My Secret, Our Secret

We all have at least one secret. Something, perhaps, that you just didn’t want anyone else to know. That time you picked your nose and ate it, I mean we all have probably done that, but we don’t want to advertise it. The time you hooked up in college when you were drunk, with a very regrettable partner. The time you picked up money on the street and put it in your pocket, even though shortly after you heard someone asking if anyone had seen it. The time you called into work sick and stayed home to relax, just because. Of course you didn’t even tell your spouse.

We all have secrets, some big, some small. Some that are hidden deep down inside us, that we don’t want anyone to ever know. Some are just embarassing little instances of poor judgement that, while not being truly reprehensible, we just prefer no one knows.

I have a secret. Can you guess what my secret might be? Well, I suppose you don’t know me very well yet and that will make it difficult.

I am a relatively large man, once a relatively large boy. I am tall, with broad shoulders and a thick chest. Not particularly long arms for my height, but they do display some signs of power in them.

When I was young I lived in a relatively rough neighborhood. That is to say, there was quite a bit of violence from time to time. Occasionally in my neighborhood a dead body would turn up. They might have been shot, stabbed, or just had their head cracked open with a blunt object.

You had to be careful where you went by yourself. Some places were just off limits unless you were in with the right people. There again, those people were usually wrong in quite a few ways, but you get the idea.

I have a secret. I have had this secret for what feels like a very long time. I have never told anyone this secret. I should probably not tell anyone this secret, but I feel it might do my soul some good. It might take a weight off my shoulders. It might lighten my load, as they say. Can you guess my secret yet?

I can see the wheels turning now. I can feel your sense of caution at where this might be going. It was a rather dark experience for me. I hate to make someone else relive it.

But, like I said, we all have secrets. I mean you have at least one secret, right? So you can relate. There has to be a time in everyone’s life when they did something even though they knew it was wrong.

I think you may be struggling though, so I will give you a hint. It involves an act of violence. An act of violence on my part of course.

No, you say. I seem like such a nice person, don’t I? Well, I already told there was a lot of violence in my neighborhood and sometimes it’s just hard not to get caught up in that. I normally wouldn’t have thought I was even capable of such thing. When someone brings violence to you, I suppose it can bring out the violence in you.

I have a secret. But, I don’t want this secret anymore. I have to warn you, if you keep reading from this point, my secret will become yours. You will then have to decide what to do with it. I hope if you do keep reading to remember, we all have secrets and perhaps mine is no worse than yours.

I was walking home from school. I couldn’t drive yet, I was only 15. I remember the sun being out as summer was coming in, only a few wisps of clouds in the sky. A very nice day to be out, if only it wouldn’t have led to my secret.

I had a little money and stopped at the corner store to buy a Coke. When I walked out I was approached by a man who looked rough to say the least, unkempt hair, tangled beard, and likely not bathed for a week. He had a rough raspy voice, though his years didn’t indicate he should have, and he asked if I could buy him a bottle of whiskey. Apparently the folks inside were bastards and wouldn’t serve him, according to him. The last bit he uttered with a hissing and spitting that would have put to shame any snake.

I said I was sorry, but I wouldn’t be able to do that.

He said, “Why not? You too good to help me out, too?”

“No,” I said, “they wont sell it to me.”

Apparently he didn’t buy that. He looked at me squint eyed for a moment, spat very nearly on my feet, and then yelled, “Piss off with ya!”

I was very much inclined to do just that by this point. I really wish my life would have been that simple on that day. I of course started quickly on my way home, happy to be rid of the rough looking man.

He apparently wasn’t ready to be rid of me though, because when I happened to look around after taking a sip of my Coke, I realized the man had been following me from a distance, about a half a block back or so. I unconsciously paused for a moment. I started walking again, thinking I didn’t want him to notice I had seen him. I picked up my pace slightly, once again hoping he wouldn’t notice.

I checked back over my shoulder a few moments later and didn’t see the man anywhere. I felt a sense of relief, assuming that he had given up pursuing me. After all, I was a boy, I had very little money on me, nothing else of value, and I had tried not to provoke him.

I walked for another minute or so, maybe two minutes at the most. I approached a corner alley that I had been past at least a hundred times before. Occassionally a couple people stood down in the alley, discussing whatever people discuss in alleys, but usually there was nothing there but a dumpster. Today though, today the rough man stood there, unbeknownst to me. When I stepped just next to the alley his hand sprung out and snatched me by the arm.

He had been standing there face up against the near wall waiting for me to come by. Now he had me and despite my brief yell of, “Hey, what the...”, before he got his other hand on my mouth. I didn’t think anyone had seen me get pulled in.

This is not my secret. This I could have reported to this police. I could have told my parents. I could tell you and you would probably not think any the worse of me. I have a secret and it’s about to be yours.

The man was dragging me back in despite the fact I was struggling at his arms and wrestling my body to get free. Eventually he had me back far enough or got tired of my struggling and threw me up against the dumpster. I yelled in pain.

“Shut your mouth or I’ll slit your throat right now,” he seethed at me.

I watched him, horror growing in my mind as I realized he was brandishing a razor blade at me.

“I’m going to teach you a lesson,” he said, as he continued waving the razor blade wildly. “You think I’m nothing, that you can make a fool of me. Well I’m no fool!”

I sat there on the pavement taking this in. My heart was pumping like it wanted to explode. My mind was searching for a way out. It was then I noticed the loose brick on the wall next to me, by my elbow.

The man went on ranting at me, though I’m not sure what else he said. I was too busy reaching for this brick. Praying in my mind that it would come loose. I felt it’s rough texture and grabbed at it firmly, pulling it. It didn’t immediately come free, but as I felt an increasing sense of dread as the man closed the last few feet, it popped free. As it came out, I swung it in one motion from behind my hip towards his head. I caught him hard, just above his left temple. He fell over sideways then.

I stood up quickly, hopping to my feet. The man was still conscious, I wasn’t safe. I drew the brick back and fired it at his head. It struck him right square in the forehead. His body fell back limp, no longer trying to support itself. A trickle of blood formed and started to leak down his forehead and across his eye onto his cheek.

I kicked the razor blade out of his hand, which was now open and limp. I actually kicked his hand more than anything, which also helped to prove he was out. I grabbed the brick again, fear still coursing through my veins. It had been my only protection.

At this point I could have ran. I could have thrown that brick down and walked away around the corner to find someone to call the police. I mentioned that my neighborhood was rough and I knew that most guys didn’t spend long in jail before they were right back on the street. I was afraid. I didn’t even understand why this guy had come after me in the first place, let alone have a chance of guessing whether he would come after me again.

I made a decision then. That decision is part of my secret and what I did next was the whole of it.

My mind was still racing and I thought the man needed to die for me to be safe. I thought about bludgeoning him with the brick, but then I would be covered in blood. His razor blade? No, still likely to cover me in blood.

I dropped the brick, I kicked him once in the ribs to make sure he was out good. This caused little more than a wheezing breath. I jumped down on his chest with my legs straddling him. I grabbed his throat with both hands and squeezed with all my strength. I squeezed harder than I had ever squeezed anything in my life. After, a few moments his body convulsed slightly. Probably trying harder to suck in some air. Then, I felt him go limp. No more chest moving up and down under me. No more movenment at all.

I let go then, when I knew he was dead. When I knew I had killed him. I didn’t have to kill him, but I chose to. I don’t regret it, most days.

I had a secret, now you do too!