I Never Meant for Him to Die

Okay, here’s the thing: I never meant for him to die. Promise. It’s not my fault things got so out of control, all right? I swear.

You don’t believe me.

That’s okay.

I guess, if I were in your position, I wouldn’t believe me, either. I basically sound like I killed someone, but I didn’t! I would never… I would never…

Of course I’m being serious! My life is on the line here, too. I know what you think I did. You think these hands -- the ones you have chained to this chair -- are responsible for taking someone’s life. I wish I could point to my head and show you the real killer — my thoughts.

I’ve made a lot of stupid decisions, I’m not ashamed to admit it. I’m human, so, despite the severity of this situation or whatever, please try your best not to judge me. Trust me, I will be hard enough on myself for Johnny’s death for the rest of my life. Plus, I’ll have to carry this label over my head, guilty or not, one way or the other. I almost wish it were true, because I don’t even know how to explain what happened.

Johnny is… was… my man for, what, seven years? Eight? I kind of forget. It’s been so long. We were high school sweethearts. I really… I thought we could make it, but hey. Till death do we part, right?

No, I’m not being insensitive to his death! Are you kidding me? I’m trying to rationalize it! I can’t figure out how he can be there one minute and a flash of green light later he’s just gone!

You’re right.

I’m getting ahead of myself.

I’m sorry.

So sorry that you mistake my grief for guilt simply because you don’t believe me. Don’t worry, I get it. I’ve told you, I don’t believe me, either.

But you’re right, again. You're giving me the opportunity to speak my truth, so to do that I must start at the beginning.

With that stupid package showing up on our doorstep.

We’re staying in the student housing apartments, as we’re both in college. Feel free to check the records.

We’d gone out to lunch after morning class and came home together to share our one afternoon and night off a week. He made shrimp pasta. I made a raspberry chocolate cake. We had sex before we ate and caught up on America’s Got Talent. Pretty much a typical Wednesday.

When the show was over, I begrudgingly accepted that it was my turn to take out the trash.

“I’d rather do the dishes than take out the trash,” I’d complained.

“It’s called balance, love,” Johnny had rebutted. “We’ve all got to do chores we don’t like. I hate doing the dishes. Don’t mind taking out the trash.”

While his logic may not have made sense to me, it’s not a motive for murder.

“I don’t see the problem then,” I’d carried on. “If you don’t mind the trash, and I don’t mind the dishes, why can’t we compromise?”

“Ah, because what growth would either of us endure if we took away our privilege to work through the things we didn't like doing?”

I shook my head. “I can’t even with you.”

Stupid fight, yes, especially now in retrospect, but I felt like he was controlling sometimes. Always his way or the highway type of attitude.

Oh, God.

Now I’m going to think every little relationship qualm I had is going to make this sound even worse for me.

We fought over stupid shit sometimes, I don’t know what to tell you. Eight years together is not always peaches and daisies. This last year was the first year we’d actually lived together and it was a lot to take in.

But in the end, even though we had a stupid spat about it, I took out the freaking trash.

On my way back into the apartment, this little box — no bigger than one for a ring — was wrapped in this brown paper sitting right on my front doorstep. I looked around, but no one was in the halls. Didn’t mean they couldn’t be quick, but I didn’t hear any doors or anything, and the dumpster chute was only a few doors down from us. I picked it up and gave it a once over, but no name or note or anything had me a little confused. I knew some of my friends thought I should ask Johnny to marry me, but I couldn’t see them randomly dropping off a ring to propose with on my front door.

Stranger things have happened, though, I guess.

Regardless, I went back inside and opened the little box with Johnny. He agreed with it feeling a little strange, even more so when we pulled out the tiny papers inside.

It was basically a little treasure hunt out here in San Diego. There were about twenty papers folded up together, and all made a puzzle that looked like a scavenger hunt throughout the city.

No, I don’t know where that box is now. It disappeared with the green light, but I’m not allowed to get ahead of myself, remember?

“What is this?” Johnny had asked as we tried to piece all the papers together.

I shared my theory, but it didn’t help us solve anything.

“I don’t know who gave this to us or why,” I said.

“Or what any of it leads to,” said Johnny.

“It seems like a silly thing to worry over, though, doesn’t it?”

“Unless somehow one of us ends up dead.”

We both laughed that off. For whatever it was worth, it didn’t seem so strange. It might have even been a little fun. And, with the idea in the back of my mind that my friends were trying to set up a proposal, I wondered if that had something to do with this.

And I wondered if maybe I was the one getting proposed to.

Plus, I don’t know — it’s hard to explain this pull I had toward doing this. I think maybe Johnny felt the same, but there was just this… feeling, this thing inside of me that said everything would be okay. To just jump in feet first without worrying.

Biggest mistake of my life, I know. Trust me, I wish I could go back and fix this.

“We should try to figure it out,” I’d suggested instead.

Johnny looked out the window. “Do you think we should go now? It’s getting kind of dark.”

I chose to follow the feeling that said we would be safe. “Unless you want to wait until next Wednesday. You know how busy the weekend gets for us.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Then, sure. Let’s do it.”

I’ve known Johnny for a while. Like, practically grown up with the guy. I knew when he was faking something, and I knew he wasn’t as open to doing this as me. I, however, was still wrapped up in thoughts of a proposal, and I figured he was acting aloof on purpose.

So we went.

The first place was a coffee shop. The next clue was under the toilet lid in the bathroom.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Johnny as I lifted the lid and pulled out the address for our next stop.

“At least it’s a clean bathroom,” I said, still convinced he was playing some game.

Next up, we came to an alleyway with a key behind a dumpster. At that point, I’d started to realize I was probably wrong about this whole proposal thing, especially when we got to the warehouse next.

Yes, the warehouse where he died.

No, I don’t need you to show me the pictures again.

I understand you think I deserve to be reminded of what I did.

Maybe, in some ways, I do. I knew we shouldn’t have gone any further, but, I swear, there was just this… magnetic pull that wouldn’t let us go. It was like once we’d started, there was no way out, even if we wanted one.

Yes, I know I sound crazy.

I don’t know why you haven’t strapped me in a straightjacket and hooked me up to a lie detector, but I thought you were letting me tell you what really happened?

Yes, I maintain that there was a green light, and that the box disappeared with it.

Inside the warehouse there were… there were these shadow people. I don’t know how else to explain them and I know it sounds batshit, all right?

I get it.

But they were there, and they shut us in, and there was a flash of this green light. Felt like Avada Kedavra, if you know what I mean. In all senses of the matter, except I don’t think it was witches and wizards.

I think it was demons.

Don’t look at me like that. You know I’m not the only one who believes in that kind of shit. Are you going to make sure some of them are put on my jury?

Anyway, believe it or not, Johnny disappeared after the green light, and the shadow people left with him.

And then they just… left me.

Oh, God.

How do I expect you to believe this?

That I was just left alone in that warehouse, panicked, so desperately wishing this was actually a proposal, all the way until I heard the sirens?

They made the call, don’t you get it? These demons, these creatures, these shadows or whatever they are, they did it! All of it! They timed everything perfectly — I saw the body for the first time when you opened the door and shined the light on it.

I swear to you.

There was another flash right before that happened, and I had just asked him if he was okay. You found out he was dead when I did. I swear to you, I’m sitting here in shock. Please, you have to believe me.

I don’t know what actually happened apart from that.

But I’d like to help you figure it out.