybe not-the sludge is thick, and the pressure of pumping it out against its will would probably kill the host. And how could I possibly get access to a dialysis machine?
The front door opened, and footsteps came in. My heart sped up, irrationally certain it was the demon come to talk to me with Brooke’s voice and face, but the cadence of the steps was my mom’s; I let my muscles go slack, put my head on the cold tile floor, and tried to calm my breathing. The footsteps walked into the kitchen; the faucet turned on, then off. The footsteps wandered back into the hallway, disappearing with a creak into the softness of the carpet, and then Mom was gasping in the bathroom doorway.
‘John!’ She dropped her bag and knelt down, touching my shoulders, feeling my forehead, taking my pulse. I saw her glance into the toilet and grit her teeth, then she grabbed me under the arms and hauled me up. ‘Come on,’ she said softly. ‘It’s okay, come on up.’ I held her arm with one hand, the wall with the other, and let her help me to my feet. Together we staggered into the living room, where she laid me down on the couch. She sat next to me, pulling my head onto her lap, and smoothed my hair with her hand.
‘I’m so sorry, John. I’m so sorry about Marci.’
Had that really only been this morning?
Not even seven hours had gone by since my call to Marci, and already she’d been dead so long it seemed like ages ago. I felt old and tired, like a weathered tyre cracking in the sun.
Not even seven hours had gone by since my call to Marci, and already she’d been dead so long it seemed like ages ago. I felt old and tired, like a weathered tyre cracking in the sun.
‘I heard you come home, after you ran out,’ said Mom. ‘I thought I’d just let you be alone for a while. I should have come up.’
‘It’s not just Marci,’ I said. ‘You saw the demon sludge, right?’
Pause. ‘Yes.’
I closed my eyes. ‘It’s been moving through them all, all the suicides, and now it’s moved to someone else.’
She paused again. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘I don’t know.’
I’m going to kill Brooke.
‘I don’t know. I used to think I was trying to kill demons, and then I realised that killing wasn’t enough, and I needed to save people, and now . . . Now I can’t do either one.’ But I knew it wasn’t true – I knew I could still find the strength to kill the demon. Saving Brooke wasn’t an option any more, but I could always kill. Sometimes that seemed like the only thing I was ever good at. ‘I don’t want to be a killer.’
I’m going to kill Brooke.
‘I don’t know. I used to think I was trying to kill demons, and then I realised that killing wasn’t enough, and I needed to save people, and now . . . Now I can’t do either one.’ But I knew it wasn’t true – I knew I could still find the strength to kill the demon. Saving Brooke wasn’t an option any more, but I could always kill. Sometimes that seemed like the only thing I was ever good at. ‘I don’t want to be a killer.’
We sat in silence for a minute, then Mom spoke again. ‘Lauren told me about last night. That you told her to get me out of the house.’
I pressed my fingertips against my forehead, rubbing away the beginning of a headache. It didn’t work. ‘She didn’t know why. It’s not her fault.’
‘No, she didn’t, but that’s not making it any better. It’s tearing her apart, thinking what could have happened to you.’
‘That’s a poor choice of words, given the circumstances.’
Mom sighed. ‘Please, John. You can’t just hide behind jokes and technicalities.’ Pause. ‘Did you kill that man?’
‘No.’
‘Were you planning to?’
‘Yes.’
She sighed again, and I felt her arm tense on my shoulder; her leg tensed beneath my head, and I closed my eyes, bracing myself for a fight. Her next question was soft and quiet. ‘Why didn’t you?’
Not what I expected.
‘I didn’t want to. He was just a normal guy. Screwed up, but not a demon or anything.’
‘I didn’t want to. He was just a normal guy. Screwed up, but not a demon or anything.’
‘He was a sociopath,’ said Mom.
‘He was me, twenty years from now; he was exactly what I was turning into. I decided I didn’t want to.’
Her arm and leg relaxed, and I felt a drop of water on my head; a tear. ‘So,’ she said, ‘what are you going to do now?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Do you know who the demon is in?’
‘Yes.’
She stifled a small sob. ‘Who?’
‘No one.’
But she’s already guessed,
I thought. ‘It’s no one you know.’ I pulled away from her, sitting up and facing the wall. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
But she’s already guessed,
I thought. ‘It’s no one you know.’ I pulled away from her, sitting up and facing the wall. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘I just want to—’
The phone rang. I felt cold again, dreading the call like it was my own death. Mom stood up, grabbed the phone and answered.
‘Hello?’ Pause. ‘Oh, hello Brooke, it’s nice to hear from you. Yes, he’s right here, but . . .’ She looked at me, frowned, and turned back to the phone. ‘I’m afraid he’s really not—’
‘Wait!’ I said, jumping up. ‘I’ll take it. I’ll talk.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’
She paused, holding the phone.
‘Please,’ I begged.
Mom lifted the phone to her face. ‘Here he is.’ She handed me the phone and I held it to my ear.
‘Hello.’
‘Hey, John.’ Brooke’s voice, Brooke’s mouth, Brooke’s body. It made me sick. ‘I was thinking about tomorrow, trying to decide a good place to go. Do you have any specific plans?’
I took a deep breath before I replied, forcing myself to sound normal.
Just keep her happy – just one more day, maybe two. I’ll figure something out but I’ve got to keep her happy.
Just keep her happy – just one more day, maybe two. I’ll figure something out but I’ve got to keep her happy.
When I’d finished, Mom frowned. ‘Are you sure you’ll be okay?’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ I said, walking slowly down the hall to my room. ‘Don’t worry about me.’
I’m not the one who’s going to die.
I’m not the one who’s going to die.
Fire was the only way. It was the only thing that could trap the demon and kill it for sure, with no mistakes and no chance for escape.
I have to do it – I have to stop Nobody from killing girl after girl after girl.
Brooke would die too, but she would be the last. Nobody would never again be able to sacrifice another girl’s body to fuel her own impossible quest for perfection.
I have to do it – I have to stop Nobody from killing girl after girl after girl.
Brooke would die too, but she would be the last. Nobody would never again be able to sacrifice another girl’s body to fuel her own impossible quest for perfection.
Fire would work. It was destruction embodied, and even if Nobody could regenerate, like Crowley, a good fire could keep up with her regeneration, and even surpass it. It would kill her before she could get clear of the body. All I had to do was find a good fire, or a good place to set one, and then get Brooke near enough to push her in. How could I do it without making her suspicious? Where could I do it without anyone seeing us, and trying to rescue her?
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, living with Nobody. She might actually be happy – I could keep her happy forever, keep her in that body, and we could hunt the demons together just like she said.
If I weighed the worth of lives in a pure, objective scale, Nobody and I could save hundreds, maybe thousands, if we killed just a handful of demons. The Formans of the world, the leaders of this hell community, were the biggest prize. Nobody herself might kill a few more times, but what was that compared to thousands of people, thousands of families?
If I weighed the worth of lives in a pure, objective scale, Nobody and I could save hundreds, maybe thousands, if we killed just a handful of demons. The Formans of the world, the leaders of this hell community, were the biggest prize. Nobody herself might kill a few more times, but what was that compared to thousands of people, thousands of families?
I had no idea how many other demons were out there, how many of the deaths and murders and attacks that we heard about every day were the work of this tiny, sinister subset of the population. They never aged – they’d keep killing forever if we didn’t stop them. I was willing to spend my life stopping them – wouldn’t Nobody’s host feel the same way? Wasn’t it worth one girl’s life, or two or five or even ten, to save millions?
I feel that way because I’ve made a choice,
I thought.
The girls Nobody kills don’t get that choice. Brooke never made that choice, and she never would.
She’d talked about saving people, not killing them; she’d said that the world needed more people who helped each other. But how could I make that choice when helping one person required me to kill someone else?
I thought.
The girls Nobody kills don’t get that choice. Brooke never made that choice, and she never would.
She’d talked about saving people, not killing them; she’d said that the world needed more people who helped each other. But how could I make that choice when helping one person required me to kill someone else?
Brooke didn’t get to choose, but what would she choose if she could?
She wouldn’t choose to be a killer. Certainly she wouldn’t choose to be burned alive. I squeezed my palms against my eyes, pressing them until they hurt. I thought about Marci, dead and cold. I thought about Brooke, trapped and mute while a demon moved her body like a puppet; in a few weeks she’d be dead too. I thought about Forman and Crowley, dying on the ground; I thought about their victims, their families, about Max’s lifeless eyes reflecting the hollow motion of a TV screen. I thought about my dad, gone more than half my life, perfectly alive and perfectly gone.
She wouldn’t choose to be a killer. Certainly she wouldn’t choose to be burned alive. I squeezed my palms against my eyes, pressing them until they hurt. I thought about Marci, dead and cold. I thought about Brooke, trapped and mute while a demon moved her body like a puppet; in a few weeks she’d be dead too. I thought about Forman and Crowley, dying on the ground; I thought about their victims, their families, about Max’s lifeless eyes reflecting the hollow motion of a TV screen. I thought about my dad, gone more than half my life, perfectly alive and perfectly gone.
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