“...It ain’t the Money and it sure as hell ain’t just for the fame...”- Gerard Way

“Dear Meryl. I’ll love you through the ends of the Earth, but you probably should’ve left me sooner because what I am is a monster. You’ve deserved to know the truth since we met, but I’m past the point of getting to tell it safely; my last deed in life should be an honest one. I don’t think that I’m pouting, but what more does a locked door have to say? A violent end to indulgence is fitting, considering my life. Truth be told, I might already be dead; I’m always dreaming, and I can see dead memories threading my fate to a coarse correction. I was never holy, and now I’m not sure that Hell awaits me. But I’ll finally kill the only thing that deserves my wrath; this Carnal Beast who I let pull me back from you.

The Beast is something I thought I had put to rest years ago, when we got married. But then the burglar came...and then you left. You were right to leave, because I murdered him. I thought I’d indulge the Beast just one more time; now that you’re gone, I’m left with only It.

There’s an abandoned shop outside of Baton Rouge called ‘Lenny’s Pawnage’ and a little crawfish dock ten miles east of that; forward this letter to the FBI through an attorney and be sure they know that gators are lurking. They’ll find more threads to follow when the forensics team arrives; I don’t want you to think the deeds are all I was, even if I could recall everyone. I can’t even tell what the point is in recounting everything that’s happened.

One thing I do know, it’s that you’re gonna blame yourself. For what? I don’t know. You aren’t going to change anything by hating yourself for having been with me. I would never have done it to you, and especially not our child.

I don’t have time to feel sorry over the rest of them, it’s too late to matter. I do regret how you had to learn this. I should’ve faced you.”

Malcolm placed the red pen down and folded his hands, deciding no signature was necessary. It was dimly lit inside the dining room and after sliding the chair back, he delicately carried the paper outside the front door; Malcolm placed it inside the mailbox and walked back inside.

He passed back through the dining room and entered the kitchen, with its own granite tops, and an island in front of the sink and stoves. Malcolm crossed over and set the four knobs to their highest setting, without igniting flames; they hissed raw gas into the air.

There can’t be anything else keeping me from departing the world; I’ve confessed to whom mattered and I’ve rechained my Beast.

Malcolm shut his eyes and waited for the gas to fill his house. His stomach abruptly grumbled, and he opened the refrigerator. It had three shelves, the bottom shelf contained two gallons of milk and half of a two-liter soda. The top two contained condiments, eggs, cooking oil and butter. There was a twenty-four pack of coconut water, along with a plate of leftover Salisbury steak covered in tinfoil.

Malcolm was tempted by the steak but was curious at the freezer. When he opened it, he saw two Tupperware containers; he slowly grabbed the top one. He knew what it was when he saw the coating inside yet proceeded to open it anyway. It was when the container’s lid was beside it, that Malcolm felt his own heart palpitate while staring down. The walls and base were covered in red; the organ was mid-drip from its valves with the icicles still glistening across its surface. When he grabbed the heart, it was still frozen internally and faint in the light.

…Fuck me…I did it again.

He dropped the heart into the container and grabbed the next one. Like the first, the surprise for Malcolm came after he removed the lid and set it beside the first. He raised his eyebrow again, looking at a smoother surface than an intelligent brain should be. It was still pink, and it sat in an ice pool of cortical fluids that took the shape of the container. Calmly, Malcolm capped both lids and set them inside the freezer.

Well…now I could use a drink.

Malcolm clasped his hands like he was already handcuffed, he began pacing the kitchen with the gas stench multiplying.

Now listen here…You. Are not. A cannibal. A vast majority of the Animal Kingdom has figured this shit out, including lower shark breeds! Polar Bears only have no choice anymore, thanks to Humans. Those New Guineans created a degenerative prion through the consumption of Human Brains. Did I already eat someone without remembering? Is that why my mind is diving into the gutter?

The toxic fumes began to reverberate inside of Malcolm’s nostrils. And as he lost his train of thought, the whistles of the stove blended. He touched the dial to the front right stove and turned it to ignition. He held it for three long seconds before the stove caught a flame. Sparks emanated from the flames. Before Malcolm could close his eyes, he was blinded by the flash of unfiltered heat; the flash of pain made it impossible to scream.

Instead, he woke and drowned. Malcolm choked on the steady stream of water falling from the showerhead. His cheek was smudged into the cloudy glass door. Recoiling from the water, hit his head against the wall beside him. A strand of black hair was caught in the back of his throat and after coughing on the water, Malcolm munched his lips to feel. He began to watch the swirl of the drain; it resembled the vortex his life had been.

Well, goddammit. I suppose I could bleed myself to death for Red Cross…give back AS I die?

I threw up the bleach, regenerated my veins from the razor, and I can’t even blow up. I doubt I’ll drown myself either. Death doesn’t want me…so why the fuck does it deal with me?

Malcolm dried his hair while stepping out of the bathroom. He found prearranged clothing dressed out for him on his bed; typical behavior, but he had no memory of doing it. However, there was still light shining through the window blinds. Malcolm walked to the dresser and the military clock said that it was still six twenty-seven in the evening.

How long was I out for?

After he was fully dressed, Malcolm crossed to his bedside table where his phone was connected to a wall outlet. After clicking the home button his screen flashed on, displaying the time and date; it was the first of October, Twenty Eighteen.

I’ve been out for two days.

There was a ping in his notifications. He clicked on it and was taken to his text messages. A message from Javier, “Alright. We’ll be there at seven.”

Malcolm sifted through the chat history, where Javier led into already being with Kenneth Johnson and Harvey Daniels, he and Malcolm had been chatting since eleven this morning. Malcolm’s eyes bulged as they returned to the first message he read.

Wait a minute, they’re coming here? …OH FUCK!

Malcolm dropped the phone and ran out the door. After descending the stairs, he twirled around the wall banister and ran to the kitchen. When he opened the freezer, the organs were not where he left them. Malcolm shut the freezer and leaned his back against the cold steel, quickly noting that there were no dishes in the sink.

I couldn’t have eaten them, right?

The house didn’t have a foul stench to it, in fact, there was a brand-new air freshener plugged into a wall socket by the kitchen counter. He lamented not buying candles during his blackout, since they are perfect for both creating aromas and setting tones.

Malcolm about-faced and walked over to the door to exit the house. After rushing to the mailbox, it saw that there was nothing inside. Malcolm hung his mouth while he tried to recall which day it was.

The Mailmen shouldn’t have been here yet.

Malcolm closed it as he heard a truck honk; he turned to see Javier’s Brown Toyota pass him, parking behind Malcolm’s Pale Sierra on the driveway.

Javier emerged with a wave, “What’s going on, Bro!” He was wearing a camo tank top; his jeans were plain blue, and his boots were black. Javier was flanked by Harvey Daniels from the passenger side, and Kenneth Johnson from the back. Harvey wore an orange hoodie over a white shirt with a Cat on the English Throne; he kept his head shaved and wore bright sneakers. Then there was Kenneth ‘Fuckeroo Jack’ Johnson who insisted on rocking a short mullet in Twenty-Eighteen. The only thing keeping him from looking completely ridiculous to Malcolm was his black leather jacket and pants, along with black boots and a plain white shirt which reminded Malcolm of an Outsiders character.

Harvey flanked Javier and pulled Malcolm in for a close shake. “It’s been a minute man; you’ve been holding up?”

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Malcolm looked at his empty house, “Well, I’m not dead. Probably couldn’t complain either way.”

Harvey looked concerned, “Well…Sandra lets me out often, we’re all good to jam it over here when you need it.”

Javier spoke in solidarity. “Seriously dude, even as the company C.O., don’t be a stranger.”

“Thanks.” Malcolm smirked at them.

Kenneth had accidentally tripped while exiting Javier’s truck. “Can a motherfucker get a hand?”

Harvey walked to him, “You’re not broken; get the hell up!”

Javier blocked the view. “You gonna let us in my dude?”

“Yea, my bad.” Malcolm led Javier to the doorway, with Harvey and Kenneth behind. The last one shut the door and they were led down the hallway and into the living room.

They stood facing the side of a dark red couch. Adjacent to that was a couch of the same color against the wall. The plasma screen TV was placed across the first couch, over the brick fireplace. The room’s archway behind the living room entered the kitchen.

Kenneth made himself right at home, plopping over the armrest and onto the couch; Harvey immediately slapped Kenneth’s knee. Malcolm finally noticed the canned, six pack of beers Kenneth held on to his chest; it was down to four. “What? Are you pregaming?” Malcolm asked.

“Sponken like a man who’s never tailgated…”

“Dude.” Malcolm guffawed. “You cannot be that drunk already.”

“I told this negro to wait before wait for you to give the greenlight.” Harvey interrupted.

“You picked the wrong dumbass to speak in metaphors with.” Javier was leaning against the archway.

“I’m still lucid, ya know…” Kenneth said.

“Just saying.” Javier shrugged. “Hey, cool if I turn on the TV?”

“Yea, sure.” Malcolm answered. “The remote should be over there.”

“Thanks bro.” Javier crossed to the fireplace.

“I’m not letting you blackout already, so share that.” Malcolm pointed at Kenneth’s beers.

He obeyed and snapped off a can, he passed it to Harvey who passed it to Malcolm; Kenneth then offered one to Harvey. “I’ll wait.” he answered.

“Suit yourself.” Kenneth shrugged. “Javi?” He held out the can to Javier who faced the TV and was channel surfing.

“I’ll be right there.”

Kenneth shrugged and chugged his new can.

“Cool it, Fucko.” Malcolm ordered.

“Liquor Before Beer, In the Clear!” Kenneth remarked.

The time was passing ten P.M. after Malcolm blinked. He had taken a chair out of the kitchen and placed it next to the couches. When he came to, he was gnawing on pizza crust while blankly staring at two dark liquor bottles next to the pizza boxes; one was already empty with the second just opened.

“…Hold on. Did you say something Mal?” the voice of Meryl spoke. Malcolm turned his head and saw Kenneth leaning past Harvey. Malcolm had the room’s attention, and the movie was rolling credits.

“Don’t call me that.” Malcolm answered.

“But you don’t want us to call you ‘Spacer.” Kenneth boasted. “What do I say?”

“Only my family can call me that.” Malcolm answered blankly. “Call me whatever else.”

“Certainly…Captain Dickhead.” Kenny gave a sarcastic salute.

Malcolm stared unblinking. “This dickhead is providing you shelter tonight.”

“Ah.” Kenneth said. “We aren’t going home?”

Malcolm cocked his head. “You think I’m letting you fuckers loose after getting plastered?”

“I thought I was gonna be designated driver.” Harvey spoke with his coconut water in hand.

“No one’s driving my truck but me.” Javier slurred.

“Well thanks Captain!” Kenneth looked back to Malcolm.

Malcolm shrugged. “It’s whatever. Hand me another slice.”

Kenneth did so. “Hey, can I smoke in here?”

“What do you think I’m about to say?” Malcolm sternly asked.

“Sure, Kenny! Pass me one.”

“Fuck no I’m not.”

“What do you want us to do with this?” Harvey pointed to the two boxes on the coffee table.

“Leave them, it’ll be our breakfast in the morning.” Malcolm spoke with a mouthful of crust.

Kenneth leaned forward, spanking a cigarette out his pack with a smirk toward Malcolm.

“Outside.” Malcolm ordered.

Kenneth sarcastically responded with the cigarette in his mouth. “Very well then. This back door unlocked?”

“Knob works. As you will.”

Kenneth stood and noticed Javier staring from the adjacent couch, keeping his chin down. Kenneth grinned connivingly, “Look who’s not clean!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Javier laughed. “The nit-fit sucks ass!”

“That’s why I don’t smoke.” Malcolm boasted; he looked at Javier. “Rosie isn’t here bro; no one’s a snitch.”

Kenneth was waving the pack when Javier relented. “Let me piss right quick. I’ll meet you out back.” He spoke.

“Splendid!” Kenneth boasted and circled behind the couch with a stumble while Javier entered the hallway for the bathroom.

Malcolm leaned over the coffee table to close the pizza boxes, afterward, he started to pour himself a fresh shot of liquor. Harvey leaned back on the couch, sipping his water with a foot rested over his knee. “I...never actually congratulated you on finally earning the company.”

Malcolm paused with his fingers around the shot glass. “I’m surprised you’re saying that.”

“Well, you know I’m not one to make a spectacle of shit.” Harvey answered. “No one’s here, so it feels more genuine.”

“That I get.” Malcolm looked at Harvey. “Everyone expected you to take over November; even I thought command would give me a different unit.”

“Shit just happens sometimes.” Harvey shrugged. “Besides, I never signed up for vanity; I’m doing my part, whatever my rank is.”

Malcolm nodded before downing his shot. He took the liquor burn as a new wave of dizziness hit him.

“Are you fixing to pass out man?” Harvey laughed.

Malcolm slowly nodded, staring into space as the burn faded. Javier exited the bathroom and passed the backyard door before Malcolm collected his thoughts. “Do you think somebody could do his part…and not make the cut anyway?”

Harvey seemed to dwell in thought while squinting. “What are you getting at?”

Malcolm poured another shot into his glass. “Meryl…”

Harvey sighed in sympathy. “Look man…most people struggle with the baggage of a military family; that isn’t something that’s your fault. You gave that woman your best self and it wasn’t all for nothing; you’ve got a son together!”

Malcolm drummed the rim of the coffee table. “…It didn’t help her see through me.”

Harvey leaned in. “Hey, all that means is she wasn’t cut for you. And I mean…”

Malcolm winced. “What?”

“She’s trying to be a doctor, right?”

“Yes. And?”

“Well…” Harvey awkwardly sipped his water, “Her whole career involves getting people un-injured. Us? Our job parameters intrinsically involve people winding up in her care. Like, take Sandra. We met on each other’s tours…”

“Yea, she’s a Navy brat.” Malcolm remembered.

Harvey shrugged. “In my experience, we have a different degree of understanding on most stuff. Even with at least one of us home with the kids, there’s never a tension regarding what we’ve seen or what we’ve done.”

Malcolm gripped the shot glass, nearly cracking it. “…But what happens when she sees past me anyway?”

Harvey cupped his water on his lap while leaning in. “Did something else happen?”

Malcolm gulped the shot and the burn with it. “…I thought doing anything for my wife and son was what I’m meant for…Instead it drove her away.”

Harvey looked sorrowful. “What happened to you was self-defense, dude. You had no way of knowing what that motherfucker was capable of.”

“…No…He didn’t know whose house he was trying to rob.”

“And the home invasion reversed onto him!” Harvey tried to cheer.

“…It stopped being an invasion quicker than it started…” Malcolm droned. “The prick tried to escape me, and I thought for a moment, ‘Maybe I shouldn’t take him off the census…’ Then that fucking Beast that’s inside me forced me to think what could happen if I lost control again…Everything I’ve done right by Connor would be moot if that were to happen in front of him…So I entered the garage with my mind made up. There was no one waiting on or coming for that motherfucker; as he died, he gave me that...signature sigh, like he didn’t know why this was happening…He was meant to be a token for my taming, which is a finer meaning in life than all his bottom-feeding prospects. Now I don’t have a family to protect…” Malcolm finally glanced at Harvey.

His friend looked at him with his back pressed firmly into the couch and his eyes stuck with terror. Malcolm sucked his lips once he saw that Harvey was clenching the bottled water tighter than if it were from a Holy Lake.