BMC Oneshots

The Ballad of Jeremy Heere (2/8)

WARNINGS: Heavy murder mention (via blunt force trauma); Mentions of past murder (referencing last chapter); Blood mention; Underage drinking; Swearing; Seriously, This is Really Dark and I Implore You to be Careful

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PART 2: A Rock and A Hard Place

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Brooke Lohst was dead.

Oh, good Lord, Brooke Lohst was dead.

Jeremy knelt on the ground, hands hanging limply by his side as he stared, dumbfounded, down at the petrifying sight of the young girl's lifeless body; the flecks of blue painting the sides of her mouth matched perfectly with the identical liquid that stung Jeremy's hand, the same hand he had used to silence her in her time of need. He was sure he would sustain some scarring or at least a nasty temporary mark simply by the chemical's presence and the discomfort the contact was causing him, but he was much more focused on the life he had just taken and the emotions welling up in his chest, which caused tears to form at the corners of his brilliant eyes. His breathing was shallow and his shoulders carried more tension than he had ever been burdened with, but before he could reflect on the absolute horror he had brought about that night, the squip's voice intervened with further instruction. Its voice seemed higher strung than usual, but Jeremy scrambled with his thoughts to chalk it up to his tainted imagination.

“We need to dispose of her corpse as soon as possible. We don't want anyone catching us, do we?”

Jeremy blinked blankly, but eventually mustered a very small head shake to respond to the squip's advisory. He rose from his position on the floor and towered above the girl, much like he had just moments before in a condition that made him uncomfortable, both then and now. He wiped the remaining drain cleaner on his dress pants, frankly not caring if they got ruined at this point, though his hand still burned; the chemical had marred the palm of his hand in an unpleasant manner, but the pain was nothing compared to the inner turmoil he was confronted with.

Following the computer's urging, he lifted Brooke into a bridal carry and held her tenderly despise the fact that there was no way he could make her endure further injury, then sneaking around back and gently setting her in the dumpster. He was told there would be a time before she was discovered, and Jeremy should have been able to wash his hands of his crime for the time being.

However, the sight of her, a kind, sweet, loyal girl, spending the beginning of her eternal rest at the bottom of a dumpster caked with dried juices from bags and remnants of school lunches long past, a chord was struck with Jeremy so hard that it felt like someone had punched him in the gut with all the force in the world. He felt like a tiny voice was screeching at him to do anything but stand there and stare at Brooke, it felt like whatever was left of his conscious was grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him violently, and, above all, he felt sick to his stomach. It was all too much, and one moment he was staring numbly at the results of a heinous act he had committed, whereas the next he had taken off to a slightly isolated patch of grass and retched.

The squip stood aside as its host evacuated the contents of his stomach and sobbed, the boy rife with nothing but guilt and what felt like unearned mourning. It was having enough of this entire situation and Jeremy's pathetic display of cowardice, and so when he finally finished his business and stood back up with tear-filled eyes, it apathetically delivered the next instructions.

"Richard is very nearby, just around the corner and paying absolutely no mind to you and your... exploits. I'm detecting that his squip is off, indicating that he isn't expecting your arrival and will be less adept at fighting back. You have the cup, correct?"