Melancholia by Elle Casey
Standing at the bottom of the stairs, I had a terrible feeling I knew what was going on. Malcolm was in the corner of the room, over near the cots, as far from the gun room as he could get without leaving the panic room entirely. He looked horribly guilt-ridden.
“What happened?” I asked him, torn between following everyone into the other room and staying to find out why he looked so stricken.
“Just get in there,” he said, defeat in his tone. “You’re the only one who can save him, I think.”
“Rae!” screamed Jasmine. “Rae! I need you, Rae! Please!”
“Yeah, Rae, you better hurry up,” added Kootch.
My heart leaped into my throat and I felt like vomiting, but I ran. I ran right for the ammunition room where I knew tragedy awaited. I was shocked at what I saw when I reached the entrance to the room.
Mr. Butts was at the far end of the space pointing a handgun at the side of his head. Tears were streaming down his beet-red face. Even his nose was dripping, but he wasn’t doing anything about it. He just leaned against a wall partially slumped over, moaning and babbling something about pain and darkness.
“What the hell is wrong with him?” asked Kootch. He stood off to the side, looking confused and scared, like a little kid.
“Rae, you have to help him,” said Jasmine, tripping over to me, grabbing onto my arm when she got close and shaking it hard.
“Me? I … what can I do?” I looked at Jasmine’s mom. She was standing diagonally to Mr. Butts, her hand out in a calming gesture, making sounds and murmuring things I couldn’t hear very well.
“You need to erase what Malcolm did,” said Jasmine, her voice strained and high. “You have to reverse it.” She was crying openly now. Her grip on my arm felt like eagle claws digging into my flesh, but I didn’t brush her off. My touch couldn’t hurt her since she was a Neutral, and I knew she was just panicking.
“Why are you blaming Malcolm for this? What did Malcolm do?” I looked over my shoulder, but I couldn’t see out into the main room.
“I think my dad made him touch him … show him the dark stuff. You have to undo it.” She pulled me towards her father.
I dug my heels in, frightened by the desperate look to his whole posture and expression, and the obvious lack of sanity I saw there. “I … can’t … I … I’m afraid I’ll hurt him.”
“Hurt him? Shut up!” screamed Jasmine, an unhinged tone creeping into her speech. “You can’t possibly make him worse! Now get over there and give him a Rainbow whammy or you’re never going to be my friend ever! Do you understand me?! Ever!”
Her words cut me like a knife. The last twenty-four hours had been my whole life concentrated down to its worst parts: Find a friend, lose a friend. Meet people, hurt people. Get too close, have to leave. I wanted to cry right along with her.
Mrs. Butts looked over at me, panic evident in her expression. It scared me almost as much as Mr. Butts’ breakdown. “Please, Rae,” she said, “if you can do anything, please try. I’m confident he won’t use the weapon on you or I wouldn’t ask.”
I wasn’t so sure about that, but I knew I couldn’t just stand there and not try. Besides, a bullet to the brain was a solution I’d considered before, but I’d always been too chicken to go through with it. Maybe this was how I was supposed to leave this world, letting someone else do the dirty work. It made me ashamed to think about using his distress to ease my own.
I stepped around Jasmine, avoiding looking at her eyes. I couldn’t blame her for playing the friendship card on me; I would have done the same for someone I loved, had I ever loved someone like that. It was probably jealousy that kept me from acknowledging her statement. She had no idea how lucky she was.
I walked up to stand next to Mrs. Butts, trying to soak up some of her courage. “What do you want me to do?” By this time, Mr. Butts had slid down the wall to sit on the floor and had one arm resting sideways over his bent knees. He still wept, but his head was on his forearm, while the hand holding the gun rested against his ear, pointed at the ceiling. The sobbing wasn’t quite as pronounced or loud as it had been when I first came into the room.
Mrs. Butts pointed to her husband. “I need you to go over there and do whatever it is you do.” She looked at me, searching my face. I think she was trying to find hope there. Her voice softened. “Use your influence on him. The yin to Malcolm’s yang.”
“What if I … what if I can’t help?” The pressure was killing me, making me feel like I was going to stroke out right there in their basement. I’d never had anyone count on me for something so important. This grown man, this veteran of the military who probably kicked butt all over the world, was very possibly going to shoot himself right in front of me. Nothing in my life had prepared me for this horror.
Her nostrils flared as she got control of her emotions. “It’s not your fault. Whatever happens here is not your fault. Please, just try.”
I nodded. She was a brave lady. I wanted to be strong like her. Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and faced Mr. Butts. Here goes nothing. “Mr. Butts …”
“His name is Joe,” said Jasmine from behind me. “Call him Joe.”
“Joe … I want to come over there. Do you mind if I come closer?” My legs were shaking with the stress and fear. My feet didn’t want to move. Everything in my body was telling me to go the other direction, to run, run, run far away from this place and these people.
He didn’t acknowledge me, lost in his own world.
I forced my feet to move and walked towards him quietly, never taking my eyes completely off the gun. Stopping directly in front of him, I squatted down so we could be face-to-face. I spoke in as calm a voice as I could manage. “Joe, hi. It’s me … Rae. I stayed here in your house last night. I don’t know if you remember.”
“I remember,” he said, through tears. “I remember everything.”
“Good. I think something happened to you and made you sad. More sad than you’ve ever been before, maybe. More sad than you know how to handle. I’m going to try and help you, okay?”
“There’s no help,” he moaned. “No help. No peace for the wicked.”
“You’re not wicked, Joe. You’re not wicked.” His words tore me up inside. I really needed him to stop feeling so awful. I wasn’t used to seeing this kind of pain around me. Usually, it was the opposite, with just me feeling the sadness of my life while others danced around in the light.
“You don’t know,” he moaned. “You don’t know me … the things I’ve done …”
“Shhh, I’m just going to put my hand on your arm, okay?” Whatever confessions he was about to make, I wasn’t interested in hearing them. I had a feeling no one had ever heard them before, and they probably weren’t something for his teenage daughter to hear if they involved his past.
His head jerked up. “No! Don’t touch me!” The hand that had been across his knees fell to his side and hit the floor. “Stay away.” He tried to press up against the wall more, get away from me, but there was nowhere for him to go. He was frightened but weak.
Ignoring the gun that was thankfully still pointed at the ceiling and resting sideways against his head, I put my hand on his leg. “See? No big deal. I’m just touching your knee. I won’t hurt you.”
He stared at my hand for a few seconds. It seemed like a full minute had passed by before he spoke.
“It doesn’t hurt.”
“I hope not,” I said, feeling less frightened at the expression on his face. Some of the stark fear was being replaced by curiosity.
“There’s no pain,” he said.
“Right,” I replied, not knowing how else to respond.
He sniffed hard, picking his hand up to wipe his face. “What’s happening?” he asked, looking only at me, his eyes locked on mine as if he were drowning and staring at me would save him.
“I think you’re coming out of the darkness. I want to touch you with my other hand, now. Is that okay?”
He nodded, remindi
“I need you to put the gun down, though. I’m afraid of the gun.”
He looked up at his hand next to his head, appearing surprised to see it there. He watched his own arm lower the gun to the ground, as if it belonged to someone else.
As soon as he let the weapon go, I put my hand on his bare arm. Lifting it up to his knee, I rested his hand there. “Put your other hand there, on your other knee.” I looked at it pointedly, using my gaze to direct him.
His hand moved as if he were hypnotized. I placed my other hand on his, and together we sat in front of each other, me with my palms going warm over his. “Better?” I asked, smiling through the last remnants of panic that were refusing to totally leave my body.
“Yes. Better.” He cleared his throat. “What did you do to chase away the demons?”
My voice caught and didn’t want to come out. I coughed to the side to get back on track, to get my voice working again. I hadn’t expected to hear that word. Demons.
“I just got you back to the real world. You were lost in a … dream state or something.” That’s it. Play it off. We’re cool. Nothing to see here. Move along.
“Don’t over-juice him,” said Jasmine. “I don’t want him trying to make out with you like Kootch did.” She sounded happy now. Relieved. I guess I was back on the good friend list.
I wasn’t sure how I felt being off the list so fast and then back on again like she hadn’t threatened to hate me forever, but now wasn’t the time to be thinking about girl-friend drama. My work wasn’t done here yet. Wherever Joe had gone, it wasn’t any place I’d ever seen a Rainbow go before. I wanted to be sure he wouldn’t fall back in when I let go.
“You let me know when you’re feeling normal again, like … your regular happy self, and I’ll let you go.”
“I’m not sure I can do that,” said Joe, giving me a half smile that looked pitiful on his tear-stained face. “I’ll do just about anything never to go back to that dark place again. I’m ready to overdose on whatever drug you’re pumping into my system right now.”
“I think that’s enough, don’t you, sweetie?” asked Mrs. Butts, stepping over to stand at my side.
She wasn’t talking to me, but I responded anyway. I nodded and pulled my hands free, standing. I backed away from her touch and from Joe, moving until I was even with Jasmine.
“Nicely done, Rainbow maker,” said Kootch.
“Don’t call me that,” I said, feeling hollow inside. All I wanted to do now was leave. What Malcolm and I could do to people was wrong. We hurt people. We needed to get away from them.
“Better than being the friggin’ darth vader of awful,” snickered Kootch.
I turned around to scowl at him for being so thoughtless and caught Malcolm’s stricken expression in the doorway, right before he spun around and fled up the stairs without a word.
Chapter Eight: Malcolm
I HEARD MURMURING IN THE other room and crying too. Knowing I’d caused all of it made me sick and angry at myself. I knew better. I knew better! I should have told Mr. Butts to get bent and left this whole place without a backward glance. It was stupid to think I could fit in with whatever was going on here.
I crept over to the armory room and tried to hear what they were saying, hoping like hell Rae could erase the damage I’d caused. I got there in time to see her with her hands on Mr. Butts’ knees. She was saying something to him, and he was smiling. He looked a lot better than he had the last time I’d seen him; at least now he wasn’t acting like he was being attacked by the grim reaper or something.
Rae stood and backed away.
Kootch spoke up, grinning hugely. “Nicely done, Rainbow maker.”
I cringed, knowing how Rae would hate that nickname.
“Don’t call me that,” she said, sounding depressed.
“Better than being the friggin’ darth vader of awful.” Kootch crossed his arms over his chest and turned around. When he saw me standing there his jaw dropped open.
My heart stopped beating for a few seconds, and my face flamed red with shame. He was completely right. And then Rae turned around and stared at me. I couldn’t take the anger I saw on her face. I ran.
I pounded up the steps, taking two at a time, pushing through the partially open door at the top. Falling out of the closet, I stumbled through the computer room and down the hallway, vaulting over the couch on my way to the front door. I flew like the hounds of hell were at my heels. My past was catching up to me and there was nothing more I wanted to do than outrun it for once.
The deadbolt on the front door moved easily, but as soon as I cracked the door open, the beeping started. Fucking alarm! I ignored it, running out the door and down the front steps. Maybe getting the cops here was for the best.
I stopped at the bottom, looking left and right as I oriented myself. There was no one outside, but I assumed the cop cars had to be close. I had to get back to my place and get my few meager possessions before I headed out of town.
“Stop!” yelled someone from inside. Kootch. Asshole. He’d only spoken the truth before, but that didn’t mean it felt good hearing it.
I took off across the grass. The beeping of the alarm stopped.
Kootch’s voice came from the front of the house loud and clear. “Stop, dickcheese! Stop or I’ll take you out!”
“Go to hell!” I yelled, not looking back.
I made it almost to the sidewalk when a weight that felt like a frigging truck hit me from behind.
“Oooph!” The air flew out of my lungs and didn’t come back for a full five seconds. I laid on the ground under a hundred and seventy pounds of muscle and stink, gasping for my next breath.
“You aren’t running away, dude,” grunted Kootch. “I’m not letting you do that.”
“Oh my God, Kootch! What are you doing?!” yelled Jasmine, running in our direction. The pounding of her feet reverberated through the manicured lawn.
“He was trying to get away! I had to stop him.” Kootch rolled off me, making sure to pound me in the shoulder once before completely letting me free.
“Fucker,” I said, my face still partially in the grass. It smelled musty, like snail shit or something.
“I’m not the fucker, you’re the fucker.” He scowled at me.
I rolled over and sat up, nursing my bruised shoulder as I glared at him. “Why’d you punch me, dick?”
“Because, you made me do all this bullshit exercise and you also got my pancakes all mushy. I’m takin’ yours.” He stood up slowly, limping a little until he got his footing back. He walked all the way across the grass and into the house without looking at me or Jasmine.
“I’m not going to breakfast,” I said, standing up.
Jasmine came over and stood right in front of me. Even though she’d just seen me send her dad into the darkest place on Earth, she didn’t seem to care.
“Listen up, ball sack, because I’m only going to say this once. That shit? Is not your fault. It’s not your problem that my dad tried to commit suicide by superpower, okay? He’s the dumbass, not you.”
“You’re dad’s not a dumbass.”
“Yes, he is! I told him what would happen, but did he listen? No. Only dumbasses don’t listen to me and have to test my theories out for themselves.” She grinned. “But thanks to you, now he believes me, and I’m sure next time I bless him with my brilliance he’ll listen. You have no idea how hard I have to work to penetrate that thick skull of his sometimes.” She walked around and put her hand on my back, trying to push me towards the front door. “Get in the house and eat some of the damn pancakes so I don’t have to hurt you.”
“I appreciate what you’re doing, Jasmine, but no thanks.” I refused to move forward.
She stood in front of me again, her arms flying up. “What? So you’re just going to give up on Rae? On life? Is that it? Walk away crying to yourself about how you can’t live in the real world and can never have any friends o
She made me feel like a stupid crybaby. “I don’t do that.”
“Yeah, you do. Boo hoo, I’m darth vader, I make people cry, poor me.”
She was angry, and anger makes people say stupid shit, so I was going to ignore her bullcrap, even though the part about Rae was making me feel a little guilty. “Whatever.” I rolled my eyes.
“No, not whatever. Dude, you’re either something or nothing. You choose.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” I looked over my shoulder, wondering how much lead time I’d lost in avoiding the cops.
“Yeah it does. You’re either somebody who gets involved and stands up for what’s right and protects those who need it, or you’re nobody - some jerk who lets everyone else do the work and then walks away after he’s done taking. Stop looking like you’re going to run again. You’re staying with us for just a little while longer, at least until we figure out what the hell is going on. If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for Rae.”
“You don’t need me!” I yelled, angry at how guilty Jasmine was making me feel. She’s right. I am a nobody. “She’s the one who has people after her.” The fact that I was leaving when that was the case was pretty shitty. I knew that. But I couldn’t help but feel she was better off without me. I just wished that it didn’t hurt so damn bad to even think it in my head.
“Yeah, that’s the thing, right? Like, why are they after her and not you?”
I shrugged. “Why would they be?”
“Duh! Hello! McFly! Are you even in there? Did your yanging of my dad kill off too many brain cells? Are you retarded now?”
“Shut up.” I didn’t know whether to be insulted or to just laugh. She was totally worked up, spit flying out of her mouth when she talked.
“No, I’m not going to shut up, until you listen to reason. What she can do, yeah, it’s powerful. But what you can do? Fuck me. That shit is nasty. Do you have any idea what someone could do if they controlled you?”