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Just Once - “C”
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I
Just once did “C” want to see “B” again. It was as simple as that. Without “B”, “C” was nothing. No more than a somewhat intelligent wimp. A freak. “A fuckin’ loser”, as “B” had told him, many, many times. But, to “C”, those cruel words were his anchor, his safe place, and now, he was without it.
It happened… How long ago now, a couple days, three, four? “C” wasn’t entirely certain, he’d been wandering around the streets on his own for a while now. It was difficult for sure, stumbling about without food or a place to rest, and it certainly didn’t help that he had to constantly avoid contact with people- what would they do if they saw such a young boy slumming it out on the streets. They’d surely take him into some orphanage… he might end up back at Wammy’s House- but that’s not what concerned him most, that’s not what made “C” so cautious, it was the fact that if he did wind up being taken somewhere… there would be no way he could find “B”, and “C” really, really wasn’t going to have that.
The pair had fled Wammy’s House only a few months ago, “B” had told “C” of his plans to leave and “C” had begged him to go along with him. At the time, “C” wasn’t necessarily attached to “B”, he wanted to leave out of fear, nothing to do with the other boy at that time. You see, Wammy’s House is one of the many orphanages established by the esteemed inventor Quillish Wammy, the orphanage was designed to produce the most intelligent minds, preparing them to become world class detectives who could rival even “L”. “C” was one of those children, alongside “A” and “B”, however, unlike the other two, “C” was undermined and mostly left to his own devices, “C” was aware that it was down to his own shortcomings, his own genius paled in comparison to those two after all.
But, when “A” had given up. When he took his bed sheets and created a noose. When he’d strung it up in the middle of the night, right next to the resting “B” and “C”. When he’d stuck his neck through and chosen death. That was when the Wammy’s House soon became a hellish place. “A” had been in line to succeed “L”, he’d been doing fantastically, however the sheer pressure was far too much for a child like “A”, and he’d been unable to cope with the stress. It pushed him to end himself right there and then. The image of his corpse, swaying from the ceiling was burned into “C”’s mind that night, and it was that event that spiralled “C” into agreeing to flee with “B”.
“B” was cruel to “C” during those months they’d spent together. He made sure the “timid”, “cowardly” rat knew his place, he served “B”, his job was to provide him “entertainment”… “service”, if you will. Now, “C” was not a complete pushover, he wasn’t merely some fool who’d do as you told him with enough shouting, and he certainly wasn’t going to do such vile acts, no way.
How quickly that façade of confidence shattered.
It only took a week before “B” was able to get whatever he wanted so long as he asked. “C” would do anything so long as he didn’t put him through that again. So, overtime, “C” became used to their relationship, “B” would provide food, and show him how to survive, and “C” would provide “service” to his master.
Of course, as “C” grew more and more reliant on “B”, when the moment did arrive that they were separated… well “C” had no means to deal with it. He couldn’t cope, so here we are, following the poor bastard as he prays to some deity to show him the way back to his “benefactor”. Luck shines through sometimes, I suppose.
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II
A week after their separation (of course, “C” wasn’t entirely sure of that, but to him, it felt like a week), and on the verge of starvation, a miracle happened. Unfortunately for “C”, it wasn’t the miracle he wanted.
An American family on vacation had found him. Your stereotypical wealthy assholes, the kind of pompous pricks who think they’re superior to everyone, because they have a posh home and fancy cars. The same kind of people who made “C” so disgusted that he felt like the Earth would be a better place if they just disappeared. But, at the same time, as most rich people do, they had one thing on their minds- money, how to get more of it, and “C” just happened to be the ticket.
Desperate and willing to overlook his prejudice towards them, he took a chance, approaching the man with an offer… “C” played him like a fiddle, it was simple really. “C” may have been reserved and cowardly back in Wammy’s House, but after the “tough love” “B” had put him through… “C” had learned something, that something would save his life.
Find your target.
Lure them in with something they want.
Explain how you know exactly how to get this.
Profit.
That was it, as simple as that. “C” may not have looked like the most reliable person, certainly not, but his words carried a sense of confidence, he spoke like a classic salesman, his words dripping with promise and guarantee. The man had been hooked quickly and was desperate to give “C” the chance, after all, it was a small cost with a potentially massive gain! He’d be a fool to turn it down, right? So, “C” was flown out to live with them and prove himself.
Over the next couple weeks, “C” did just that, he went above and beyond to prove himself to be a stock market genius, easily predicting and analysing stocks. He grew that American family’s wealth tenfold. What did he get in return? The better question would be what didn’t he get? He was treated like a messiah by that family- as if he was the second coming of Christ. It was a joke, and he knew how easily he could wrap everyone around his finger with just the basic knowledge of human greed. No… that’s not right, that’s not what he wants… he wants “B”... “B”... “B”... where was “B”? His love? His sole confidant!
Even as “C” was showered with praise and gratitude by that pig and his wife, “B” was always in the back of his mind, always occupying his thoughts in some way…
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III
Like all good things, this charade of a happy family had to come to an end eventually. “C” pretended to be part of their bullshit for two years, TWO FUCKING YEARS of not seeing “B”. How in FUCK had this happened? “C” had only gone with them because he planned to help himself to a grand amount of money and slip away, to return to his quest to find his darling. “C” was sick of them, he hated their guts, their stupid fucking smiles, their picture perfect faces- crafted through expensive plastic surgery, of course. He needed “B”, and at this point, he was willing to do anything to get back to searching.
The American family “C” had been staying with were always going on holiday to some place or the other. They hardly paid attention to “C” outside of the money he had been raking in, after all, why should they? It’s not like he was unhappy, right? They had provided him with quite literally whatever he could possibly want, and besides, if he wanted to get something personally, he had his own balance of money to get it with, an amount large enough to remind you that the difference between the “1%” and everyone else is a fucking cruel joke. But, alas, the one thing money can’t buy, was the only thing “C” really wanted. Without that one thing, “C”’s mind continued to break.
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IV
On the night of August 17th, “C” had finally prepared everything. It had cost a lot of money, but that didn’t matter, he didn’t care, he needed to get back to searching for “B” and he wasn’t about to leave and let these fucking pigs keep on living. As the family bundled into a fancy limousine and waved “goodbye” to their “dear, dear” son… God, he hated the sheer idea that he was affiliated with those rich fucks. “C” smiled.
The vehicle drove off, and not even five minutes later, a second limousine appeared. The real one. The one that had been hired to collect them. “C” stepped forward to greet the driver, smiling.
“You must be here to pick up my…” “C” paused, bile forming in his throat, he quickly regained his composure, “p-parents…”
The man in the limousine chuckled at the boy and nodded, “Yeah, do you happen to know where they are, son?”
“C” raised his left arm, the driver’s face contorted with shock and horror.
BANG!
Blood splattered against the windshield, the driver slumped in his seat, more crimson liquid pouring down his temple. “C” opened the car door and dragged the corpse out, tossing it into a ditch he’d dug out in the nearby woods of the home.
“C” thought to himself… “It’s quite brilliant, isn’t it? How these rich assholes have such perfect places to get away with murder. These fuckfaces were so focused with their ‘superiority’ to ‘poor’ folk that they pick some brilliant mansion tucked away in some remote area, there’s no one around for miles, no one could ever hear that gun shot, and I’ll be long gone before anyone comes looking”
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V
In the other limousine, the American couple sat blissfully unaware of the horror they were soon to befold. The car took a sudden right turn, driving into a desolated car breakdown shop that had been forgotten to time.
“Where the hell are you taking us, the airport isn’t in this direction!” shouted the husband.
The driver spun around and spat in the man’s face, brandishing a pistol, “You listen here, you filthy American, you’re going to do as I say, or I’ll blow you and your wife’s non-existent brains all over the floor!” - the kidnappers voice was heavily accented.
The doors were pulled open and a couple burly men grabbed hold of the couple, roughly dragging them outside, binding and gagging them before tossing them into the basement of the broken down car shop.
As the pair laid in the dark, their stifled moans and cries going unheard and ignored, they finally heard a voice after what felt like hours.
“...mother, father.”
Light. They could see again. They blinked violently trying to adjust to it. Staring up at “C”. They tried to speak, but their voices were muffled beneath the gags.
“...shhh… don’t try to speak… I’m here for you now.”
“C”’s voice was dripping with sarcasm and cruelty… his eyes glinted with a madness barely restrained, he toyed with a knife in his hand.
“I just… want to have some fun…”
He stepped forward. The couple shook in place, tears streaming down their faces.
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VI
Hours later, the pair laid there, cut, beaten, torn and spat on, but alive. Barely.
“C” sat across from them, talking to the other thugs who had brought them there. One of the men had said that “C” was going too far, and that he ought to just finish them off so they can get their payment and leave.
That man’s face was now lying on the floor in front of them. His corpse was left in the corner, but “C” hadn’t been the one to kill him. The other two, who were recognised to be one of the men who had pulled them out of the limousine and the driver himself, had cut the man’s face off, they’d been the ones to desecrate and torture him as if he was just some easily dismissable piece of trash. Why? Well all “C” had to do was dangle a promise of more money, all he had to do was say… “the cut between you lot would be a whole lot higher if a… fool were to disappear”.
The torture went on for a few more days, the wife had succumbed to her wounds before the husband. “C” cut up and reorganised her corpse in front of him, he even went as far as to force the man to eat her pinky finger because it was entertaining to watch.
The thugs were patient, like dogs, they accepted the wait gleefully, clearly salivating at the money that would soon be theirs.
After the husband died as well, “C” was finished. He asked the thugs to wait inside for a moment while he collected the money and left. Not long later, the whole building was nothing but a pile of debris. The bomb had killed the thugs instantly, leaving nothing but the charred corpses of the American couple, and the three thugs in the basement.
“C” wasn’t finished, for his plan to be perfect, he needed a final touch. He went to the boot of the limousine and dragged out a corpse of a teen boy, somewhere around his age. He’d found the kid on the street a week before he put his plan into action, the corpse would serve as the perfect scapegoat. He poured gasoline all over the corpses and lit them.
Leaving the building a beautiful red against the sky.
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VII
“C”’s plan had worked flawlessly. A week later, the building had been found, the disappearance of “C” and the American couple was “solved”. The police had explained it as so: A group of kidnappers looking to make a load of money from the wealthy family had ambushed and kidnapped them, pretending to be the limousine driver the family had hired to prepare to leave for their holiday. They kept the family hostage in an old desolate car repair shop, but unfortunately due to the old nature of the building a furious fire that occurred killed everyone. “C” was pronounced dead.
As we know, he wasn’t dead, not even close, “C” was spectacular, maybe not mentally, but physically for sure. Using the vast wealth he had, and the criminal network he had built, he was able to smuggle himself wherever he pleased. Fleeing to a foreign country and getting plastic surgery to completely change his appearance.
The doctor and the smugglers involved were the only people to know that “C” was alive, and now that he’d changed his face, he knew that it would be better to simply get rid of them. So just like how he disposed of anyone else once they outgrew their usefulness to him, they disappeared.
He returned to America, with his new appearance and his passion to find “B” reignited, stronger than ever. He drifted from state to state, he worked under the logic that, “B” wouldn’t be in England due to how much he despised Wammy’s House, so that left America. It was shoddy logic, but due to “C”’s delusions and broken mind, he didn’t question it, clinging to it with a hope that he’d reunite with his love.
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VIII
Years passed. The teen monster grew, he didn’t stop killing, targeting the elderly with little to no family who lived in remote places, that way it’d be ages before anyone noticed- if they ever did- and “C” would be long gone by then, evidence wiped and all… soon enough he was twenty-one and it finally happened. The thing he’d been dreaming of for years, it was so close, he’d finally found the clue he needed.
Through sheer luck, “C” had heard of a complex crossword puzzle that had been sent to the Los Angeles Police Department. The police had been unable to solve it and got rid of it, later Believe Bridesmaid had been found dead. Viciously cut up and murdered.
This was it. This was what “C” had been waiting for…
He rushed to get to LA, it didn’t help that he still had to lay low, it took far too long. Three weeks, “C” was nearly there, he was so close… so close to seeing “B” again… he… he…
He got there.
“B” was arrested. “B” had been caught.
“C”’s mind completely broke. He couldn’t stand it. Some BITCH had caught him. What was her name…? Naomi Misora. “C” repeated it. Naomi Misora. A Japanese woman, he assumed. Some filthy bitch. Some filthy waste of space. She’d taken his one and only opportunity to see “B” from him. His wish to be reunited had been snatched from him at the worst possible moment.
He would kill her.
“C”’s vision was blurred, he felt sick with rage and anger. He would kill that BITCH! She had to die. She had to suffer. There was no WAY he was going to let her get away with that.
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IX
“C”’s a joke.
“C”’s a failure.
“C”’s the true waste of space.
He was the one who failed… if only he’d found “B” faster, if only he’d been quicker to get there… he could’ve helped… he could’ve gotten rid of this sick witch who dared get in “B”’s way.
“C” collapsed to the floor, and balled his eyes out, hugging his knees to himself. He stayed like that for hours.
Eventually, when the pain in his stomach grew too much to bear, he got up. Picked up his knife and went to the nearest police station.
…Misora… Misora… Misora… What were the odds that he’d find her? Fuckin’ next to nothing, he thought. That’s fine. “C” didn’t care anymore, “C” didn’t give a shit. He wanted bloodshed, he wanted revenge, he no longer cared whose blood, as long as he was the one making them bleed.
“C” hung around an alley near the station, waiting, watching… a couple patrolmen passed by…
“No… no… I need something better”
Eventually a young asian woman- no older than 23 passed by, she wasn’t the woman from the papers. She wasn’t Naomi Misora. But, “C” couldn’t stop himself, he lunged at the lady, stabbing her right in the chest, violently tearing into her flesh, pulling the blade out and plunging it back in. His mind was filled with pure hate and rage, he slashed and tore over and over again, the woman’s blood splattered all over the alley wall and over his body.
The woman howled in pain, her face contorted in agony and fear, the whole world seemed to slow down, screams from outside the alley echoed in “C”’s mind. Passerbys. One of the more resilient- a man in his thirties- managed to pull out his phone and call for help, his voice panicked and rushed, “C” heard him list off the address and he froze. He dropped the knife, the corpse of the lady crashing down to the ground with the knife buried in her throat.
“C” turned and ran, charging through the alley.
Sirens.
The sirens were loud, to “C” they sounded like laughter, like the universe was mocking him for his pathetic existence. They drowned out everything from his ears. Tears streamed down “C”’s face, he had killed that woman, but it meant nothing, she wasn’t Misora, he didn’t care if he’d stolen the life of some young lady… he was still hyperfixated on the fact that he’d just blown his chance to get back at Misora. Thanks to his sheer rage he’d just given up on any opportunity of biding his time and avenging his darling, his love, his EVERYTHING.
“C” burst out the other side of the alley, a large gas station in front of him, police squad cars swerved around, blocking any means of escape. It didn’t matter, “C” already had his end planned out.
The gas station was so close, he ran, sweat mixing with the blood of the lady he’d just killed, he grabbed a hose from the closest pump and doused himself in petrol, tons of it, it filled his nostrils and made it hard for him to breathe. Not like that mattered, soon enough he wasn’t going to be breathing at all.
“C” reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter, a police man shouted something and raised his gun, “C” flicked the lighter on.
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X
The explosion killed “C” instantly. His body burnt to a crisp. That was it. Now I'd like to say that “C” spent his final moments in horrific agony, or even that the sick bastard had decided to repent or at least somewhat realise the sheer cruelty of his actions. But, the man did not, the monster died smiling gleefully, his mind filled with the thoughts of what could have been- his mind filled with what could have potentially happened, how he might have lived happily with “B”. For him, that was enough.
He had wanted to see “B” just once more, had that been so much to ask? Just once.
THE END