The Untitled Document

Chapter 15 ~ Paradigm

Looking at what had happened today and tomorrow, I could almost believe that there was no point in asking for change. Darren was dead, Silvia hated me, and for all I knew the video had finally been taken down. Still, not everything was bad. I remembered yesterday afternoon, when we had taken a picture together, believing that everything would be alright. It was not alright anymore, but the world didn't have to stay upside down forever. I could turn it the right way around, little by little.

Another thought struck me. If his name was really Brandon, then perhaps... "Did you know Darren?" I asked. He smiled again. "Yes, he was a funny little creature. One of the most difficult cases." He shrugged. "But we always succeed in the end. That's what we're good at." I shook off all the horrible images coming to my head, and tried again. "Brandon, did you know Darren when you were a kid?" He winced. "Yes," he said slowly. "But I've seen the error of my ways now. What we did back then should not be dwelled on. I'm happy that he turned me in. They said I was almost as difficult of a case as him. But they taught me what was right. It was sad when I had to see him again, not as an ally, but as an enemy. It saddens me that even after turning me in to the police, he still ended up choosing the wrong thing."

"You killed him." I stated. "No, I-" "You killed him." I repeated. "And murderers deserve to be punished." I didn't know what I as doing, but both anger and grief were driving me on now. I clenched my fists and stared at him dead in the eyes. He smiled again, that cruel, heartless smile. But I had had enough. If I had to, I would make him see Darren again.

I charged at him; he was too surprised to fight back. With the element of surprise and anger on my side, I easily knocked him down. He weakly tried to fight back, but I had knocked the air out of his lungs. His few weak blows meant nothing to me. I could kill him right here. One easy blow to the neck was all I needed. He tried to get up, and I knew that the odds of me winning were falling. I needed one quick trick. I grabbed pair of pants out of Darren's clothes drawer, and quickly wrapped them around his neck. He clawed at his throat, but he was getting weak from oxygen loss. As soon as he stopped, I let go and started tying him to a chair with makeshift ropes. I could change him back. For Darren. But if that failed, I could always make sure he would see Darren again.

Before he woke up, I had some time to properly grieve over Darren, without anybody disturbing me. I closed his eyelids and folded his hands upon his chest. He looked so peaceful now, not having to endure the burden of being leader. I shed many tears over him, but even in my grief, I refused to give up hope. I would convince Brandon to help us. I would take over our group. I could accept more people into our subgroup, now that we were truly unbearably small. Pain and grief washed over me again, but it didn't throw me off balance this time. I had always enjoyed surfing...

I heard a groan from the corner, and I realized that Brandon was awake again. I quickly wiped my tears, and stalked towards where he was, with no trace of emotion on my face. Brandon looked at me with hatred, but I did not fear him anymore. I was in a position of power now, and he was in no position to threaten me. From his sitting position, I towered over him. He glared at me intensely. "You're stronger than you look." "Thanks," I said. "Maybe it was because you killed my friend." He maintained his composure in a way that pathetically admirable. "Describe Darren." I ordered. "I will do no such thing," he announced.

I kicked him, and he grunted in pain. I looked at him again, my eyes inches away from his own. "Describe him," I said again. "He had yellow eyes and blond hair," he said slowly. "Tanned skin and a sharp nose." He stopped talking again, as if the words he were speaking were painful. I kicked him again, harder. I had obviously hurt him, but his eyes flashed stubbornly. This was going to be a very difficult task.

I pointed to Darren's dead body. "Describe him now," I said. This time, he actually listened. "He looks calm and peaceful. But really pale. He's dead." This time, a shudder seemed to run through him, as if he had just thought of something new. "And why is he like that?" I asked. "He killed himself." "But if you were not there, would that have happened?" "Well... No, it would not have happened." "So you killed him." "No, he killed himself." "But if he would have lived if you were not there, then you caused his death. Not only that, but you chose to cause his death. You killed him." He struggled for a second, but then promptly agreed. "I killed him," he agreed.

"He was your friend." "No, he wasn't." "You cared for him." "No, I did not." I looked at him intensely. "Describe what happened three years ago." His look became unfocused, and he immediately started babbling. "I was in tenth grade. The tests were hard, really hard. I had a friend named-" "Shut up!" I yelled. I was getting increasingly frustrated with him, but I had to stay in control. "Describe Darren back then," I said. He spoke, but seemed to be in pain as he did so. "He was one of the tallest seventh graders back then. Really smart, too. He could probably pass for a high schooler if he wanted to. He was really smart, but not serious at all. He was... interesting." "How did you meet him?" I asked. "I met with him to-" He seemed to choke on his own words for a second, but managed to continue. "To discuss the Resistance. He wanted to talk." I punched him in the face. "He wanted to talk? No, you wanted to. YOU WANTED TO HELP US." "No..." he whispered.

I had the energy for one last question. But if I didn't make it matter, then everything I had tried would fail. "How did you end up helping the police, Brandon?" I asked, careful to pronounce his name exactly the same way Darren did, rolling the R. "I stepped out of the closet. I stepped out because... because..." "You didn't want him to be caught." I supplemented. He nodded, and actually agreed. "I helped him. I used to be part of the Resistance. We... fought for what was we thought was right." I looked at him intently. "We still do," I said quietly.