Graveyard Blues [Brallon]

Epilogue

[hi last chapter what a ride]

"Nobody noticed Taylor was missing until she didn't show up for filming the next day. Her room was searched and the police found her diced body in the motel room, bits and pieces sliced and packed into Tupperware containers. The media was all over it.

"I watched all the videos of my work. I had opened a window and smeared her blood over the glass in the shape of handprints, buried the tarp a few miles outside of town, and wrapped her severed head in Saran Wrap to store in the refrigerator — I guess this is a confession, then. Anyways, they didn't show any shots of that, but they told where they found it. It's too gruesome for normal people to handle.

"They had a suspect in custody almost immediately, the guy from the floor below whose prints I lifted from the doorknob and placed on the knife and refrigerator handle. He didn't seem to have an alibi.

"All the articles called it a crime of jealousy. It was sheer luck that the man I framed had loved her so much. They never even mentioned me once.

"In the next week, the movie set was shut down. Josh and Tyler returned back home, as did Pete and everybody else. Jenna stayed for an extra day to chat with the police and tell them everything she'd talked about with Taylor. They never picked up any leads from that, and nobody heard from Pete or Jenna again.

"Brendon believed the news reports and everything the articles spit out. He didn't suspect anything to be wrong until a month later, he realizes I'd quit mentioning killing people. Of course the animal graves kept multiplying because I couldn't stop after Taylor, but that was supposed to be usual.

"He and Hayley contacted the police and anonymously tip them in my direction, and it's all over from there. I know it was them, because nobody else knew about me. I don't blame them.

"Their suspicions began with the family begging to reclaim the corpse of their dead pet. I'd refused to return it for months and months, and then they finally provided a warrant to dig it up. Lord knows how they got that.

"I had to be locked inside to watch as they uncovered bird skeletons, then street cats, then wild dogs, and every small animal in between, until they found their precious rabbit. They counted well over four hundred total animals buried in my backyard, and they hadn't located the majority of them. In a report filed by the officers holding me down while everything was overturned in the dirt, they were disturbed. They'd asked me how I felt, and I told them I didn't care, and that it was no use restraining me because I wasn't going to do anything. They both described me as empty and emotionless, straight out from a horror flick.

"From there, they connected me to Taylor's murder. When interrogated, Brendon told them everything. From the incidents in middle school to expressing how badly I wanted to kick the killing up a notch, he spilled all of it. He didn't hold back anything.

"My lawyer claimed insanity in court, and just to make sure they were able to prove how much of a danger I was to society, they conducted countless tests and concluded fairly quickly that I was not fit to be around anybody. Everybody was utterly shocked that I had survived for so long and never have been caught, but I am a fantastic actor.

"After all of the accounts of first degree murder were placed over my head, Hayley and Brendon both disappeared. The media decimated everything they'd ever had after I went public. There was nowhere they could hide but the middle of nowhere. They never told me where they were going. In my mind, they don't even exist anymore. Good riddance.

"Josh and Tyler pulled their books from the shelves to add in an apologetic authors note after relentless backlash from fans everywhere, releasing countless statements that they had no idea I was an emotionless and manipulative monster. Oddly enough, their sales increased.

"Brendon released a book a few months ago under his name instead of finding a pseudonym. They actually took off the straight jacket recently too, and they let me read it and turn the pages with my own two hands. He wrote me out just as I am, and I admire that. People call him brave and courageous, but I know the truth. He's too dependent on me, he's not strong enough to pull himself through this alone. If he was, why did he leave the public eye so quickly? It doesn't make sense.

"I recently earned the privilege to watch movies again too. The screen is fairly small and a little sad, but the audio is sharp and clear. They'll show me films Taylor starred in, just to see if they can get any sort of reaction from me, but they'll never get one. I don't have to act anymore. I do find myself smiling every now and then, because I can still feel her blood running down my arms, and it's beautiful."

She doesn't say a word, but she keeps writing and frowning as she transfers everything I said on to paper. Her eyes are heavy and drained, rimmed with concealer to hide the dark circles, but she perseveres.

"You got all of that, Doc? Do I need to repeat anything for you? Got any questions?"

"Actually, I do," she leans forward and clasps her hands over her lap, and she makes direct eye contact, "over these last months, you told me and everyone else the same exact story, and nothing more. Why don't you tell me something about your family, or where you grew up?"

"It was nothing out of the ordinary. I was loved and cared for, but everyone liked to pretend I wasn't a psychopath. That's all. Nothing traumatic, nothing violent, no mistreatment. They just wanted me to be normal."

"...And Brendon was your only friend, through elementary, junior high, and high school, correct?"

"I protected Brendon — they picked on him, and they all hated him. I wasn't friends with anyone else because the other kids caught on to me. They knew something was wrong, but nobody else had any sort of idea, and they were all afraid of me."

She bites the inside of her cheek and frowns, sympathetic. "Why were they afraid of you? You must've done something."

"I stabbed someone in the trachea with a pencil. I removed it from my criminal record a decade ago."

"Alright, that would do it." She scribbles for another minute, glancing up at me every now and then as if I was holding a knife and was about to strike at any time.

While she reads over her paper, I speak up. "Anything else? Can I get back to my book now? You guys always interrupt at the best parts. Why can't we ever have a lunch date?"

"It's difficult to restrain someone at the cafeteria tables. You're nice and secure here, which is where we'll stay."

"Oh, well I wouldn't kill you. I've gotten it out of my system for the most part, so we're okay for another couple weeks. Try for a lunch date next time, and we can talk longer."

She stares at her shoes and takes another moment to think her life over. "You did very bad things, Dallon. Do you know that?"

Her eyes light up as I nod. She thinks she's breaking new ground, but I've known killing people is wrong for a very long time. "I do know it was bad. I'm not stupid, and I'm not a child so you don't have to talk to me like I am one. But I do have a question for you, if you don't mind, Doctor. I've been thinking about it for a while now, so I expect an answer."

"Please, ask away. I'd be happy to help in any way I possibly can." She grins and scoots closer to me. She reaches out and squeezes my hand in a reaffirming manner, which I find to be extremely uncomfortable, but I don't say that.

Her gaze drifts to anywhere but my eyes when I make eye contact with her. She's uncomfortable, like everyone else. "If it was so bad, why'd it feel so good?"

She doesn't answer.

Nobody does.