This is actually a story I was working on before the contest started, but it fit the prompt. I'll probably revise it a bit before the competition's finale. Also, the title is dumb.
I normally write with a much different voice than the one I have here, but I was really interested in trying something new, so this was a way to stretch myself a bit. You could say I was... exercising my mind. I don't know if I like how it turned out, but I hope you enjoy it.
And, of course, enjoy ripping it to shreds.
Without further ado...
* * *
Dr. Thurgold told me to write this down because he said it would help me. He said that writing things down doesn't just help you explain them, it helps you understand them. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to understand, but I'm going to try because he said to.
I want to say that I'm sorry because I don't write well and I've been troubled for a while. I'm also not smart anymore, so I'm just going to say things as simply as I can. If I don't, it makes it hard for me to think straight. I told Dr. Thurgold this because I was worried that what I wrote would be bad, but he said not to worry.
Right now I'm in the Phillips Medical Center. They named it after the town, Phillips, Texas. It's small, so you might not even see it on a map. If you go to the middle of the state and then go south-east, you'll reach Phillips.
The town is small, so people in the neighborhoods know each other, which is rarer now than it used to be. At the north end of town are a few factories that process metal, and in the south is the hospital and church. In the center of the town are the schools, some stores, and our supermarket. We also have a courthouse, which I've been to. Only about three hundred people live in the town, so that's enough for us to get by. I don't know everybody but I recognize most of them.
We don't have a big supermarket like Wal-Mart or Target. We have Fred's instead. Fred's sells food and clothes and liquor and appliances and hardware and even started selling computers. I used to work there.
Fred actually isn't alive anymore. His son is named Fred too, though. Fred Jr. owns the store now. Everybody just calls him Junior, even though he's pretty old. He's a lot like his dad was. He'd be the richest man in Phillips except he gives a lot of money to the town, although he is still rich. His Dad founded the hospital and Junior helped pay to build the town's church. He still gives it money.
Junior also donated for the Phillips Annual Scholarship that his Dad started. Each year someone from the high-school gets a fair sum of money so he can go to college. Dr. Thurgold got that scholarship a while ago. He's twenty years older than me, and he came back to Phillips to work in the hospital. He's a psychologist, I think, and he's very smart.
Dr. Thurgold is a good man. He said that he'll help me sort out my troubles and then I'll be out, even though they're going to execute me when that happens. The judge said when he sentenced me that I would be executed after Dr. Thurgold made me better.
I killed six people and shot off Melody Baker's hand. They couldn't prosecute me though because Dr. Thurgold said I was mentally ill, and I would have gotten the needle if he hadn't done that. I didn't understand why they were going to kill me. Fair is fair.
I don't know if I want to get better. Right now, I sometimes get really confused and I'm not quite sure where I am or what I was doing. Then things start to get really loud and I can't handle it and I have to sit down. But if getting better means I'm going to die, then I think I'd rather stay confused.
*
Today Dr. Thurgold said I was going to write some more. He read what I wrote the last time and said I was doing very well and that I should keep going. He said that I should write about what happened.
Actually, I think he was angry but he's really good at staying calm so I'm not sure if he was mad or not. I wasn't this bad at understanding things before everything went wrong.
The day I killed those people was a bad day. I told you that I worked at Fred's, but one day Junior sat me down and told me I had to leave.
I stared at him. Junior looked down at his desk.
“This isn't easy for me, Daniel. It's just... sometimes you bother people. You start to... stare. You're a hard worker but it's happening more and more and people are complaining. I'll be happy to give you a reference, say that you just decided you wanted a change, and nobody has to know I let you go. But it'll make everybody happier if you leave.” Junior looked back up. I was watching his face now. He seemed sad. I don't know really; it's hard for me to remember. “I knew your parents and this is really hard for me. You've been like my son, Daniel, and I want what's best for you, but...”
Junior was right. I did stare a lot. I would put food on the shelves or mop the floor and then stop. I wouldn't remember anything else, just shake my head and keep going. I didn't know it bothered people.
“I've tried having you work when people aren't around, tried moving your shifts, but they still notice it Daniel. I know you've been bothered since... well, since eight years ago, and I know it's hard for you. It's hard for me, too. But you're going to have to leave. Maybe...” I didn't listen to him, after that. I just looked at him.
His hair was gray and he was getting old. He always wore the same brown pants and suspenders and white shirt. He was also gaining weight. I don't know what his face looks like now. It's been six months, since then.
When he fired me it felt like when my parents died. There was a fire in my house a long time ago, and the two of them died, and I barely got out. I lost my parents and my home. I was fifteen. I think I'm not as smart as I used to be. Doctors told me that my brain had been damaged from breathing in too much smoke. They made me take tests and said that I could still live on my own.
I remember that after the fire, things got a lot harder. Junior gave me a job, even though he wasn't supposed to because I was too young. He also let me stay in the store until I saved money and was able to pay for a house when the Marshall family moved away. The store was my home though. I didn't know that homes and houses weren't the same thing.
School was different. I had to stop going because I couldn't keep up. I don't know how to say it, but before the fire I could see how things fit together, and after it I couldn't.
My friends used to visit me at the store, but they stopped after a while. Junior was there though, and he taught me things. He helped me buy my house. He even got me a book with crafts in it. I learned how to make lots of different things with paper and cardboard and glue and things. That's usually what I did when I went back to my house.
I'm tired, so I'm going to stop writing.
*
Dr. Thurgold said that I went on a tangent last time but that it's okay because it's my writing and I can put down whatever I want. He said I should try to write about the day Junior fired me.
Junior took away my home. I don't want to talk about him. Dr. Thurgold said to, though, so I will try.
Junior fired me and was talking and I wasn't listening for a while, but then I started again. He said, “do you understand me, Daniel? Daniel?”
I stood up and looked at him. “I understand. Thank you, Junior.” He made everybody call him Junior.
“You'll be okay, right?”
I looked at his face. He looked concerned, but I think I hated him. He took away my home. He was not like a father at all. I lied and said, “Yes.”
He smiled, relieved. “You have my phone number, so use me as a reference. Please.”
“Bye.” I walked out.
“And stop by sometime. Don't be a stranger.” I closed the door to his office behind me.
I decided to buy a gun so I could kill him for taking away my home. I went to Mr. Windle's store, which was named after him.
Buying the gun was easy. I knew Mr. Windle because he lived in my neighborhood, and he would talk to me about rabbits that dug up his lawn. I was not a criminal and he thought I still had a job, so that meant I could buy a gun from him. Having a job was important to Mr. Windle, and he wouldn't sell a firearm to anyone without one. “Can't have just any bum walkin' around with a weapon. Gotta be somebody you can trust,” he would say. He thought that I still worked at Fred's, so I didn't tell him I'd been fired.
I purchased a shotgun. I asked him how the rabbit problem was coming. I told him I'd seen somebody strange in the neighborhood. I said that I didn't want to hurt the stranger, just maybe fire a shot in the air to scare him off, but if he was dangerous I wanted to protect myself. He was coming late at night and nobody else had seen him, I said.
Mr. Windle also didn't like strangers, which is how I knew this would work.
Mr. Windle said he'd keep an eye out for me, and ran my credit card, and gave me the gun. He told me that if I needed to fire it more than just once I would have to grab the pump handle and pull it towards me, then push it back to reload. I said thank you and left.
I walked down the street holding the gun in one hand and a box of shells under my arm. People in Phillips don't care if you carry a gun outside. Everybody knows each other, and we all know Mr. Windle wouldn't sell a gun to anybody who shouldn't have one, which is why I was carrying it. I walked back to the front door of Fred's.
This is the hard part. I don't want to write about it.
*
Dr. Thurgold read everything yesterday and told me I had to keep writing. He said I was doing great, and I was just getting to the hard part, and that I needed to work through it or else the trouble wouldn't end. I trust him, so I'm going to try anyhow.
It was late when I got to the store, so there weren't many people near the entrance. Nobody saw me loading shells into the gun. I went inside and walked towards the back, still holding the gun.
Nobody screamed until after I went into Junior's office. He looked up, and I can't remember if he looked scared when I raised the gun and shot him in the chest. I don't think he understood what I was doing.
I turned and walked out. I just killed Junior and it's like I'd checked inside for my coat and hadn't seen it. It didn't make me feel better at all.
After stepping outside of Junior's office, I stopped. I didn't know what else I wanted to do. I still didn't have my home, and killing Junior hadn't brought it back.
I think it is like when you want to eat something sweet, so you do, but it tastes good and it makes you want to have more. Maybe shooting Junior felt good which is why I decided to shoot all the other people. I don't remember, but maybe that's it.
I looked around and went to the front of the store, and walked over to Wendy, the girl behind the register. She was the only one working at the counter tonight, and had started screaming after I shot Junior. Why didn't she leave? She saw me and screamed louder.
I pumped the barrel down, like Mr. Windle told me to, and I fired at her. Some of the blast went into her face, through her lower jaw, and the rest hit her throat and upper chest. She fell backwards against her station and slid down in a weird way. She kept gasping, like she was still alive. She died though.
I turned around. There was an old couple, Mr. and Mrs. Thurgold, standing in front of aisle six. They were Dr. Thurgold's parents, and each were eighty-seven years old, and had been high-school sweethearts, Junior said. He used to say that they were still as in love as the day they met. I walked towards them. Mr. Thurgold stood with his wife behind him and was cursing at me, and he kept cursing when I lifted the gun and shot him square in the chest. He fell over backwards, on top of his wife, who sobbed.
Mrs. Thurgold kept making those noises until I went over and kicked Mr. Thurgold off her. She raised her arms in front of her face, and I aimed down and shot again. She went quiet.
I heard footsteps and saw Bryan Mack, who helped me stack merchandise on the shelves. He was still in his store uniform, and was running for the door. I leveled the gun and followed his path, firing again. It missed mostly, but it must have hit his legs or something because he fell. I went over and fired another shot into his chest. Before I fired, he asked me not to kill him, but I did anyway.
I looked and saw three more people. They were in the dairy aisle. One of them was Melody Baker. She was with her boyfriend, David. He was really big, and made fun of me a bit, but I wasn't mad at him about it. He yelled something and ran straight at me. I think Melody screamed “No!” I shot anyhow. It hit him in the face and he fell backwards while still going forward. I kind of thought it was funny but I didn't laugh.
I looked up and couldn't see Melody, so I walked to where she had been standing. She was ducked down, behind a small counter area. It's where we would put yogurt and cheese, and was kind of like a little island in between the bread and the dairy sections. I walked around and pointed the gun at her.
She had her hands over her head and was crying. She said, “oh God,” a lot. She played the piano at the Church. Everybody said she was really good, for her age. She was seventeen.
I remembered when she played at a recital at the high-school, and Junior told me I should go to listen to the school perform. I didn't have anything to do after the store closed, so I went; she played a sad song, and it came into my head. It reminded me of my parents.
I didn't want her to play the song again.
“Please lift your hands into the air.”
She didn't listen so I repeated what I said. Crying, she put both hands in the air and I lifted the gun. I think she realized what I was going to do because she started screaming at me, begging me not to, but I shot. There was a lot of red everywhere and her screams got louder. She clutched one of her arms and cried and screamed and called me a *******. I aimed down and pulled the trigger again but there weren't anymore shells in the gun. I was out of ammunition and didn't know how to reload, so I just dropped the gun and walked back to the front. Police were arriving now. Somebody must have called them.
I remember being surrounded by people with guns. Red and blue sirens were everywhere. I was handcuffed, and pushed into a car.
There's a lot that I don't remember after that. I just sort of sat and stared while everything happened around me. People asked me questions and I answered them.
Jail was not hard, because they kept me alone and fed me. Our police-station had a holding cell and did not take me to a bigger jail anywhere else. I didn't have to stay there for long before I went on trial.
I remember when they were holding me before the trial that Dr. Thurgold came. He also asked me questions about what happened. He wrote a lot of things down, and left. I didn't really know him at the time.
The charge was six counts of murder, and one count of attempted murder as well as a count for mutilation. When they announced the charge, Melody started screaming at me. She called me a ******* again and told me to die. Some people had to take her out of the court room. Dr. Thurgold later told me that she insisted on coming, even though she had to be brought in a wheelchair.
There were only a few witnesses, and they all said the same thing, except for Mr. Windle who told them about the gun and what I said to him. When I was called up I also told everybody what I did. My lawyer asked if I regretted what I'd done. I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything.
Dr. Thurgold went to the stand in my defense. All the questions he had asked me were part of a "psychological profile to determine my mental health," and he said that I was no longer in my right mind. He said that unless I was rehabilitated, it would be illegal and wrong to execute me.
It surprised me when he went up to defend me. When the other lawyer took his turn, he asked Dr. Thurgold if he knew that I killed his parents. I think it was really rude for the lawyer to say that.
I remember what Dr. Thurgold said because it made me respect him: “Well sir, I won't say whether or not I want him dead. But we cannot in good conscience execute a man who doesn't understand the severity of his crimes. Daniel clearly could not comprehend his own actions, and does not comprehend them now. It would be wrong for us to kill him. If, in time, he feels bad for what he has done, and comes to understand everything that has happened, then I will release him for his punishment.” That's what he said, exactly. I remember it.
That's how I know Dr. Thurgold is a good man. He didn't want to execute me even though I killed his parents. I think he's the reason the jury decided not to kill me. I did not think that he would be allowed to testify in court because of "bias" but since he was defending me it didn't count.
I'm done.
*
I had another session with Dr. Thurgold.
I sat in my chair in his office. He looked serious.
“Well Daniel, before we start today, is there anything you want to ask me?”
“No.”
He looked at me more and seemed to get more serious.
“Daniel, I want you to know something. I care about everybody in this town. I loved my parents, I loved Junior, and everybody who came into this hospital.
“My parents saved up money for years before I was even born. They thought it all through. They only had me, and made sure they had enough money so that I could go to college. They told me that if I learned and worked hard, I could make it anywhere I wanted. They told me that I should have every chance to make it as far as I can.
“So because of them, I worked and studied and got to be the top of my class, and then Junior gave me that scholarship, and I went to college and medical school. I got a job, and with my parents' help and the scholarship and the money I made, I managed to make it.
“So I'm back now, and I want to give back to this town, Daniel. It's done so much for me, and it has helped me learn so much that the least I could do is give back to it. Show people what happens when you work hard and have people who love you and help you along. And I want everyone here to know I really care about them.
"I want you to understand all that, and that's why I'm helping you get better.”
His voice didn't change the whole way through. I thought I saw a tear, but he was so calm that I think I just imagined it. When he was done talking he just looked down at his desk, quiet.
I think I understood though.
“Doctor, I want to get better too.”
Dr. Thurgold looked up at me. I couldn't tell what he was thinking. I remember when I was little and in grade-school and another kid was trying to solve a jigsaw puzzle. His face was really serious, trying to make sense of how everything fit together. Dr. Thurgold's face looked like that.
Then he smiled a little. I noticed this because he usually did not smile or ever seem mad.
We continued with the session, and he asked me questions about what happened and how I felt. He told me to write some more, if I wanted.
So when he reads this I want him to know that I'm really sorry, and I'm sorry for everybody else, and that I do understand. I'm going to get better and then I'll die, but that will make everything right. That's all I can really think of right now.
*
Dr. Thurgold told me I don't need to write if I don't want to, but I want to even though I don't have much else to say.
He told me today that he decided I was incurable. I was very upset to hear this because it means that they can't kill me and I won't be punished for what I did. Now, I'm going to be in the hospital for the rest of my life and Dr. Thurgold is going to make sure I don't get worse.
I thought I understood, but I guess I still don't. I hope Dr. Thurgold's wrong and that I can still get better.
I normally write with a much different voice than the one I have here, but I was really interested in trying something new, so this was a way to stretch myself a bit. You could say I was... exercising my mind. I don't know if I like how it turned out, but I hope you enjoy it.
And, of course, enjoy ripping it to shreds.
Without further ado...
* * *
Dr. Thurgold told me to write this down because he said it would help me. He said that writing things down doesn't just help you explain them, it helps you understand them. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to understand, but I'm going to try because he said to.
I want to say that I'm sorry because I don't write well and I've been troubled for a while. I'm also not smart anymore, so I'm just going to say things as simply as I can. If I don't, it makes it hard for me to think straight. I told Dr. Thurgold this because I was worried that what I wrote would be bad, but he said not to worry.
Right now I'm in the Phillips Medical Center. They named it after the town, Phillips, Texas. It's small, so you might not even see it on a map. If you go to the middle of the state and then go south-east, you'll reach Phillips.
The town is small, so people in the neighborhoods know each other, which is rarer now than it used to be. At the north end of town are a few factories that process metal, and in the south is the hospital and church. In the center of the town are the schools, some stores, and our supermarket. We also have a courthouse, which I've been to. Only about three hundred people live in the town, so that's enough for us to get by. I don't know everybody but I recognize most of them.
We don't have a big supermarket like Wal-Mart or Target. We have Fred's instead. Fred's sells food and clothes and liquor and appliances and hardware and even started selling computers. I used to work there.
Fred actually isn't alive anymore. His son is named Fred too, though. Fred Jr. owns the store now. Everybody just calls him Junior, even though he's pretty old. He's a lot like his dad was. He'd be the richest man in Phillips except he gives a lot of money to the town, although he is still rich. His Dad founded the hospital and Junior helped pay to build the town's church. He still gives it money.
Junior also donated for the Phillips Annual Scholarship that his Dad started. Each year someone from the high-school gets a fair sum of money so he can go to college. Dr. Thurgold got that scholarship a while ago. He's twenty years older than me, and he came back to Phillips to work in the hospital. He's a psychologist, I think, and he's very smart.
Dr. Thurgold is a good man. He said that he'll help me sort out my troubles and then I'll be out, even though they're going to execute me when that happens. The judge said when he sentenced me that I would be executed after Dr. Thurgold made me better.
I killed six people and shot off Melody Baker's hand. They couldn't prosecute me though because Dr. Thurgold said I was mentally ill, and I would have gotten the needle if he hadn't done that. I didn't understand why they were going to kill me. Fair is fair.
I don't know if I want to get better. Right now, I sometimes get really confused and I'm not quite sure where I am or what I was doing. Then things start to get really loud and I can't handle it and I have to sit down. But if getting better means I'm going to die, then I think I'd rather stay confused.
*
Today Dr. Thurgold said I was going to write some more. He read what I wrote the last time and said I was doing very well and that I should keep going. He said that I should write about what happened.
Actually, I think he was angry but he's really good at staying calm so I'm not sure if he was mad or not. I wasn't this bad at understanding things before everything went wrong.
The day I killed those people was a bad day. I told you that I worked at Fred's, but one day Junior sat me down and told me I had to leave.
I stared at him. Junior looked down at his desk.
“This isn't easy for me, Daniel. It's just... sometimes you bother people. You start to... stare. You're a hard worker but it's happening more and more and people are complaining. I'll be happy to give you a reference, say that you just decided you wanted a change, and nobody has to know I let you go. But it'll make everybody happier if you leave.” Junior looked back up. I was watching his face now. He seemed sad. I don't know really; it's hard for me to remember. “I knew your parents and this is really hard for me. You've been like my son, Daniel, and I want what's best for you, but...”
Junior was right. I did stare a lot. I would put food on the shelves or mop the floor and then stop. I wouldn't remember anything else, just shake my head and keep going. I didn't know it bothered people.
“I've tried having you work when people aren't around, tried moving your shifts, but they still notice it Daniel. I know you've been bothered since... well, since eight years ago, and I know it's hard for you. It's hard for me, too. But you're going to have to leave. Maybe...” I didn't listen to him, after that. I just looked at him.
His hair was gray and he was getting old. He always wore the same brown pants and suspenders and white shirt. He was also gaining weight. I don't know what his face looks like now. It's been six months, since then.
When he fired me it felt like when my parents died. There was a fire in my house a long time ago, and the two of them died, and I barely got out. I lost my parents and my home. I was fifteen. I think I'm not as smart as I used to be. Doctors told me that my brain had been damaged from breathing in too much smoke. They made me take tests and said that I could still live on my own.
I remember that after the fire, things got a lot harder. Junior gave me a job, even though he wasn't supposed to because I was too young. He also let me stay in the store until I saved money and was able to pay for a house when the Marshall family moved away. The store was my home though. I didn't know that homes and houses weren't the same thing.
School was different. I had to stop going because I couldn't keep up. I don't know how to say it, but before the fire I could see how things fit together, and after it I couldn't.
My friends used to visit me at the store, but they stopped after a while. Junior was there though, and he taught me things. He helped me buy my house. He even got me a book with crafts in it. I learned how to make lots of different things with paper and cardboard and glue and things. That's usually what I did when I went back to my house.
I'm tired, so I'm going to stop writing.
*
Dr. Thurgold said that I went on a tangent last time but that it's okay because it's my writing and I can put down whatever I want. He said I should try to write about the day Junior fired me.
Junior took away my home. I don't want to talk about him. Dr. Thurgold said to, though, so I will try.
Junior fired me and was talking and I wasn't listening for a while, but then I started again. He said, “do you understand me, Daniel? Daniel?”
I stood up and looked at him. “I understand. Thank you, Junior.” He made everybody call him Junior.
“You'll be okay, right?”
I looked at his face. He looked concerned, but I think I hated him. He took away my home. He was not like a father at all. I lied and said, “Yes.”
He smiled, relieved. “You have my phone number, so use me as a reference. Please.”
“Bye.” I walked out.
“And stop by sometime. Don't be a stranger.” I closed the door to his office behind me.
I decided to buy a gun so I could kill him for taking away my home. I went to Mr. Windle's store, which was named after him.
Buying the gun was easy. I knew Mr. Windle because he lived in my neighborhood, and he would talk to me about rabbits that dug up his lawn. I was not a criminal and he thought I still had a job, so that meant I could buy a gun from him. Having a job was important to Mr. Windle, and he wouldn't sell a firearm to anyone without one. “Can't have just any bum walkin' around with a weapon. Gotta be somebody you can trust,” he would say. He thought that I still worked at Fred's, so I didn't tell him I'd been fired.
I purchased a shotgun. I asked him how the rabbit problem was coming. I told him I'd seen somebody strange in the neighborhood. I said that I didn't want to hurt the stranger, just maybe fire a shot in the air to scare him off, but if he was dangerous I wanted to protect myself. He was coming late at night and nobody else had seen him, I said.
Mr. Windle also didn't like strangers, which is how I knew this would work.
Mr. Windle said he'd keep an eye out for me, and ran my credit card, and gave me the gun. He told me that if I needed to fire it more than just once I would have to grab the pump handle and pull it towards me, then push it back to reload. I said thank you and left.
I walked down the street holding the gun in one hand and a box of shells under my arm. People in Phillips don't care if you carry a gun outside. Everybody knows each other, and we all know Mr. Windle wouldn't sell a gun to anybody who shouldn't have one, which is why I was carrying it. I walked back to the front door of Fred's.
This is the hard part. I don't want to write about it.
*
Dr. Thurgold read everything yesterday and told me I had to keep writing. He said I was doing great, and I was just getting to the hard part, and that I needed to work through it or else the trouble wouldn't end. I trust him, so I'm going to try anyhow.
It was late when I got to the store, so there weren't many people near the entrance. Nobody saw me loading shells into the gun. I went inside and walked towards the back, still holding the gun.
Nobody screamed until after I went into Junior's office. He looked up, and I can't remember if he looked scared when I raised the gun and shot him in the chest. I don't think he understood what I was doing.
I turned and walked out. I just killed Junior and it's like I'd checked inside for my coat and hadn't seen it. It didn't make me feel better at all.
After stepping outside of Junior's office, I stopped. I didn't know what else I wanted to do. I still didn't have my home, and killing Junior hadn't brought it back.
I think it is like when you want to eat something sweet, so you do, but it tastes good and it makes you want to have more. Maybe shooting Junior felt good which is why I decided to shoot all the other people. I don't remember, but maybe that's it.
I looked around and went to the front of the store, and walked over to Wendy, the girl behind the register. She was the only one working at the counter tonight, and had started screaming after I shot Junior. Why didn't she leave? She saw me and screamed louder.
I pumped the barrel down, like Mr. Windle told me to, and I fired at her. Some of the blast went into her face, through her lower jaw, and the rest hit her throat and upper chest. She fell backwards against her station and slid down in a weird way. She kept gasping, like she was still alive. She died though.
I turned around. There was an old couple, Mr. and Mrs. Thurgold, standing in front of aisle six. They were Dr. Thurgold's parents, and each were eighty-seven years old, and had been high-school sweethearts, Junior said. He used to say that they were still as in love as the day they met. I walked towards them. Mr. Thurgold stood with his wife behind him and was cursing at me, and he kept cursing when I lifted the gun and shot him square in the chest. He fell over backwards, on top of his wife, who sobbed.
Mrs. Thurgold kept making those noises until I went over and kicked Mr. Thurgold off her. She raised her arms in front of her face, and I aimed down and shot again. She went quiet.
I heard footsteps and saw Bryan Mack, who helped me stack merchandise on the shelves. He was still in his store uniform, and was running for the door. I leveled the gun and followed his path, firing again. It missed mostly, but it must have hit his legs or something because he fell. I went over and fired another shot into his chest. Before I fired, he asked me not to kill him, but I did anyway.
I looked and saw three more people. They were in the dairy aisle. One of them was Melody Baker. She was with her boyfriend, David. He was really big, and made fun of me a bit, but I wasn't mad at him about it. He yelled something and ran straight at me. I think Melody screamed “No!” I shot anyhow. It hit him in the face and he fell backwards while still going forward. I kind of thought it was funny but I didn't laugh.
I looked up and couldn't see Melody, so I walked to where she had been standing. She was ducked down, behind a small counter area. It's where we would put yogurt and cheese, and was kind of like a little island in between the bread and the dairy sections. I walked around and pointed the gun at her.
She had her hands over her head and was crying. She said, “oh God,” a lot. She played the piano at the Church. Everybody said she was really good, for her age. She was seventeen.
I remembered when she played at a recital at the high-school, and Junior told me I should go to listen to the school perform. I didn't have anything to do after the store closed, so I went; she played a sad song, and it came into my head. It reminded me of my parents.
I didn't want her to play the song again.
“Please lift your hands into the air.”
She didn't listen so I repeated what I said. Crying, she put both hands in the air and I lifted the gun. I think she realized what I was going to do because she started screaming at me, begging me not to, but I shot. There was a lot of red everywhere and her screams got louder. She clutched one of her arms and cried and screamed and called me a *******. I aimed down and pulled the trigger again but there weren't anymore shells in the gun. I was out of ammunition and didn't know how to reload, so I just dropped the gun and walked back to the front. Police were arriving now. Somebody must have called them.
I remember being surrounded by people with guns. Red and blue sirens were everywhere. I was handcuffed, and pushed into a car.
There's a lot that I don't remember after that. I just sort of sat and stared while everything happened around me. People asked me questions and I answered them.
Jail was not hard, because they kept me alone and fed me. Our police-station had a holding cell and did not take me to a bigger jail anywhere else. I didn't have to stay there for long before I went on trial.
I remember when they were holding me before the trial that Dr. Thurgold came. He also asked me questions about what happened. He wrote a lot of things down, and left. I didn't really know him at the time.
The charge was six counts of murder, and one count of attempted murder as well as a count for mutilation. When they announced the charge, Melody started screaming at me. She called me a ******* again and told me to die. Some people had to take her out of the court room. Dr. Thurgold later told me that she insisted on coming, even though she had to be brought in a wheelchair.
There were only a few witnesses, and they all said the same thing, except for Mr. Windle who told them about the gun and what I said to him. When I was called up I also told everybody what I did. My lawyer asked if I regretted what I'd done. I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything.
Dr. Thurgold went to the stand in my defense. All the questions he had asked me were part of a "psychological profile to determine my mental health," and he said that I was no longer in my right mind. He said that unless I was rehabilitated, it would be illegal and wrong to execute me.
It surprised me when he went up to defend me. When the other lawyer took his turn, he asked Dr. Thurgold if he knew that I killed his parents. I think it was really rude for the lawyer to say that.
I remember what Dr. Thurgold said because it made me respect him: “Well sir, I won't say whether or not I want him dead. But we cannot in good conscience execute a man who doesn't understand the severity of his crimes. Daniel clearly could not comprehend his own actions, and does not comprehend them now. It would be wrong for us to kill him. If, in time, he feels bad for what he has done, and comes to understand everything that has happened, then I will release him for his punishment.” That's what he said, exactly. I remember it.
That's how I know Dr. Thurgold is a good man. He didn't want to execute me even though I killed his parents. I think he's the reason the jury decided not to kill me. I did not think that he would be allowed to testify in court because of "bias" but since he was defending me it didn't count.
I'm done.
*
I had another session with Dr. Thurgold.
I sat in my chair in his office. He looked serious.
“Well Daniel, before we start today, is there anything you want to ask me?”
“No.”
He looked at me more and seemed to get more serious.
“Daniel, I want you to know something. I care about everybody in this town. I loved my parents, I loved Junior, and everybody who came into this hospital.
“My parents saved up money for years before I was even born. They thought it all through. They only had me, and made sure they had enough money so that I could go to college. They told me that if I learned and worked hard, I could make it anywhere I wanted. They told me that I should have every chance to make it as far as I can.
“So because of them, I worked and studied and got to be the top of my class, and then Junior gave me that scholarship, and I went to college and medical school. I got a job, and with my parents' help and the scholarship and the money I made, I managed to make it.
“So I'm back now, and I want to give back to this town, Daniel. It's done so much for me, and it has helped me learn so much that the least I could do is give back to it. Show people what happens when you work hard and have people who love you and help you along. And I want everyone here to know I really care about them.
"I want you to understand all that, and that's why I'm helping you get better.”
His voice didn't change the whole way through. I thought I saw a tear, but he was so calm that I think I just imagined it. When he was done talking he just looked down at his desk, quiet.
I think I understood though.
“Doctor, I want to get better too.”
Dr. Thurgold looked up at me. I couldn't tell what he was thinking. I remember when I was little and in grade-school and another kid was trying to solve a jigsaw puzzle. His face was really serious, trying to make sense of how everything fit together. Dr. Thurgold's face looked like that.
Then he smiled a little. I noticed this because he usually did not smile or ever seem mad.
We continued with the session, and he asked me questions about what happened and how I felt. He told me to write some more, if I wanted.
So when he reads this I want him to know that I'm really sorry, and I'm sorry for everybody else, and that I do understand. I'm going to get better and then I'll die, but that will make everything right. That's all I can really think of right now.
*
Dr. Thurgold told me I don't need to write if I don't want to, but I want to even though I don't have much else to say.
He told me today that he decided I was incurable. I was very upset to hear this because it means that they can't kill me and I won't be punished for what I did. Now, I'm going to be in the hospital for the rest of my life and Dr. Thurgold is going to make sure I don't get worse.
I thought I understood, but I guess I still don't. I hope Dr. Thurgold's wrong and that I can still get better.
