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PART 1:

I wasn’t bothering anyone. I was just sitting there, alone in my apartment, no lights or sound. But that damn clock, it wouldn’t leave me alone! Tick tock, tick tock. The second hand smugly ticked the moments away as the numbers burned their accusation into my brain. 1 2 3 4 5 6-Pointing, taunting, laughing. “No! No! It’s not my fault!” 7 8 9-“You’re a monster!” “No! It was them! They were evil!” 10 11 12-“MURDERER! MURDERER!” “NO!” Tick tock, tick tock. “Rrrrraaaahhhhh!” I had to get out. I couldn’t take it anymore! The Red was coming. I could see it at the edge of my vision. I could hear the voices in the distance, whispering their command: “Redeemer…Redeemer…” I jumped out of the chair. My fingers ached from where they’d dug into its arms. I walked back to my room, not bothering with the lights. I knew what I was after, and right where it was at. I went to my bed and flipped the mattress onto the floor. There it was, my freshly sharpened Buck knife with the eight inch stainless steel blade, the word REDEEMER scratched from tip to hilt. So pretty… I picked it up. As I stood there, admiring its weight in my hand, it all came back to me…

Jasmine…She was my first. First crush, first love, first redemption. She had it all. Looks, brains, a rich daddy. She was popular; a straight A student, candidate for valedictorian, and on her way to Harvard Med. Everybody loved her. Especially me. Jasmine was a high school queen, but I was the exact opposite. A scrawny loser with bad acne that earned me the nickname “Frog Boy.” The only reason she knew I existed is because she tutored me in biology, a class that, with her help, I managed a high D in. All I was to her was extra credit, but that didn’t stop me from falling in love with her. It was stupid, I know, but I had this crazy idea that if I could just make her see how I felt, that she’d feel the same, and we’d share an undying love, and live happily ever freaking after and blah blah BLAH! It was all crap! I learned that the hard a few weeks before graduation. We were at an empty park near the school, studying for finals. Jasmine wanted a joint break, so we stopped for a minute. I still wonder if anyone knew miss perfect was an undercover pot head. I chose that moment, as she toked away like Cheech and Chong, to tell her how I felt. I tried to find a way to be cool and smooth, but nothing sounded right, so I just blurted it out. “Jasmine, I…love you.” She looked at me for a moment, and then she started laughing. LAUGHING! “I-I’m serious!” I stammered. She stopped laughing and looked at me. Her features softened into a mask of sympathy. “Oh, honey, that’s adorable. But you and I could never be. We’re too different. I’m beautiful and popular. I’m going places. You’re just a loser who can’t pass biology.” “What…” “We’re incompatible sweetie. It’s like that story. I’m the beautiful princess, and you’re the grody frog!” That got her laughing again. That conceited b***h! Loser, huh? Frog?! I was consumed by rage! Everything turned dark red, like blood. The only sound I could hear was an incessant buzzing in the distance, but growing louder.

What happened next I still don’t remember. One minute I was sitting there, watching Jasmine as she mocked and laughed at me. The next, Jasmine was on the ground, and I was straddling her, panting, my hands aching, and Jasmine’s face looked like raw hamburger. I didn’t know what’d happened. I was confused, and more than a little scared. There was so much blood! I couldn’t think. My mind whirled, and the buzzing in my ears didn’t help any. By now it sounded like the roaring winds of a raging storm. I thought I could make out words, but I was too panicked to care. I’d never killed anyone before. Well, at least not people. My neighbor had like a hundred cats. Every couple weeks one would go missing, and I’d learn something new about feline anatomy. Who likes cats anyway? But this wasn’t some self righteous ball of fur. This was a person. One I knew and went to school with. I was so screwed! I had to get rid of the body. I was thinking about how to do that when she started moaning. I felt a surge of relief, but it quickly died with the realization that she’d go to police about this. I was still screwed! I tried to calm myself. I thought, “Maybe she won’t remember what happened.” Then she spoke. “You b*****d! I’m calling the cops! Your life is over geek!” So much for that idea “You thought I’d go out with a loser like you?! You’re pathetic! Don’t worry, though! You’ll get plenty of dates in jail! I hope you like sausage Frog Boy!” Beaten to a pulp and she was still a b***h. I decided something then. It’d be easier to finish her and get rid of the body, than to try to explain the situation to the police. The fact that she still wouldn’t shut up, even between spitting blood and teeth, helped with that decision. I wanted to make it quick and painless, but she just wouldn’t stop! The Red Rage came back, and before I knew what was happening, I’d picked up a large rock and was beating her head the rest of the way in, screaming, “Who’s the frog now b***h?! Who’s the frog now?!”

By the time I finished there wasn’t much left of her head. Most of it was spread across the dirt and rocks. What wasn’t was splattered across my upper body. I thought I’d freak out again, but the feel of her blood on my skin had a calming effect. My pulse slowed, thinking cleared. I could breathe again. I even knew what the buzzing was now. It was voices, whispering one word over and over. Redeemer… Yes, Jasmine was a vile person, but I redeemed her. She was good now. I redeemed her, but I still had to get rid of the b***h. If beating her bloody was a hard pitch to sell, try explaining this. “Uh, yeah officer, she was an evil whore, but I fixed her.” I couldn’t see that working out. Lucky for me, the park was a perfect place commit murder. At 11pm it was completely deserted, and thick trees blocked the view from the outside. The best part, it had a big, deep duck pond in the middle. That’s where Jasmine and I’d go to study, and where the evil b***h took her last breath. It was pretty far from the rest of the park, and surrounded by lots of heavy rocks. The water was so filthy you could barely see six inches into it. It was perfect. I emptied her pockets; to make it look like a robbery, and also because I figured I deserved a little something for all she put me through! She didn’t have much for a spoiled rich girl. Twenty two dollars, half a pack of gum, her bag of pot, and, surprise surprise, a condom. I knew she was a whore! I stuffed all her crap in my backpack. Then I dragged her to the edge of the water. She was heavier than she looked. 115 my a**! I stuffed her pants and jacket full of rocks. I did the same with her backpack, and then I strapped it to her chest. Then I drug her as far into the pond as I could, and said my goodbyes with a kiss and a middle finger. I washed as much blood off me as I could, then got out of the pond. The cool night air felt arctic on my wet skin. I took my shirt off and wrung it out, put it back on, damp but tolerable, and did the same with my pants and boxers. Then I threw on my jacket and backpack and started the trek home. I walked in a daze, hypnotized by what I’d just done. I was freaked out at first. I expected the police to come and get me any second. Or Jasmine’s IRA supporting father to unload some buckshot into my a**. But by the time I got home, my feelings had changed. I felt high, almost euphoric. This was the biggest thing I’d ever done! It was a hundred times better than anything I’d ever experienced! Even better than the time Candy Jenkins gave me head in the school gym for a bottle of my dad’s Wild Turkey!

I didn’t even notice I was home until my front door opened and whatever bimbo my dad brought home from the bar that night walked out, stumbling and giggling. Dad walked out behind her, put his arms around her, gave her floppy tits a squeeze, and whispered something in her ear that made her giggle louder, then sent her on her way. When he saw me he said,” What the hell’s wrong with you?” “Nothing,” I said. “Nothin’? Then what’s all that blood on your shirt?” “A dog got hit by a car. I carried it to a shelter.” “Well aren’t you a regular saint? Get to bed, you got school.” He went inside. “It’s Saturday,” I said. “Get to bed anyway,” he yelled over his shoulder. “Damn smart mouth punk!” I heard him take his bottle of whiskey from the cabinet, his one true love. I headed to my room. I went inside and locked the door behind me. I took off my still-damp clothes, stuffed the bloody shirt into a trash bag, and shoved it underneath my bed. Then I lay down on my bedroom floor. The initial shock, and high, had worn off. Now I was just numb. I laid there with my eyes closed, seeing only Jasmine’s emerald green eyes, until sleep finally took me. That night I kept having the same dream. I was swimming in a sparkling green lake. Then the water would turn blood red, and I’d start to drown. But I wasn’t afraid. I liked it.