June (Major TW for graphic description of assault, suicide, blood, death, extreme torture. Again very graphic. Does include blood.)
"My mother didn't do anything wrong either," the first boy pulled out a knife and crouched down. "I'm sorry I took a while to get back. I had to grab some things that weren't in the supply room. Let me show you." He pulled out bandages, medical wire for sutures, and medical tools.
"I bet you didn't know my dad was a doctor too." A sinister grin came across his face. "You know, before my mom died, she cut her wrists. My dad found her, though. Sutured her right back up." He moved the knife to my arm. I tried to move away, but he held my arm and moved it again, pressing it against my neck.
"You don't have to do this," I started crying, "I'm sorry about your loss, but it wasn't my mom. She didn't kill him."
"Still denying it," he whispered, inches from my face, "that's right. Cry. Feel what my mother felt." I struggled with him he brought the knife to my wrist.
All I could feel was the blood flowing out.
I kicked, but both were holding me down now.
I screamed in pain until my throat was raw.
I fought until I couldn't anymore.
"Okay. Now we wait. My mom laid there for 30 minutes before my dad found her. So that's what you will do."
I sobbed, leaving streaks on my shirt. I was going to die. I was going to die without knowing what I was supposed to find. My vision sometimes went blurry, and I felt lightheaded. I had probably lost a lot of blood, but I couldn't look down to see. I just left my arms at my side and looked up at the stars as I sat and waited.
----
"Ding ding. Times up! Now," he picked up a tool and the wire while the other held me down, "you get some well-needed sutures."
I screamed again.
"No, no, please don't. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Tears continued to come in waves as I again struggled to break free.
"If you don't shut up, I'll kill you. Right here and now." I felt the prick and then lost consciousness.
----
I woke up to my arms wrapped in bandages. The sky had become lighter and they were still there waiting for me.
"Hey," the second boy tapped the boss, "he's up."
"God, you finally woke up! I guess we lost a little too much blood there. Don't worry. That doesn't matter." I looked at my arms. Blood was pooled around my wrist, soaking into my jeans.
"Let me go, please. I'll tell everybody I tried to kill myself. They'll believe me, so just let me go," I begged again.
"Seems you forgot that my mother is dead. So you have to die too." The boss punched me again.
"Now, you're going to stand up and stand on the stool." My heart stopped. I really was about to die, and in the same way June Sekin did.
"I can't," I whispered.
"You can't? I said fucking get up." He grabbed my wrist and pulled me up. I screamed out in pain and fell into the boss's chest.
"What the fuck is wrong with you," he said as he pushed me back onto the ground, "you, grab him."
The second boy stood me up, taking me to the stool. Just then, the third boy returned. The second boy let go of me, causing me to collapse onto the ground.
"Where have you been? Fucking ratting us out?"
"No, no. I wouldn't do that. I had to walk to the beach and back. I thought it would be best if I threw it into the ocean. Also, I had to do it without nobody seeing it. I got here a while ago but was worried I would interrupt. So I sat out there."
The boss smirked and grabbed a pipe.
"I see. Then if you didn't rat us out, you should be fine doing a couple of hits. We did all the dirty work while you were gone. Take it."
The third boy looked at me. His eyes seemed to be saying "sorry." I knew it wasn't his fault. He was only trying to live, so I nodded to let him know I would be okay.
"Hurry up. It's almost 7:30. People will be coming around soon."
The boy grabbed the pipe and weakly hit me.
"That's not how you do it, you damn idiot," the boss said, grabbing it from his hands, "this is how you do it." I felt the pipe connect with my side, knocking the wind out of me. As I struggled to breathe, he hit me again in the back. The pain was unbearable as I gasped and cried what tears I had left. The boss handed the pipe back to the boy. It seemed like he was crying too, but he continued to hit me nonstop as the other two yelled, encouraging him to keep going. He wouldn't stop, even as I cried in pain after every hit.
"Shit. Stop, stop, stop. It's 7:35. We have to go. Now."
I was relieved for a moment. I was sure someone who find me.
"Pick him up," ordered the boss once again. At this point, I was limp, on the verge of losing consciousness again. All I felt was the rope around my neck tightening as the stool moved from under my feet.
But I didn't fight it.
I didn't want to live anymore.
I realized that my life wasn't valuable; people only saw me and my mom as killers. Nobody would listen, no matter how hard I tried so I stopped. I realized what I wanted was to die. At least when you're dead then there is nobody to judge you, nobody to hate you. I wouldn't have to think and I wouldn't have to cry.
So I chose to die.
------
Hue
After June left, I sat and waited. I didn't follow him as he had told me, and I was terrified of what he would do. I texted him nonstop once it hit the three-hour mark of his being gone.
I saw him read the message. He sent a text, but it was quickly unsent before I could get a good look at what he had said.
"Mom, he read them. He said something, but it was unsent. I think something wrong." Calling the police, she argued with them for help for over an hour while I continued to text him. Slamming down her phone, she grabbed her keys and ran to her car.
"If they don't care over the phone, let's see if they care in person." I'd never seen my mom so angry. I thought she was going to crash on the way to the station. When we arrived, we met with ignorance again. After another round of arguing, Mom sat down, saying she wouldn't leave until they listened.
And so she did.
For another 45 minutes.
I was still texting June the entire time. At some point, the messages stopped delivering. I frantically called.
"The number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service." I heard the automated message at the end of the line.
"His phone disconnected."
The police officer looked more concerned this time but reluctantly searched the cell towers for a trace of his phone.
"Last pinged at Point Beach. Are you happy now?"
"Are you now going to help us look?" My mother was frustrated once again but did stick around to argue when they gave her a clear sign that they wouldn't help. She grabbed my hand, and we raced to the beach. Splitting up, we both began to search the beach and surrounding area.
6:00
We searched for hours, but there was still no sign of June. After meeting up again, we sat silently.
"We should go back. You need to go to school."
"What? Why is school important right now? June is missing. I won't waste my time sitting in a room while I could be looking." I was astonished that my mom proposed we stop searching. After all the fighting, now she wanted me to give up?
"Hue. Listen," she turned to me, "go to school, alright? I'm going to speak with your dad. Maybe they will listen to him. I wouldn't be surprised if they listened to him right away. He is quite a figure."
I dropped my head. She was right. They probably didn't care because it was just some lady and a kid. If my dad came, then maybe they would listen. If they didn't, then everyone would know. He is the top doctor in the city; they couldn't say no, but it angered me. Our voices weren't being listened to and we were useless.
I asked myself again
Why do bad things happen to good people?