Someone once said there is no satisfaction in murder, but they were wrong. I am sorry to say I know this to be true from personal experience but not sad to say I did it.
It took a long time to get to a place where I could say these words out loud and not feel pangs of guilt and disgust, but I am here….now.
Georgie deserved to die.
That day in the mountains was the end of one journey and the start of another. It wasn’t something I had planned but it wasn’t unexpected.
People had been telling me since high school that Georgie would end up dead, but none of them had thought I would have a thing to do with it.
They had warned me to stay away. They had told me he would take everything from me but I didn’t listen.
I was wrong.
Georgie took all that was good in my life and I helped him.
That day on the mountain things changed.
I didn’t know why Georgie did what he did to the guy tied to the tree and I didn’t want any part of it.
Georgie wasn’t used to me saying no to him. When I refused to take the knife I knew there would be consequences.
He might let me get off of the mountain, he might not do anything for a while, but sooner or later his anger would boil over.
For a moment we stood there starting at each other, like two prizefighters sizing each other up we shared a moment of silence.
Georgie was an animal who could hurt you badly without thinking about it. I was someone who had participated in acts of violence, but I couldn’t escape the sick feelings that accompanied it.
I couldn’t escape the feeling of dread that was wracking my body. I was scared and I didn’t know what to do.
Georgie wasn’t going to ignore the man tied to the tree and he wasn’t going to walk away. He wasn’t about to let me walk away either.
I didn’t know whether the guy tied to the tree would survive his wounds or if his friends would come looking for him.
My options were limited. I could walk back to the car and leave the guy tied to the tree to his own devices. I couldn’t talk about what I didn’t see, now could I.
I couldn’t do that because I knew what was coming for him. I wasn’t going to be considered an accomplice to murder.
And then it happened.
Georgie hit me in the head, knocking me backwards over a stump. I grunted as I hit the stump and fell in the dirt. A boot slammed into my ribs.
I wished this was a movie or a dream. Nightmares ended with you waking up panting and short of breath, but at least you had escaped the monster. I was not so lucky.
I wasn’t going to wake up and no one was going to help me. It was nightfall and the moon had not yet risen so it was dark. I scrambled to my feet and tried to run only to be tripped.
I fell down again and again I was rewarded with another boot in my rib cage. I stood up and Georgie hit me hard, but this time I fell into him. Together we fell in the darkness.
I landed on top of him and began punching him, screaming and shouting I pummeled him. I don’t know how long I hit him for, but I know it took a while for me to realize that it had been unnecessary. When we fell down the back of his head had landed on a rock.
All I had done was make him more dead.
When I stood up I was shivering. Georgie was dead, Georgie was dead, Georgie was dead…
Georgie had been like family to me.
In some sick, twisted and perverse sense of the word he had been like my older brother, the guy hadn’t always been bad, he hadn’t always been this way, had he.
I couldn’t tell, I wasn’t sure.
I wasn’t even really sure that he was dead, maybe he was just hurt, maybe he was just unconscious, knocked out like one of those cartoons we used to watch.
Maybe it was like when Bugs Bunny stuck his finger in Elmer Fudd’s gun and he would sit up, his face covered in black dirt.
But I knew it wouldn’t happen this time.
I don’t know how long I lay there on top of Georgie, panting, shivering and in shock.
My shirt and hands were sticky with blood, Georgie’s blood. I stood up and walked over to the tree. The man was still tied to it, but he wasn’t moving, dried blood marked his body and when I grabbed his head in my hands it felt cold and limp. I shook him and demanded he answer me.
His silence mocked me and I couldn’t deal with it.
I hit him in the mouth. I felt his head snap against my fist and then the tree and I swear I heard him groan.
“Hey, hey asshole, answer me, say something,” I screamed, but no words came out of my mouth and so I grabbed him and shook him again. But again his silence mocked me.
“Georgie, you better stop playing,” I shouted and then I kicked him over and over, slapped his face and grabbed his throat and began squeezing it until I realized it wasn’t Georgie.
Georgie was dead, his body lay a few feet away.
I started to laugh and shake, giant gales of laughter wracked my body.
There in the dark I stood the world’s newest murderer. Life hadn’t been great, but now it was distinctly worse.
Georgie’s death was an accident, it was self-defense. He had been trying to kill me, but the other man, how could I explain that.