Crimson

Kelly was the one with the golden hair. We literally bumped into each other at Hyphen Park when remnants of winter had disappeared, breathing new life to a fresh spring morning. 

"Yo, head's up!" I hear from a distance. Next thing you know, I was tackled to the ground by a giant with a mop of messy blonde hair. I don’t recall much about my father, but his hair was the same shade as this young man’s. Dad used to take me to this very park and tell me stories about the magnificent swans that live here.

A voice jolted me back to reality. “I’m so so sorry. Are you okay?” the blonde asked while offering me his well-groomed hand. Trying my best not to look annoyed, I stretched my neck and took his hand to lift myself off of the grass. “Thanks,” I managed to say, “I should be fine.” He offered his hand again, this time for a handshake. “I’m Kelly by the way.”

“I’m Olivia” I replied, as I shook his hand. My eyes slowly took in his outfit—a familiar crest on a maroon sweatshirt—my alma mater. “You went to Warner?” I asked, curiosity getting the best of me.

“I have a huge trust fund, so I’m heading to Warner in the fall” he said nonchalantly, like every kid in town had trust funds falling onto their laps. I couldn’t blame him, I remember feeling entitled myself, up until my grandfather’s death just before I went away for college. I had to fend for myself from then on, working two part-time jobs in addition to interning at a law firm. You'd think a successful man like Oliver Wyndham III would've left his only granddaughter and surviving heir a hefty inheritance, but he gave every damn thing away to charity. The only things he left behind were the house and hundred-acre lot I live in now, as well as his prized treasury collection that I'm legally bound not to sell or auction off for cash. Sometimes I wonder if he ever loved me, or if he blamed me for my father’s untimely death.

Trying hard to get my head out of reminiscing about the past, I decided to continue on my conversation with Kelly. “Warner... Are you there for law?”

“Yes! How did you know?” he asked with surprise. Standing at about six-foot five, Kelly reminded me more of a model than someone going into law school.

“You either go to Warner or you don’t. It’s THE law school. I should know, I went there” I replied as-a-matter-of-factly. “It’s also the reason why I got accepted at Gottorp & Shield. The firm is like a Warner minefield.”

“I’d love to hear more about your time at Warner and how you ended up at Gottorp & Shield, did you want to grab a coffee or something later on today?” Kelly asked, notably impressed at what I had just told him. I don’t usually talk about work outside of the office, but I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished; I worked hard to get to where I am today. Not relying on my grandfather’s wealth or connections had been a challenge from the very beginning, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way. They say hardship makes you a stronger person, but I beg to differ. It’s how you overcome obstacles that gives you character; I attribute my ruthlessness to my past.

All this talk about law school reminded me of a period in my life I’ve rarely shared with anyone, so why not get some thoughts off my chest and have some crimson fun while I’m at it? I decided to extend Kelly an invitation to my humble abode. “I’m not really into caffeine, but I have a bottle of Dom Perignon I’ve been meaning to share. Why don’t you come over tonight?”

“Sounds like a plan, I’ll be there at 6” he said enthusiastically before grabbing my phone. “Here’s my number too, so you can message me your address.” I spent the rest of the afternoon preparing for Kelly’s arrival, and I made sure to bring out all my Warner gear--yearbooks, textbooks, sweatpants, hoodies, shot glasses and other cheesy memorabilia. I even found an old album of my wild days at Phi Alpha Delta.

Kelly came at around dinner time, but I didn’t bother making food or ordering in because I’m not about to domesticate myself for a boy. He did smell nice though, I had to give him that. I’ve always been a sucker for woody scents.

“Crazy sorority parties, eh?” Kelly chuckled, pointing to the half opened photo album on the rug. “That’s awesome, I’m pledging Phi Alpha Delta. Purple and gold all the way!”

“You know you’re only getting in because of your Daddy,” I taunted. “Have you achieved anything in life without your parents’ help?”

Kelly’s face scrunched up in confusion. “I thought you got into Warner because of your family? I didn’t know you weren’t...”

“That I wasn’t what? Not one of you?” I interrupted.

“No, what I meant to say is that it’s not really uncommon to find trust fund babies at Warner” he shrugged.

The way he said it irked me—the sheer tone of entitlement that comes with having everything served to you on a silver platter. Perhaps I was jealous, wishing my parents were still alive to make me feel like I’m on top of the world, at least for a little while. I scanned the room for my scalpel. This pointless conversation had to end, and I have to put an end to it. Or rather, him.

“Look, Kelly, it was great meeting you and all, but I think you’ve overstayed your welcome. I think my living room can no longer house your huge ego” I said with disgust.

“Did I offend you? I’ll say sorry, but I’d be lying if I said I mean it. I don’t think I did or said anything wrong” he sneered.

Damn it, my scalpel was nowhere to be found. I’m really considering getting those hidden fanny packs from the Home Shopping Network that would make my kill gear more accessible. Scrambling for something to shut him up with, I grabbed the first thing in sight—the freshly chilled bottle of Dom Perignon I meant to share earlier.

“Apologizing is the last thing you should be worrying about” I said as I snuck my way behind him and hit his nape with the bottle. Upon impact, expensive champagne sprayed out onto the living room floor. He either passed out from shock or my workouts are finally paying off. Either way, he’s down for the meantime and I’m not complaining. I duct taped his arms and legs, seeing that he was a good foot taller than me. That should restrain him until this whole fiasco is over.

I carefully picked up olive green shards nearby and what appeared to be jagged remains of the bottle’s lower half. Eight minutes later, Kelly stirred on the floor. The first thing that came out of him was an incredulous “Holy shit!” followed by other expletives and fumbled scrambling attempts. I went over to his pathetic form, forced his mouth open and slid several glass pieces down his throat.

He murmured something I faintly understood as "Get your hands off me!" before he bit my index and middle fingers. I cringed in pain but didn’t mind acquiring a few battle scars. I continued to force more glass into his badly bleeding mouth. He tried to fight the sharp invasion with his now swollen tongue, but his larynx spasmed shut until all you could hear was glass crunching against the soft walls of his diaphragm as he gasped for air.

“Your Daddy won’t be helping you now, will he?” I remarked mockingly as I stood over his lifeless body. He lay there, still as the lake at Hyphen Park, his beautiful golden hair dotted with flecks of crimson.