In the Middle of the Bed (A Saira Collings Story)

March 1, 2005 (Justin's Story)

Almost nine months since Isabel died is when I get my next scar. But I know that I completely deserved this one.

The mark across my cheek that Justin gave me has scarred. Soon, my body will heal it, until it's only noticeable in bright light and if you know where to look for it. But right now, it's an ugly black thing that mars my face.

I'm fifteen now. And am following my enemy through the woods.

Justin has avoided my eye since Isabel died. No one has asked about my scar. It angers me. And only one thing will cure me of my anger, though I know exactly what it will cost me.

Justin stops at a cabin hidden by the trees. I wait until he goes in. Then, I sneak around back, the stolen pistol tucked in my jeans rubbing against my back.

I climb in through the open window, dropping silently into a small kitchen. Justin is in the living room, and I have a clear view of him. His back is to me.

Shoot him. Kill him. Get it over with, a voice in my head whispers. No, I growl back. I want to see his eyes when he dies. He needs to know that I will be his end.

Dark thoughts for a girl, some would say. Dark thoughts for anyone, really. But I wasn't just a normal girl, or anyone.

I turn, and turn on the stove burners. Then, I walk into the living room, purposely stepping on squeaky wood boards.

Justin whirls around, fear on his face. The cigarette he'd been smoking drops from his hand, landing on the floorboard with a slight spark and thump.

Then, his eyes narrow. "What are you doing here, Collings? Didn't I tell you to buzz off months ago?"

I smile, and pull the gun from my bacl. I turn it, and watch with glee as Justin's eyes widen in fear.

"You know the old phrase 'an eye for an eye'? It means that whatever crime you commit, the same punishment will be put upon you. It used to be a law the Babylonians had. Such a loss that they abolished that law. It worked quite effectively," I say.

"You wouldn't," Justin growls. But his voice has a note of worry in it, and his eyes stay glued to the gun.

I laugh, a harsh sound that doesn't belong in my throat.

"I'm the girl who murdered her entire family by setting her house on fire. Why wouldn't I kill you, Justin? Just give me one reason why I shouldn't pull this trigger."

I stare Justin in the eye as he swallows, hard. His eyes flick between the gun and me, as if deciding which would be more dangerous.

"People will search for me," he says desperately as I place my finger on the trigger.

I laugh again, and say,"There won't even be a missing poster."

Then, I point the trigger at Justin, and fire. The silencer blocks the sound of the gunshot, but not the sound of Justin's body hitting the floor.

I walk over to him as red spreads out like a blooming flower on his chest. I stradle his torso, and crouch down to look him in the face.

"You killed Isabel, and who knows how many others. You serve Satan. You deserve to be in Hell," I whisper quietly.

"So-do-you," he chokes out as blood gathers in his throat. I smile a little devillish smile, and say'"I was destined for Hell the moment I saw a girl get shot right in front of me."

With that I stand up, and walk over to the fire place. I take the box of matches out of my pocket, as well as a large bottle of gasoline.

I strike one match, and put it in the fireplace. Then, I open the bottle of gasoline, and start walking out the door as I tip it behind me.

Outside, I look back at the cabin. Without looking down, I strike a match. I watch it as it flies through the air to hit the snaky trail of gasoline.

The trail bursts into flame, racing towards the house. I turn around as it reaches the doorway, and start walking.

Justin's body was never found. The forest fire that occurred was ruled natural. I was never caught.

Justin's scar runs from my right ribs to my lower spine. It hurt a bit more than the others.

The funny thing about Justin's death was that what I said was true:

There wasn't a single poster.