Vein Fire Read Free Page B

echo of fat. Her knees and calves were different. They popped bone and blood immediately. Bone shards frayed her skin and the blood melted down her legs and onto the mattress. If he remembered it in slow motion, it was quite beautiful.
    Matt didn’t see the situation as “right” or “wrong”, he saw it as necessary. Hannah needed it done to her. He could have killed her by striking her face with the cinder block instead of her legs, or by luring her into the woods and strangling her. He didn’t see the point in ending her—she didn’t need to be killed; she only needed to be taught a lesson. Taking her life would have been an act of anger; he wanted to deal back the humiliation.
    It took Matt one day to realize medication time should be followed by two things: cheek and spit. Anyone who wasn’t doing this spent their time sleeping on the chairs in the common room or dozing off during group therapy sessions. These were the people Matt believed neither the doctors nor he could help; they were hopeless.
    Everyone sectioned off into cliques, just like high school. The fire starters huddled in groups, whispering and giggling like little girls. The real lunatics walked around talking to themselves and were shunned by everyone. There were the budding pedophiles who sat in writhing groups, palming their clothes until they could sneak off in pairs for gratification. Lastly, the watchers were people like Matt who quietly observed others, lost in the pudding of their next plan, or savoring the joys of what they had already done. The watchers could pass as normal and possessed the most chance of slipping back into society.
    After a month, Matt had made one fr iend, Jared. Jared watched the others, like Matt. His pale blond-hair and small build made him look like one of the elementary aged boys, but he was only a year younger than Matt. The way his face pinched inward reminded Matt of a rat, mostly because it accentuated his slightly bucked front teeth and his beady eyes.
    Jared explained that he liked to see people fly, and that’s why he was in Oakmont. He had a theory—if someone was special enough, they could fly. He said he thought it was some sort of unconscious power all humans had, and it only needed the right catalyst to emerge. Jared was the catalyst. At first, he dropped his younger brother over the banister of their porch. After numerous attempts, he decided his brother’s palsied-like falls meant he wasn’t special enough to fly, and he moved on to trying to pick out the extraordinary people.
    Jared was sure a classmate named Clarissa was one of the special ones. He watched her for many months at school—she was beautiful. Patient, his chance arrived at a football game. Clarissa and her girlfriends crowed at the top of the bleachers. They had jumped over the railing and were talking to the boys down below them on the ground. She was wearing white jeans and a white windbreaker over a little pink top. Perfect. Jared made his way up to the top of the bleachers and positioned himself behind Clarissa. Quickly, he gave her one good push, and she fell. Her windbreaker caught the air, and for a second, she looked like a little white bird with a pink belly. She seemed to pause for a second before she hit the ground in a crunch of bone and failure. She died. Jared was certain she was almost able to fly—maybe she only needed a few more tries. He said he was glad she hadn’t screamed…it would have ruined it.
    Only one boy saw him push Clarissa. When the psychiatrist evaluated him and sensed something was “off” with Jared, he committed him to Oakmont for long-term placement. There was no court hearing and no jury, just an article in the daily newspaper and an agreement with his parents that he should stay until he was eighteen.
    Jared explained it to Matt…it wasn’t much of a choice really; getting pushed was something Clarissa needed. Matt understood him perfectly well. He shared his story about Hannah, the