Absolutely Worthless

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
Christopher Myer's childhood greatly impacts him later on in life, as the only feeling he recalls is "emptiness" as everything goes perfect for him.

Submitted: October 10, 2015

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Submitted: October 10, 2015

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“If anything happens, stay in here, okay Chris? This is your safe haven,” said a woman dragging her son into a closet as a door shut hard down in the living room.

 

Her son looked really confused, and began to shake. Sounds of hard footsteps came up the stairs and strong yelling came up from the bottom story of the house. The woman looked at the door to the room, and back at her son whose eyes got really red. She kissed his cheek, as a tear fell down her cheek. The room was really dim.

 

“I love you Christopher Myer,” she said as she closed the closet door, leaving a little crack open, “whatever happens, don’t come out.”

 

The door of the room swung open, and a light was turned on showing previous bruises on the woman who began to shake. The man at the door stunk the room with alcohol. He mumbled incoherent words as he stumbled towards her, and yanked her hair. They both screamed as he pulled out a gun from the back of his pants. The woman’s son saw everything from the crack of the open closet door. The man took the safety off the gun, and put it to the woman’s head, and not a second later, he pulled the trigger once, then again. There was a long silence, as he shot her again. He still grabbed her by the hair, as he looked at the crack of the closet door.

 

He looked right into the woman’s son’s eyes, and then put the gun to his head. A teardrop fell down his cheek as he squeezed his eyes closed, and shot himself.

 

Chris ran out of the closet to see his mom, motionless. He grabbed the phone off of the nightstand in the room and called 911.

 

“What’s your emergency?” asked the dispatcher.

 

“My dad killed my mom,” said Chris calmly.

 

“Is your dad still there?”

 

“No, he killed himself too.”

 

“Where are you at right now?”

 

“442 Pine St.”

 

“I have deputies on their way. I want you to go outside and wait for them. Okay?”

 

Chris went outside and was met by two police officers who just got their.


 

SIX YEARS LATER…..


 

Chris was in a foster home for the last past six years, and is now starting High School.

 

“Hey, Chris, there’s two people here that want to adopt you,” said Mrs.Aldrich, “put on your best clothes, their waiting down in my office for you.”

 

Mrs.Aldrich went downstairs into her office, with a woman and her daughter, both dressed nice. The woman was dressed with a vest, and her daughter was dressed in a cute little dress that covered her petite body, with her hair curled.

 

“He’ll be down in just a moment,” said Mrs.Aldrich.

 

“Does he like to play piano?” the woman asked.

 

“Oh yes,” Mrs.Aldrich said, “he performs in Grownbay High School all the time.”

 

“Good, because we have a piano in our living room, and it’s never been touched, maybe he’ll play for us,” they both looked excited.

 

“One thing though, don’t ask about his real parents, that’s something that’s really sensitive, okay?”

 

They both shook their head, as Chris walked to their door.

 

“Hey Chris, these people want to adopt you, remember? From our first meeting?” Mrs.Aldrich asked.

 

The two people walked up to Chris and stuck their arms out for a hug.

 

“I’m your foster parent Mrs.Grant and she’s your foster sister Vivian.”

 

They hugged Chris, as they walked out carrying his suitcase.

 

“If you guys have any problems, you can come right back,” said Mrs.Aldrich hugging Chris goodbye.

 

They walked to a black Mercede Benz at the end of the driveway of the foster home. They went into the car.

 

“So, Mrs.Aldrich says you're quite the pianist,” says Mrs.Grant as she put on a CD titled The best of Mozart: Classics.

 

They went across Grownbay, to the more secluded part of town, to The Palisades. They went up Haven Drive, to a mansion, where the electric doors opened up to the first sign of the Black Mercedes.

 

“Mozart’s kids would taunt him by playing incomplete scales of the piano, which forced him to rush downstairs to actually complete them,” said Chris looking out of the window to the perfectly trimmed grass of The Palisades. Nothing seemed out of order at all.

 

Chris looked at the large house as his foster mom pulled his suitcase, and his foster sister pulled his hand into the house, joyfully.

 

They walked in to get a tour of the house. The three living rooms, the indoor and outdoor kitchens, the dining room with huge chandeliers, and the huge staircase that takes you to the 6 rooms up stairs, and a closet door that would take you to the attic.

 

“Do you two live here alone?” asked Chris.

 

“Yes,” replied Vivian, “after my dad died, we have all of this and no one to share it with.”

 

Chris shook his head as she dragged him to the main living room, and she took a dusty tarp that covered a stainless, dustless piano.

 

“Dad used to play it,” she said as Mrs.Grant walked in.

 

“It’s yours,” she said with a smile.

 

Chris smiled, as the two hugged each other smiling back at Chris. They went upstairs to Chris’s room. It had a huge bed, bright colors, with a chandelier in the middle of the room, drawers, nightstands, and a huge closet. There was only one window though, that faces westward. The sun was beginning to set.

 

“Oh,” said Mrs.Grant, “I’m going to start cooking right now.”

 

She walked out of the room as Vivian began to unpack Chris’s suitcase.

 

Chris rolled up his long sleeves as he began to fix the bed. Vivian looked over to see scars on both wrists.

 

“What happened to you?” she asked.

 

“You don’t want to know,” said Chris nodding his head.

 

They finished fixing up his new room as Mrs.Grant finally finished cooking. They all sat at the dining table, as they began to eat.

 

“So, you go to Grownbay High School? I never see you there,” said Vivian.

 

“Oh, a lot of people say I find them, they can’t find me. My teacher told me I was a cold war spy, I move only in shadows.”

 

“Do you like new clothes?” asked Mrs.Grant, “I’m taking you shopping tomorrow.”

 

“Good luck with that,” said Vivian to Chris as they began to laugh.

 

Nightfell, and it was getting late so everyone decided to go to bed.

 

Chris slowly, dozed off to sleep.

 

There were a couple gunshots, and screaming. Chris woke up at midnight in the closet as Vivian creaked open the door to his closet, wearing a huge shirt, with just socks., hear up in a bun.

 

“Are you okay Chris? I could hear you screaming from my room.”

 

Chris was balled up in the closet, shivering, scared, sweating.

 

“Do you want to sleep with me tonight?” Vivian asked.

 

Chris didn’t reply to anything, as he began to cry. Vivian walked to the bed, grabbed a blanket, and went back into the closet with Chris, as she closed the closet door.

 

“Don’t be scared Chris,” she said lying down next to him, putting her arm around his waist, “you’re okay now.”

 

“This is your safe haven,” said a whisper.

 

“I love you Christopher Myer,” said Vivian.

 

Chris smiled, and put his arm around her too, as the both of them fell asleep.

 

Chris woke up to Vivian telling him breakfast is ready.

 

“How’d you sleep?” asked Mrs.Garza.

 

Vivian looked at Chris.

 

“Fine,” he replied.

 

“Good,” said Mrs.Garza, “we’re going shopping after this so hurry and get ready.”

 

Chris went up to his room. He finished getting ready and looked out of the window. Everything felt too perfect. Emptiness, loneliness overwhelmed him.

 

“Are you ready?” asked Vivian.

 

“Yeah, thank you for tonight,” said Chris.

 

“I know bad things have happened to you before you came,” said Vivian approaching Chris from his back, and hugging him from behind, “you’re safe now.”

 

Chris smiled.

 

“Are you two ready?” asked Mrs.Garza.

 

The two smiled at each other and shook their head.

They went to the Grownbay Mall, and parked on the top of the parking lot building. Mrs.Garza wasted a lot of money, buying Chris the most popular clothing trends, the most popular and expensive shoes. Meanwhile, Vivian calmly shopped for cute dresses, makeup and lingerie at Victoria’s Secret. Chris still felt empty, and as Mrs.Garza put everything in the trunk, Chris went to the ledge of the parking lot that overviews Grownbay. Vivian followed him.

 

“What are you thinking about?” asked Vivian putting her hand on his back.

 

Chris put his hands on the ledge and jumped over, slowly listening to whispers, screams in his mind as he hit the ground and he opened his eyes, still on the top lot of the parking lot in Grownbay’s Mall, Mrs.Garza trying to fit all the bags in the car’s trunk.

 

“Are you okay?” asked Vivian putting her hand on his back.

 

Chris looked down at the ledge.

 

“What are you thinking about?” she asked.

 

“Why am I here? I feel so empty, I don’t deserve this. I feel absolutely worthless.”

 

“Chris, you deserve to be happy. You deserve to feel, not like this,” she said grabbing his wrist, “if you feel empty, Chris, do something that makes you feel alive, whether it makes you cry, or happy. Make yourself feel. Okay?”

 

Chris hugged her.

 

“I love you Christopher Myer,” she whispered in his mom's voice.

 

“What?” asked Chris pushing her away.

 

“I said I love you,” she said looking at Chris confused.

 

They both walked over to the car, and went back home.

 

They began to bring in their bags from shopping. Mrs.Garza stayed in the living room, as Chris began to organize his room, he needed help organizing, and went to Vivian’s room. The door was cracked open, Chris looked through and saw her trying on her new makeup and lingerie. She was standing up, in front of her large mirror. She wore an all black bra with a cute little bow in the middle with black lace, including her underwear, and long black stockings that had a bow on the top of them. She stopped doing her makeup as she looked at Chris through the mirror, and smiled at him.

 

Chris went back into his room. Nothing. No erection, no rush, no happiness, just pure nothingness. Just pure worthlessness. He grabbed his suitcase from the closet and brung out a handgun that was in a brown paper bag. He looked out the window and put the gun to his head, with a blank expression on his face.

 

He pulled the trigger.

 

Nothing.

 

He forgot to load the gun. But he still felt nothing. He didn’t cry, he didn't flinch, he didn't care. Nothing. Chris reached into a separate part of his suitcase, where he found a sandwich bag that had the gun clip in it.

 

“It’s too perfect,” said a whisper.

 

Chris felt empty as he began to pace back and forth in his room as he loaded his gun.

 

“You don’t deserve this,” said another whisper.

 

“You need to feel,” said the whisper.

 

“No matter whether it makes you happy or sad,” replied another whisper.

 

“You have to feel,” said the last whisper.

 

Chris went to his room door.

 

“Vivian, mom needs you,” he said.

 

Vivian came out of her room in a red robe, and stopped at the top of the staircase as Chris stuck a gun out to her chest and shot her. She gave out a short screech as she fell down the stairs. Chris looked at her body, mangled, the robe opened, and showered her newly bought Victoria Secret lingerie. He walked down stairs, his mom stood up against the couch in shock, as he pulled the trigger twice, striking her head several times. He heard Vivian struggling to breathe, as he walked back to her body at the end of the staircase. She was still alive. Chris stood above her, put the gun to her face, looked away and pulled the trigger again, point blank range. A tear fell down his cheek as he dropped the gun.

 

Chris began to cry. He finally felt.

 

Chris went into the kitchen and grabbed the home phone, and called 911.

 

“911, Grownbay County, what is your emergency?” asked the dispatcher.

 

“I just killed my foster mom and sister,” said Chris calmly.

 

“Where is your emergency?”

 

“442 Haven Drive, the Palisades.”

 

“I have deputies on the way. How did you kill them?”

 

“With a .22.”

 

“Why did you do that? Were you mad?”

 

“No. I just couldn’t feel anything. I wasn’t mad. I just felt like this wasn’t real, I felt it was too perfect. I know that’s selfish. Do you understand?”

 

“I do, who is this?”

 

“Christopher Myer.”

 

“Oh my god. From the Myer Murder-Suicide?”

 

“Yes, why?”

 

“You called me, I was the dispatcher that responded that night.”

 

Chris stayed quiet as he remembered.

 

“I’m a mess,” he whispered as he began to cry, “I feel absolutely worthless.”

 

“We all are,” said the dispatcher, “but we’re here to help.”

 

There was a real awkward silence.

 

“Have you heard about Chino’s Psychiatric Hospital?” asked the dispatcher.


© Copyright 2020 Erick Inzunza. All rights reserved.

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