Put Me Back Together(91)

“You killed Tommy for me, huh?” I said, backing toward the line of trees that separated the buildings.

“You know I did,” Brandon answered. I could see the creases lining his forehead as he scowled at me. This was no twelve-year-old boy. He was a full-grown man now. A full-grown monster. But even monsters had their weaknesses.

“Pretty romantic,” I said. “What was it like sitting in that cell, knowing the girl you loved enough to kill for didn’t love you back? I mean, I denied even knowing you. I testified that I’d never seen you before in my life. That’s gotta sting.”

Brandon shook his head. “You think I’ve been pining for you all these years, just waiting to get out so we could be together again? Don’t make me laugh. Any feelings I had ran out long ago, Katie Kat. I spent those years planning out this moment. I’ve been dreaming about watching you die ever since I made the mistake of letting you go that day. I never make the same mistake twice.”

We reached the trees and I backed under them. Brandon’s face fell into shadow as he continued to advance on me, his eyes little pinpoints of light in the dark.

“Kind of seems like a waste of time, though, doesn’t it?” I said, tripping over one of the cement borders that circled the trees, but righting myself before he could reach me. “All those years of your life spent locked away, all for nothing.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t call it nothing,” Brandon said. “Killing can be its own reward.”

As the horror of that statement sank in, he began to advance more quickly and I struggled to keep ahead of him. There was a large field coming up behind me and I was counting on his not wanting to attack me out in the open. It seemed like a major murderer no-no, but Brandon didn’t really seem like the type to follow the rules.

I wished I had my bat. Risking a glance behind, I looked around wildly for anything I could use as a weapon. The wind was really picking up now, tearing petals off the crocuses and sending stray plastic bags and twigs flying around our heads. I began to hope for a lightning strike.

“Killing me will make as little sense as killing Tommy,” I said quickly as we stepped into the field. “Nobody will understand why you did it. They’ll all still think you’re the Kindergarten Killer. Is that what you want to be known for, murder with no motive? They’ll call you deranged. They’ll put you in the psych ward again.”

“You’re right. I guess I’ll have to leave a note explaining things,” Brandon said. He lunged forward all of a sudden and I shrieked as he grabbed my arm. “Should I carve it into your arm? Or maybe your stomach—bigger canvas.”

Suddenly the sky opened up and the rain came down in a sheet, drenching us both in seconds. At the same moment Brandon leaped toward me and I found myself on my back on the slick grass as thunder rolled. My glasses were thrown off and though I felt around on the ground, I couldn’t find them. It was almost better this way. Now he was nothing but a dark figure looming over me, the figure from my painting, the villain of my story brandishing his knife.

This is how Tommy died, I thought.

“Are you looking forward to being cut open?” Brandon taunted. He pressed a knee into my sternum, securing me in place as he trailed the tip of his knife down my neck. His other hand pressed me into the ground at the shoulder, heavy as a brick. “It seems fitting, doesn’t it? Since it was your idea.”

I tried to scratch his face, but it was just inches out of reach. Reaching helplessly, I began to realize that this was it. This was the moment. This was my last chance. I was going to die here in the mud. Unless…unless…unless…

A wave of unbelievable sorrow threatened to pull me down as I thought of Lucas finding me here, just as I’d found Tommy. I thought of my mother getting another horrifying phone call. I thought of my sister lost without her twin. I thought of all the paintings I would never paint, the things I would never do, the life I would never lead with Lucas.


Be strong. Be clever. Make him pay. Think of something. Think!

Brandon cut open my jacket, the knife blade slashing easily through the material. I felt the rain pattering against my bare upper chest.

“Now, where to start…” he muttered.

“I loved you once,” I blurted out, gripping the hand that held the knife with both of my own, trying to stop its progress. “The little girl you met in the woods is still inside me, just like that boy is still inside you. I loved you and you killed Tommy and it ruined everything!”

“I killed him for you!” Brandon yelled, his mouth inches from my face. “I killed him to make you happy. I killed him to make you love me!”

He jammed the knife into the grass right beside my head.

“You’re the one who changed your mind,” Brandon went on, gripping my face with both hands. “You’re the one who ruined it. I did my part!”

There was a terrible crack as a tree branch buckled in the gale and slammed to the ground to my right. When I swung my eyes back to Brandon he had the knife in his hand again, and though I couldn’t see his expression I knew it was filled with hate.

Last chance.

“But you killed the wrong boy!” I screamed. I watched the hand that held the knife falter, his grip on my shoulder shifting. “It was Ricky I hated, Ricky I complained about. But you went and killed Tommy. I loved Tommy. He was sweet and he was only five years old and he didn’t deserve to die. I told you. I told you it was the wrong boy but you went ahead and killed him anyway!”