Defiance

Chapter 7

I find myself watching Michelle all over again. After all she was the only one who could make this all make sense, to make it plausible. Me burning my test results instead of the photographs which proved me to be the killer, me lying unconscious in the parking lot of the school for hours and no one even paying a glance, the diary which I never wrote which my mom was reading. It was all just too much.

I watch her as she stares at the wall in front of her. She had made an ambiguous collage, filled with notes, sketches diagrams, photographs and theories everything was related to my death and even my life. She stares at it with a blank expression for a long stretch of time. Then slowly frustration started kicking into her, first caressing her and then gripping her as restlessness slowly takes over. She jumps of off her bed and paces up and down the room. She continues this for a while and then when her frustration and restlessness passed her threshold she suddenly seizes a glass of off her desk and hurls it towards the wall. The glass crashes against the wall and shatters into a million little pieces which fall to the ground. My head turns back to her as she sits down at the edge of her bed and rakes her fingers through her hair while murmuring the phrase "what am I missing" over and over again in a desperate and pleading voice.

She had so many walls, so many layers coated around her. She was so closed up; getting to know her would be harder then breaking enigma. But I think that the reason she did all of this, sneaking around in all of these life threatening projects was to give her an adrenaline rush and keep her from reliving her dark and dreary past and now with the dead end that that was my case memories of her past went colliding in her brain, menacing her, teasing her, torturing her.

She falls back on the bed and inhales a shaky breath. She was trying desperately to think of my case, of how I died and why and how. She grips her head and pulls at her head. "Come on" she whispers over and over again. A deep empathy overcomes me accompanied by a feeling of helplessness. If she hadn't been working on my twisted case she would've been able to move towards something which actually lead her somewhere and helped her, instead of torment her.

"Go to sleep" I whisper, I realize that this was the first time I'd spoken since I'd died. I was very well aware that she couldn't hear me. I was surprised at my own self for formulating and comprehending the words.

I startle as slowly and slowly her body starts to relax, the tension in her muscles fade and her breathing becomes less erratic.

"Calm down, go to sleep" I whisper again, incredulous at ability to calm her down.

She further drifts into a trance like state. Her breathing evens, causing her chest to heave up and down at a slow and steady pace; calmness overcomes her face and overtakes all her senses. In another 60 seconds she was fast asleep.

I walk up to her and place what looks like a hand on top of her head and slowly caress it. Physically I don't leave an impression, but I hear her gasp and roll over at my touch. And then slowly and slowly an invisible force grasps me and I feel myself being pulled inside of her. Unknowingly I dissolve into her; my spiritual being (if that's what you want to call it) was slowly but surely dissolving into her subconscious. I didn't have any means to stop it, there was this inexplicable force that was pulling me further and further into her, into the depths of her mind and soul I was powerless against it.

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A white light blinds my vision after which images begin to morph themselves into existence. It took a few minutes for clarity to come over me. I was in a room. Its walls were blaring with a blinding white color. I turn around and am confronted by a screen; the screen was a more polished replica of Michelle's wall. It consisted of all her information in an organized manner, contrary to the haphazard way it was in on the wall. My eye drifts down and spot a leather recliner and I see the crown of a head which was covered in brown hair, Michelle's hair. I slowly walk up to the leather chair and stand next to it, peering down over at Michelle. Her eyes were grave and were concentrated on the wall in front of her, her brain simultaneously deciphering and decoding the information. But she was missing many pieces.

"Sit down and don't bother me" she says suddenly almost causing me to jump out of my skin.

She could see me?

Out of the blue another leather recliner appears next to hers. I hesitantly sit down. While her eyes stare ahead trying to put together the pieces of the puzzle I ponder over how she could possibly see me. Then again the human subconscious wasn't a creation of physical elements; it was unlikely it'd obey the laws of the materialistic world. I was creation of my consciousness; it only seemed plausible that I'd be able merge in with her subconsciousness.

"There was an external influence on you that's for sure" she suddenly remarks, snapping out of her trance. I turn to look at her and without thinking the words just come out.

"I was a killer"

She turns to look at me, her expression a mixture or shock, curiosity and incredulousness.

"what?" she asks again

"It's true" I say, looking at her. "I was a serial murderer. I murdered innocent people, and I couldn't stop. I just kept doing it. It just kept happening. I didn't even know I was doing it; it's just something that carried on. I couldn't stop, and when I realized how this would affect my mother, especially her campaign, I ended my life. It seemed like the only solution."

Her face darkens as she in took this new news. Her brows furrow in thought and her forehead creases.

"Why did you burn your SAT scores?" she asks

"I never did" I reply. Her face further contorts in confusion.

"I burnt pictures of me murdering people, I didn't want anyone to find out" I add on. She further stares at me; I bet this was the last thing that she was expecting.

"There's something fishy here, there was abnormal chemical activity in your blood. I don't think you're a killer Michael, that's the last thing you could ever be" she finishes in a somber tone, a tone which she used when she knew what she was talking about and that it was true. For a moment I wanted to believe her as well, but I knew it wasn't the truth.

"Michelle" I say, not having the slightest clue of how to convince her "trust me, I know what I'm talking about. I killed them, all of those innocent people. I couldn't bear the weight of the truth anymore, the brunt of what I had done. So I ran. I escaped. I found the easiest way to get out of all of this. It was the only way to ensure that everything ended up okay."

She shakes her head in disagreement, as if none of my words had had any impact on her.

"There's something darker here Michael" she only whispers. "something out of your control, I just can't find any leads, but you've given me a heading now. I know where to look. I just have to figure out who, why and how. And trust me I'll do that. But for the time being I need you to understand, you were not a serial killer, you never were"

Suddenly everything just falls apart. The ceiling comes crashing down on us and the white walls around us crumble. The screen falls down and breaks into tiny little pieces. I suddenly feel my head jerk forwards as a piece of the ceiling hits it and everything goes black.

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Michelle jerks awake. She was wearing a tank top and pajamas. Her entire upper body was coated with sweat and she pant and gasps for air. She makes her fingers through her hair, trying to intake the dream or nightmare, whatever you want to call it. She swings her legs to the side of the bed and stands up despite her wobbly legs and trudges to the bathroom. I watch as she splashes water on her face and stares at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was flushed red, compliments of the adrenaline rush. She grabs the edge of the counter and I could feel her thoughts moving at the speed of light. She suddenly jerks her head back at the mirror and looks at her reflection. This time she had a determined look on her face, a look that said she'd take on whatever came next, that she wouldn't deter in the slightest, that she knew what she was going into and that she'd plunge through regardless.

"Let's get this shit sorted" she says in an intimidating yet resilient voice. I knew she meant business.