Karma

Karma
By V.Rivera
AN: This was a one-shot, and it took a few hours, but it’s done and I’m satisfied.

Sometimes karma hits you harder than you thought it would.

~//~

Dear Vincent,

Hey there. It’s Vango. I bet you’re not thrilled to hear from me, but I’m writing this letter whether you read it or not.

You know, Vincent. I didn’t think you would actually do something like this. I… didn’t think you could. You sure know how to make me feel like shit, huh?

It’s been a week or so since it happened, Vin, and I’m still as shocked as ever. The thought of it haunts me. It scares the shit out of me to the point that I can’t even sleep. I can’t avoid the thoughts when I see you.

Long story short, Vin… I have never regretted anything as much as I do this. I’ve never been so fucking ashamed of myself. I can’t live with myself and I don’t think I’ll be able to much longer, but I need this out of my system. The part that hurts most, though, is that I can’t speak to you.

So, here I am writing to you. Even if you never read this letter, I won’t feel so bad about bottling all of this shit inside of me.

…

Right now, one of the millions of things on my mind is where you’ve gone. You’re obviously not with me, and I don’t think you’d want to be after I explain myself. But Vin, I don’t care. I don’t deserve any kind of mercy and I’m positive you wouldn’t even try to consider forgiving me. So, to start off, I’ll answer the question you had asked a week ago.

What happened, Vin? The only word I can think of to describe what happened was: extreme. It should never have happened, and it never should have come to my mind.

Yes, my mind.

Vin, I’m the one responsible. I’m the one who took what you did that night too far. You remember that night, don’t you?

I remember it too clearly. We were at the bar, though we hadn’t planned to go together. You were edgy about me being around you. A cute girl sat next to me and I tried to talk to her, but I made the stupid mistake of doing it right next to you, so you opened your mouth the moment I gave hints that I was aiming for a one-night stand.

I bet you thought the story you made up about me was funny, huh Vin? You thought it would drive the bitch away and piss me off, but you kept going from there. You went into all kinds of details that never happened, about how I have STDs and my boyfriend wouldn’t like it if he found out I was flirting with girls…

To put it bluntly, Vin, I didn’t like it. It really annoyed me, and I didn’t even bother with that girl anymore. I turned to you and we bickered as we usually did. But something was wrong there, and I noticed it as I countered each insult you tried to throw at me.

You were tripping over your words. Everything you tried to say was slurred to the point that it sounded like you were speaking German or some crazy shit to me. You were insanely drunk, Vin, and I used it to my advantage.

Even though we liked to bitch at each other, I know something else is there. I know it, I see it and I fucking feel it. It’s like we’re both puzzle pieces, and we fit together perfectly. Something about you made me feel more complete when you were around… Did you ever feel that way, Vin? Did I complete you?

…Who am I kidding, you fucking hate me.

That night at the bar, I took your beer. When you weren’t paying attention – In fact, I think you had turned to ask somebody for the time – I took some of my morphine pills and dropped them into the keg. I was on them for a while back because of an ear infection. It left me deaf in my right ear, but it still hurt like a bitch.

You cursed me out and snatched your beer, and I let you. That was my mistake, Vin. I never should have let you chug down that entire fucking can and swallow all the pills I dropped in. They were small, so I’m sure you didn’t even know.

As much as a mistake I think it is now, on that night I didn’t give a fuck. I wasn’t happy and I was gonna make sure karma came to you. If it didn’t, I was gonna bring it to you myself…

And that’s what I ended up doing, Vin.

When you were at the point that you couldn’t even keep yourself sitting up, I brought you with me to the bathroom. I made it look like all I wanted to do was hold your hair back as you threw up or something. It looked innocent enough to other people at the bar, and I knew you didn’t care because you were on the verge of passing out.

I locked the door behind us and, when I was sure nobody was around, I let you drop to the floor. There was no way you could fight back in the state you were in that night, so I took advantage of anything I could possibly do to you. I took your clothes off and blindfolded you with your own shirt in case you came to, and I undid my pants as well. I’m guessing you can figure out what happened next, Vin…

I didn’t think it would hurt you that badly. I thought I could just get revenge and that’d be that, like it usually is. Whenever we fight, we get over it in a day and we’re talking again, but I went so far that this past week, it’s been hard not to think about it. I know it’s been on your mind too.

In a day or so, after you were found in the bathroom unconscious and rushed to a hospital, you were discharged. You were diagnosed with Post-traumatic Stress Disorder, and even I knew it before you could tell me. The first person you went to after you left the hospital was me... You were shaking, Vin. You were terrified, even though it was over. You didn’t even realize I was the one who raped you – I could tell from the look in your eye that you were clueless.

God, Vin. The first thing you said to me still echoes in my head. It makes me shudder.

“Help me, Van.”

I tried so hard to pretend I was surprised. I brought you inside the house and we sat dow—Well, no, I sat down. You lied down and let your head rest in my lap on the couch. You explained what you remembered, which was us arguing. You even apologized to me, Vin.

I’d never witnessed you crying, and you were hysterical. At one point, each sob shook you so hard you had to hold onto me. The apology was another thing that got me, Vin. My heart began to race so fast, I was so angry... But I wasn’t angry at you. I was fucking pissed at myself. I was so guilty, and I still am. I should have known you’d apologize to me eventually, Vin. You always do. That’s just the gentleman you are.

I told you it was okay for you to stay with me until you felt better. You felt so vulnerable; you didn’t even want to go outside. But you accepted and I let you sleep in my bed while I took the couch every night. You seemed like you were starting to feel better.

Around Wednesday, after two days of doing nothing but talking and watching movies, you wanted to go out to have dinner. You were even gonna treat me, but I said no. We split the bill instead.

I never thought you’d look to me for protection, Vin. At the restaurant, we got a booth. Remember? You asked me to sit next to you while you stayed against the wall. We only occupied one side of the table, and even though I assured you that nothing was going to happen, you were still sunk down in your seat, giving threatening looks to the waiter. I had to apologize for that.

You were pretty paranoid, even after we’d left. You insisted that I hold your hand so I wouldn’t leave your side, and as we walked home you wouldn’t look up from the sidewalk. It really broke my heart, Vin. This was something I’d never seen you do. I know you’re a bit eccentric, but you were overboard last week. Nobody had ever seen you the way I’d seen you at the bar, and I know how much you hate your body. Your house doesn’t have a single mirror.

I don’t care how ugly you think you are, Vin. You’re not ugly. Being different doesn’t mean you’re unattractive. I mean, look at me. I don’t think I’m hideous, and we’re practically the same. I know you’re beautiful.

Those scars of yours are another story, though... I don’t like them. I’ve seen them going up your arms. Did you ever get over that cutting phase you had? I know you’d never intentionally cut to try to take your own life, Vin. You’re better than that. You don’t let your childhood bother you like it bothers other people in your situation. You’re just a masochist. I personally think it’s fine – Whatever floats your boat doesn’t bother me, but I don’t want to see it.

Wednesday night, we watched another movie that I picked up on the way home. I think you liked that one. I purposely picked a humorous movie to try to get you to laugh. Well, you smirked a few times. You chuckled at one point. While I was crying from hysterical laughing, you just sat there with a grin on your face. That was enough for me, Vin. I was sick of seeing you so upset. You should smile more often, you know. I have to admit you have a cute smile.

When the movie was over, we watched some shows on cable for a while, and you fell asleep on me, remember? I normally don’t let you get so near me, but I was still so regretful I had to swallow my pride last week. It was too late then - I couldn’t possibly tell you that I was your rapist with positive results... Not that anything positive would have come out of a confession like that. I kept it inside all week, Vin. I kept it, and I shouldn’t have, because your oblivion made you more depressed, and then came Thursday.

I was surprised when you told me you felt ready to go home that afternoon. It was a relief, but I never would have guessed from your mood the day before. Like the idiot I was, I gave you a hug and wished you well without even considering the consequences of sending you home alone. I should have walked you there to make sure you’d be all right.

You left, and my shoulders felt lighter.

I did sit down to watch the news an hour later, though. I usually checked it for the weather, to make sure it’d be nice enough to go out at night. When I realized the weather report wouldn’t be on yet, I went to the kitchen to get a drink.

But then the broadcast was interrupted... There was live footage of an ambulance and a mass of people in the town square a few blocks down, and when I noticed it I made my way back over. The headline on the bottom of the screen mentioned a suicide in the middle of town. A man shot himself without any warning and was dead by the time the ambulance got there. When I got a glimpse of the man on the ground in a puddle of blood, face down... I could almost feel my heart stop. I froze in place, and my beer bottle fell right out of my hand and crashed to the floor.

The man on the ground was you, Vin.

I’d never felt so many things at once. I was shocked, astonished, and even nauseous. But more than anything, I felt guilty. Vin, you never would have thought about it had you known that I was the one who hurt you. Had I faced the music and confessed that I raped you before anything, even if you never spoke to me again, you wouldn’t have become so traumatized.

But no, I had to make sure I got you back after you embarrassed me. I wanted you to see how it felt to be embarrassed... And I succeeded. Last week was the worst week of my life. I haven’t slept since you died, Vin. I still can’t come to terms with it because it could have been avoided.

What happened shouldn’t have been you. If I could take your place, Vin, I would. If it meant everything could be back to normal, and you’d still be around, I’d take your place in a heartbeat. You didn’t deserve to feel so depressed.

I’ve come to a conclusion, though. After a long time of thinking – And trust me, I had plenty of time thinking without sleeping for a whole week - I know what I want to do now.

I’m in bed with the light on, and I have loose leaf on a clipboard in my lap. I’m writing this with my right hand, Vin. In my left hand, I’m holding my gun to my temple. I’m shaking a little because I’ve had it there the whole time, cocked and everything. My finger’s on the trigger, but before I pull it, I have one more thing to say, now that you’ve read this letter.

Whether you forgive me or not, Vincent, I’m sorry.

Bye, Vin.
Vango.

~//~