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[Author's Note: This story is Darrell's account of the story behind "The Obscure Freedom". If you have not yet read "The Obscure Freedom", I strongly advise you to read that first because Darrell's account reveals a lot of the mystery surrounding Myra's account in "The Obscure Freedom"; certainly you don't want to spoil it for yourself!]
"Men are at times masters of their own fates."-William Shakespeare, "Julius Caesar": Act I, Scene 2
I could have avoided all of this. I could have avoided being in the state of mind and the state of being that I am in right now. If only I hadn't been so selfish, if only I hadn't been so cruel, if only I hadn't been so ignorant, if only I hadn't told that chain of lies, if only I hadn't done what I did, I would have avoided all of this guilt that is crushing me as though it were a boulder. [Darrell, you son of a bitch! This cruelty will come back to you somehow!]
Yet the gullible population of the world believes that I am good, that I am some kind of hero who has served justice. They believe my lies, so now they have become liars as well. If I were still numb, if I were still immune, I could have lived my lies and let the truth die with me without ado., but the reality stabbed me the very moment my lies were officially acknowledged as the truth, stabbed me as though it were the same knife I had wielded. Now the pain has festered me so much that all I want to do is die. Only by my death can justice truly be served, but I must reveal the truth before I can slip away into eternal nonexistence.
It all started when I began admiring Myra from a distance. I saw her every day during lunch hour at school: she and her best friend Garrett sat at the same stone picnic table every day. They made for an odd pair, not only because Garrett was tan and tropical-looking and Myra was pale-skinned and always dressed ostentatiously, but also because Myra was from a wealthy family like mine but Garrett was hardly lower middle-class.
'She deserves someone who can treat her like a queen, taking her on lavish dates among high society,' I remember thinking. It is true that I could afford to coronate any girl, and that truth is part of why I am choosing to die today.
It was another month before I could bring myself to tell my parents about my crush on their good friends' daughter. I figured that it would be in my favor to consult them about Myra since they, along with Myra's parents, could easily set up a date for me and Myra. I remember exactly how that conversation went; after all, it serves as very just punishment to remember the first time I spoke the words that destroyed my mind and my life and at least two other lives.
"Mom, can I talk to you for a few minutes?" I entreated.
"Of course, Darrell." It was rather abnormal that she wasn't busy, and that abnormality is another part of the reason why I am choosing to die today.
"Well, Mom, you see..." The words were hard to say at first, but I should have known that my Mom would invite them out of me.
"Go ahead and tell me; we're not on the world's stage now." That was reassuring to me at the time, but fate was against me, so Shakespeare's wise words "All the world's a stage,\And all the men and women merely players.\They have their exits and their entrances,\And one man in his time plays many parts,\His acts being seven ages." ("As You Like It": Act II, Scene 7) never entered my mind. It never entered my mind until it was too late, and it was too late when I realized I had never considered what my part would be or how it would affect this age which I inhabit.
So I continued telling my Mom what I felt at that time and what I wanted at that time; I was hell-bent on it. "I like Myra. I like her enough to want her to be my girlfriend-"
"Well, I'm glad you're interested in such a nice girl. But you have a lot of competition."
"What? It's not like every guy is lining up for a chance with her!"
"Darrell, that best friend of hers is a mountain between her and all of the other guys. It's only a matter of time before they can't resist falling in love with each other."
"How do you know that?"
"Myra's mother talks about the two of them all the time, sometimes to the point of complaining about how much time Myra and Garrett spend with each other."
"So what? They're not dating yet. That means that I still have time to sweep Myra off her feet. And Garrett has nothing to give her, no way to treat her like the royalty she is. He's just a poor city boy. He can't coronate a girl. And Myra would be better off with someone who is set up to be a prominent citizen like her."
"Okay, Darrell, I can definitely agree with you on that. But what do you want me to do in order to turn the tide in your favor? I don't think that I would be of much help."
"Yeah, you would be. Remember that concert I asked you if I could attend? If you can talk Myra's mother into it, I'll buy the tickets and take Myra."
"Okay, but only if you agree to pay for both tickets."
"Then the deal is on."
The deal worked. I was excited when Mom told me that Myra's parents planned the date as a surprise for Myra; it meant that Myra couldn't refuse. By then, I was deep in my desire for Myra. If only it had hurt me instead of joyed me, because then I could have saved me, Myra, and Garrett from myself.
So Myra and I went to the concert that night. I could tell that Myra loved the music-it was hip-hop and R&B, her favorite-but she didn't dance as wildly and passionately as I had seen her dance with Garrett in front of the speakers at the school dances and pep rallies. But I wanted her to dance for real, and I was hell-bent on receiving as much fun from her as she gave Garrett. I remember what I said to her, and it kills me to think about it. It kills me just to be stuck in this circle of injustice.
"Come on and dance with me for real, Myra; remember, this is a date and you're my girl."
"This is just a date, Darrell! I didn't come here to fall in love; I came here because I was sent here with you to hear this concert."
Upon her cold retort, rage began to boil inside of me. 'She's supposed to be mine; she is here with me, so she should be here for me as well,' I remember thinking. I took such offense to what she said that I wanted her even more.
While we were waiting for my parents after the concert, I decided to let Myra know how much I wanted her, and make it clear to her that she was going to be mine without question. After all, she deserved a reputation with the people among the high society that she and I were born into-or so I thought.
"You might not have come here to fall in love, but you did come here," I said to Myra on that fateful night.
"And only because I had to," bitterly retorted Myra.
"So you're just going to forget about our first date? This doesn't mean anything to you?"
"It means I had to cancel the plans I had made with my best friend because our parents set this up instead."
Myra's parents had not let her refuse this date! How opportune that was for me! I didn't want to actually sound opportunistic, so I approached it with mock consideration. "Well, I'm sorry about that, but-"
"But what?" interrupted Myra. "If you're sorry about screwing up what I wanted, then prove that you're sorry!"
She didn't fall for my act, and what she had said did not allow me to pretend any longer. So I played up the honor of who she was, the honor that I wanted to accentuate in her and myself. "That's just the thing. I'm not sorry that I got to be with you tonight. I feel honored that I'm with my parents' good friends' daughter."
It was a long moment before she spoke, but I knew that she would retort no matter how long it took.
"I don't think you feel honored. Whatever enjoyment I gave you tonight, it wasn't enough for you. I don't believe that you feel honored by my reluctant half-assed dancing to the music that you could tell I like. You think that you deserve more."
She saw through me as though I were a plate-glass window. She knew how I felt even though I hardly even dropped a hint or two. So I knew that I would have to prove that I still wanted her, but I wasn't about to leave myself out of the equation.
"Well, certainly. We both deserve more. What we don't deserve is to forget having a good time."
Once I had said that, Myra gave me an excruciatingly caustic look. How was I to mollify her? There was no way, it seemed, until I got a radical idea...
I placed my hand on her shoulder as I leaned closer to her. Her gold lipstick shimmered in the dim glow of the last moments of sunset; I wanted her so much! But in one painful second's time, she turned her head away from me and jerked violently so that I lost my grip on her shoulder.
"No, Darrell! Now is not the time!" she shouted at me.
With those harsh, vehement, yet well-meant words, I was enraged all over again, this time twice as intensely. I shot her an angry look just as my parents drove up, and it was a wonder that I remained silent in Myra's silence all the way home. It was a wonder that I remained silent and still, because I knew by the way she had rejected me that Myra's heart belonged to Garrett.
Just as I had feared, my Mom asked me about the date. I wanted her to just tacitly assume that the date went well, but it didn't happen that way, and it is part of the reason why I am choosing to die today.
"It was wonderful, Mom," I lied. "You may take it that Myra and I are officially a couple now."
"Well, that is quite a surprise. Pleasant, yes, but certainly a surprise."
I smiled pridefully; Mom had fallen for my lie, the lie that I would only too late figure out was the lie that began this circle of injustice. [Darrell, you son of a bitch! This cruelty will come back to you somehow!]
"I believe that you will be pleased to know that Myra's mom and I reserved a table at the grand opening of the new Italian restaurant next Friday night for both of our families," continued Mom.
Indeed I was pleased, because I would have another chance to win Myra over, to steal her heart by hook or by crook. "I am looking forward to it, Mom."
"Well, I am glad; I figured that you would be easily obliged to go on another date with Myra, as well as receive a golden opportunity to impress her parents. Not that they don't already respect you, but you should still give them a good impression of you."
"I will, Mom. I will make certain that Myra's parents will gladly accept Myra and I being together."
Mom told Myra's parents about Myra's and my couple status before I could say a word on that Friday night. The notion was the hot topic among us, although Myra said nothing of it. I could tell by her stony, malignant glare that she was prepared to erupt into a violent rampage and unleash deadly force on me. But there was something holding her back; what that something was I will probably never know.
Our parents did not seem to pick up on Myra's volatile state; they were so engulfed in gushing about Myra's and my supposed relationship. But still I feared that Myra would reveal the truth to her parents, thus provoking them all to shut me out of their lives. That was the worst possible curse in the world to me at the time, and I couldn't let that happen to me. But how?
The next night, I decided to go see a movie, figuring that it would clear my head at least for a little while. I remember Myra's parents saying that she already had plans when my parents tried to set up a date for me and Myra tonight, so I wasn't expecting Myra to be at the cinema. As for other people, I didn't know what to expect when I was walking down the city streets in the middle of the night so as to get to the cinema, so I took my pocket knife with me just in case.
I bought my movie ticket and entered the cinema lobby; I figured that I would just stand next to the theater hall until it was time for the movie. But I quickly changed my mind when I saw who I had not expected to see: Myra and Garrett were loitering on the other side of the lobby. I made way for the theater, running faster than I ever remembered running and hoping that there was no one else there I knew, no one else to catch me in my lie.
All I could think about from the time I entered the theater until the movie ended was my predicament. 'What if one of my friends is here? What will I do to defend what I told everyone? What if Myra told Garrett the truth; what will I do then?'
When the movie was over, I decided to attempt to catch Myra and Garrett leaving the cinema and follow them down the street behind the cinema, the street that led to Garrett's house. There was nowhere else within walking distance that was still open at that hour of the night. That opportune situation is yet another reason why I am choosing to die today.
Sure enough, I saw Myra and Garrett walking down the street behind the cinema once I got there. So I shouted Myra's name.
Myra turned around, and her expression suddenly turned stony and cold once she saw me. "What do you want?" she impatiently demanded.
Garrett whispered something to Myra, and she whispered in reply.
"Let me talk to you," I ordered Myra.
She approached me, but not with an air of submission. "What do you want?" she demanded again.
So I poured out my anger onto her. "I want to know what the hell you're doing with another guy."
"You know damn well that this other guy is my best friend Garrett. We've been friends since preschool. Now what the hell is your problem?"
At that point I became truly enraged. How dare she kick me while I was already down, down with my own problem-and all when there was a witness, a witness who more than likely knew the truth and was pitted against me! "My problem? I caught my girlfriend hanging out with another guy, yet she asks me what my problem is?!"
"I'm not your girlfriend, Darrell, so don't call me a cheater. I don't want to be your girlfriend, and I don't care what our parents want. You and I are the people at stake," she continued.
'Damn right, I'm at stake!' I thought. So I continued with my defense. "Yes, you and I are at stake. And I, as one at stake, am choosing to go on with you."
"But I, as one at stake, am choosing not to go on with you. Only if both of us were to say yes to each other could we possibly go on together. But that is not the case."
Just then, Garrett approached me and Myra. "Excuse me, Darrell, but Myra and I need to get back to my house so that we'll be back in time for her parents to pick her up," he interrupted.
There was absolutely no way that I was going to let Myra go home with Garrett, even if they really were just going to meet Myra's parents. "Get away from my girl!" I ordered Garrett.
"I'm not your girl, Darrell!" insisted Myra. "Let's go, Garrett."
"I'm not gonna let you go with him, Myra!" I countered.
"Chill out, Darrell!" ordered Myra.
But I was not going to surrender, so I drew my knife.
"Darrell, stop!" demanded Myra, as she tried to take the knife away from me. I admit that she made a very valiant effort, but I still managed to stab Garrett in the side. He fell to the ground and did not move again, all within two seconds' time.
"Garrett!" screamed Myra. Her voice sounded just like Juliet's when she screamed in sorrow upon finding Romeo dead next to her the very moment she awoke from the fake-death drug. But this death was not fake. I knew that Myra loved Garrett with her whole heart, and I could hear in her painful scream her desire for him.
"Who the hell do you think you are to do something like this?!" Myra shouted at me.
I could amswer that easily; I certainly had a reason to do what I had just done. "I'll do whatever it takes to defend you." Yes, defend her from the mediocrity that I believed was the air of a family like Garrett's and a guy like Garrett. Today I am punishing myself for ever having believed that, and for judging Garrett without first finding out who he really was.
"That's bullshit! You just wanted me to bow down to you, have feelings for you, and you didn't want to have to work hard for that," angrily replied Myra.
Once again she had placed her finger directly on the reality of my conscience, or lack thereof. Still I would not give in to her. "But I'm better for you than he ever could be!"
"Do you really think you proved that by what you just did? Do you think that you're good for me if you take away what's important to me?"
I just stared back into Myra's pissed-off and sad expression; what was I to say to what she had just said? I knew she was right, but I wasn't about to acknowledge that. So Myra fired back at me instead.
"You know what? You can just shut up; I don't want to hear any of your insensitive, selfish crap anyway!"
Then there were police sirens wailing in the background; I was almost glad, because with Myra's previous words, I had had enough. My blood boiled with rage within my every vein and artery, and I could no longer stand the fact that Myra did not appreciate me. Now I just wanted Myra to be gone, out of my life; I wanted my life to go back to the way it was before I let Myra in it. So I dropped the knife next to Myra and ran like hell toward the woods, and that was when Myra screamed at me the last words she ever said to me, the words that have constantly resounded in my head and aided in destroying me, the words I won't forget until I die, the words that are a major reason why I am choosing to die today.
"Darrell, you son of a bitch! This cruelty will come back to you somehow!"
And so I kept running; I tried to run away from those words, not knowing then that they would catch up with me at the most opportune time.
Sure enough, the police arrested Myra, and everyone except for Garrett's family assumed that she was the murderer. The trial came speedily as promised to the defendant by the Constitution, and I had to testify. I had never wanted to say anything or even be involved in the trial, but Myra had told Garrett's parents that I was the one who killed Garrett. She had the opportunity to do so because she had called Garrett's parents using her one-call right upon being arrested.
Garrett's parents were going to testify in favor of Myra, but, much to my delight, Myra's parents were siding with me. And I was going to defend myself, meaning that I would be lying after swearing the opposite in the name of God. Lying before God was a trivialty to me at the time because I didn't believe in God at that time and never had despite having attended church with my parents all my life.
So I sat in the courtroom and listened to every word of every testimony as impatience threatened to drive me insane. I was the last one to be called to the stand.
"Darrell, Myra accused you of murdering Garrett. Did she tell the truth?" my lawyer asked me, once I had taken oath.
"No. That is not true," I lied. Just then I saw Garrett's dad shoot a sharply disparaging look at me. I didn't even want to look at Myra, because I knew that her expression would be lethal.
"But were you there at the time the murder took place?" continued my lawyer.
"Yes. I was walking home from the cinema at the same time they were. Garrett and Myra got into a really heated argument, and Myra stabbed Garrett. I saw the whole thing."
"Did you call the police?"
"No; I couldn't. I didn't have my cell phone with me, and there was no payphone in sight. As I was walking home, however, I heard sirens coming from the direction of the scene of the crime."
"Thank you, Darrell. No further questions, Your Honor."
Myra didn't have a lawyer; her parents would not pay for one even though they could afford it. So I left the stand as the judge called recess.
"You did well, Darrell; I'm proud of you," my dad praised me.
I had decided not to think about what I had said on the stand, to put this all behind me, so I just replied casually, "Thanks, Dad."
But once I said that, my lies began running through my head as though they were racing in the Boston Marathon, and for the first time I recalled those last words that Myra had said to me: Darrell, you son of a bitch! This cruelty will come back to you somehow!. Ever since then, nearly every passing moment has been filled with those words.
School the next day was nearly unbearable. The jury was still deliberating over Myra's guilt or innocence, and I figured that the debate would rage on for several more days, considering as how Myra was barely eighteen years old and one of the youngest ever to be tried for murder in our city. Nearly everyone was talking about it, including my then-best friend Francis.
"What do you think is gonna happen to Myra?" Francis asked me at lunch.
"I don't know, and I don't want to think about it," I adamantly replied.
But Francis continued to ask questions. "You're not worried about her?"
"I just want to forget all of it."
"That's not good, Darrell. From what I've heard about what was said at the trial, the jury is probably going to find Myra guilty. Yet I'm almost positive that she's innocent and someone is framing her."
"That's why I want to forget about it. It's all so disturbing." I just wanted it to be over. I wanted all of it to disappear, I wanted everyone who was siding against me to be expelled from my life, I wanted my lies to become the truth so that I could just get on with my life and let those who were already down get kicked since the death that ravaged them couldn't be reversed anyway.
"Well, if it's disturbing you, then you need to pray about it. If you can't handle the feelings, then God can help you if only you ask Him."
I couldn't take it anymore; Francis's mentioning God just disturbed me even more. I wasn't prepared to believe in an omnipotent power that I had never acknowledged in my seventeen and a half years. With that, I left the table and decided to avoid everyone as much as possible until the jury had made a ruling and the judge had sentenced Myra if she was found guilty.
Two weeks later, my Mom entered my room, where I had spent all of my time other than going to school since I walked out on Francis's lunch table preaching.
"Darrell, what are you doing?" Mom asked me, with an air of worry.
"Nothing," I truthfully replied.
"You've been acting rather antisocial lately. What's been going on?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"But why? I'm your Mom; you can tell me anything."
"I know, Mom; I just don't want to talk about it with anyone right now. I'll talk about it when I feel like it."
"Okay, Darrell. I just wanted to tell you that a decision has been made concerning Myra."
It was the news I had been waiting for, the news that I had endured two weeks of disconcertion for because it had taken so long to arrive. "What happened?"
"The jury found her guilty of first-degree murder."
I didn't know what to say to that, so I just moved on to the next question. "When is her sentencing going to be?"
"She has already been sentenced; her parents wanted the matter to be expedited."
"So what will become of her?"
"Darrell, I don't know how prepared you are to take something like this, but, since you want to know, I will tell you." Mom took a deep breath before continuing. "Myra will be condemned."
"She's gonna die for it?!" I was shocked, shocked that the justice system would allow for something that extreme in the case of an eighteen-year-old high school senior. But I took solace in it, because it meant that once Myra was disposed of, my own worries would die with her.
The day finally came, the day when I could return to a normal state of being. It was a school day, so it was hard to contain my anticipation, especially since it wouldn't be until three o'clock when Myra's execution would take place. It had been three long months since she was sentenced, so I was heavily bogged down with exhaustion over my worry, the worry that the truth would somehow be revealed just in time before the execution, before my lies became the truth. But now the chance of that was next to none, so I waited for three o'clock. At that time I would be in last hour.
And when last hour caught up with me, I walked into the classroom with a prideful smile on my face, believing that my problems would be solved by the time the bell rang. So I tried to listen to the liecture while trying to contain my relief; it wasn't easy. During that time, however, I had no idea about what would strike me next, much less that what was going to happen signaled the beginning of the end for me.
A sudden sharp pain in my side knifed through me as though I was really being stabbed, and, without thinking, I looked at my watch: it was five minutes after three o'clock. Myra was probably already dead, and when that notion entered my mind, that night behind the cinema became a hypothetical two-by-four that really hit me in the face. I became nauseated at the revelation, so I ran out of the classroom without a word to the teacher or any of the other students and made way for the men's room on the other side of the hall. I barely made it there when I regurgitated my entire lunch. At that point, I realized that the stabbing pain in my side was really a hypothetical stabbing, a hypothetical stabbing that symbolized the real stabbing of Garrett, the real stabbing that I committed and lied about.
'How can this be? How can my own crime physically retaliate against me?' I remember thinking. 'And why at this time, the time that someone died for it? It is so opportune, such perfect timing, but how? In what way can this be possible...unless-" The epiphany literally knocked me off balance. 'Unless God is punishing me now, punishing me for making truths out of my destructive lies!' Was there really a God, the God who is spoken of in church, the God who rewards the good and punishes the evil?
"Where are You, God? Do You exist?" I screamed, before I blacked out.
When I woke up late that night, my Mom was sitting next to me in my room. "How did I wind up here?" I asked her, effortlessly slurring my words.
"You blacked out in the bathroom at school. People heard you shout something, and someone went into the bathroom when the bell rang and found you there. So I came and got you and brought you back home; you were still breathing."
"I remember screaming, but not the rest." I remembered what I had screamed, and worry and fear pervaded me again.
"Do you remember what exactily it was you screamed?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"But, Darrell, I'm worried about you. There must be something that is consuming you."
"I just don't want to talk about it right now. I don't know if I'll ever want to talk about it. No one would believe me anyway."
"I'll believe you, Darrell. But I don't suppose I'll force anything out of you. Just get some rest for right now." With that, Mom left my room.
Rest was the last thing I could have done at that time, and I have been restless ever since that night four months ago.
That Sunday, I attended church with my parents as usual, but during the Sunday School hour I did not go to youth congregation; I couldn't face anyone there. So instead I went to the empty chapel and prayed for the very first time.
"God, are You there?" I paused for a second or two. "Well, even if You aren't, I'm still gonna talk. All of my lies and my lethal deed have caught up with my conscience, or lack thereof, and I can't take it anymore. Forgive me if you choose to do so; only You know whether or not I deserve it. But no matter what you decide to do with me as far as forgiveness is concerned, please just give me a sign! Show me that you exist!"
When I stood up and left the chapel, the weight of my guilt was still on my shoulders and still is now, but there was a small glint of hope in that I had at least tried to discover God. If only it were enough, enough to erase my fault! But that was not the case, so here I am today, sitting in my closet, knowing that I could have avoided it, but it has long been too late.
I am holding a homemade noose, a circle of justice that will hopefully end this circle of injustice that I set in motion. As I tie it around the highest clothing rack in my closet, I think about God. He is a loving God, and even if He forgave me for my mortal sin, I know that he will never, ever make Myra or Garrett face me, their killer, the usurper of their everything, in Heaven because Heaven is a pain-free zone. And God is right.
I take solace in the fact that Myra and Garrett are in Heaven together and happier than they were during their happiest time on Earth; at least that one good thing resulted from my wrongdoing. But still the truth is hidden from the rest of the world, and I am choosing to die today so that the truth will be found and my lies won't matter anymore. At this point, it doesn't matter what will become of me in my afterlife or if I will even have an afterlife, because no matter what happens to me then, the truth will no longer be obscured.
Dear Mom and Dad,
By the time you read the real story about Myra and Garrett and see this note, I will be gone. But don't worry about me; you and everyone else are better off without my circle of injustice surrounding all of you. Take solace in the fact that the truth is no longer obscure and that you and I are free of my atrocities. I care about you enough to release you at the price of my existence.
Sincerely signed,
Darrell
I decide to place the papers that bear my explanation on my dresser, where Mom and Dad will notice them easily. Then I go back into my closet and climb the step ladder until the noose hangs in my face. [Darrell, you son of a bitch! This cruelty will come back to you somehow!] That is the last time those words will go through my head, because now is the time to pay for it in full. I am glad that it will all be over, so I wait no longer to complete the circle.
------
"Call unto me, and I will answer thee, and show thee great and mighty things, which thou knowest not."-Jeremiah 33:3, King James Version
"Your word is a lamp to guide my feet and a light for my path."-Psalm 119:105, New Living Translation
The present and future are not about who you were in the past-rather, they are about who you are and who you will become.
"Writing is truly glorious in that an author can put on paper the words that fear denies the voice to speak."-from my short story, "Set Free"
"...What you feel is what you are;
What you are is beautiful..."
-from "Slide" by the Goo Goo Dolls
Life surprises you! And I'm talking about the good stuff, because a bad surprise is not a surprise at all, it is just shock and horror. All of these good surprises, they are rewards, and the things that happen to remind you that you matter and that you should make yourself faithful so that you can be deserving of all of life's good surprises. Every wonderful surprise in life is a chance to flourish, so grab life by the horns-but don't ride, steer instead: life's horns are life's joystick. You can handle it, because your life's horns are made especially for you. If you don't give up, all of this will hold true and life will continue to surprise you.
Aubri, a. k. a. "Leopard Lady"
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A Christmas Concert
