SONG:
You Found Me - The Fray
Episode Forty-Two:
A SHEEP IN WOLF'S CLOTHING
≫ ≫ ≫
L A W R E N C E ' S P O V :
Maya is long gone.
I never said hello.
I told myself to stay the fuck away from her, and save myself the torture of torturing another human being again. You'd think it'd be easy being me, always the one hurting, yet never hurt, but sometimes the guilt brings me to paralyzing, life ending, soul draining, pain.
And then I tell myself that the pain I feel is nothing in comparison to that in which I've inflicted.
Then I feel guilty for feeling that pain, for feeling like there was ever the possibility that I wasn't entirely deserving of it. That emotion only pries me apart further, holds me hostage to the beast that is – myself.
I'm a sheep in wolf's clothing. I walk around so large and in charge, but behind it all I cower in the depths of my own capabilities, terrified that I might find myself another victim through a twisted means of self manipulation.
It's quite fascinating, when you're not the one suffering.
The examples are unending – Maya, Fawn, Carmella, every girl I've dated.
Every single time I went into things thinking they were different.
They could make me better, they could make me different, they could change me.
That I could be good. For them.
Fawn, more than any of them. She came in like a storm, her quiet admiration drowning me.
I had never been – admired, and I thought that it was wonderful to have found someone who actually deemed me worthy of something more than human decency, something more than scolding.
See, the day I met Fawn was the day my life began going to shit back home.
The day Fawn moved to town, was the day that Dad first hit Mom.
Take it a sign from above that she was meant to save me, she was meant for me, she was everything I needed to become whole again. To not be some result of a broken family, and abusive relationship.
But, she wasn't.
She was a fawn. Nimble, new to life, unsuspecting and innocent, and in a dark forest full of deadly creatures out to tear her to shreds. She had walked, right into my trap, and there was no escaping it.
The problem in all of it lies in the fact that I couldn't remember setting the snare.
I just remember her being mine, an admirer of my own. An angel sent from above to help me through the chaos that was my personal life. I didn't know I was going to hurt her later.
I didn't know a kiss on the neck was a stab to her side, and a rooftop conversation was equivalent to homicide.
I didn't know.
But now I do.
And I feel guilty again. But more than that, I feel guilty for feeling guilty.
After all, I'm a sheep in wolf's clothing.
I act like a wolf, and I should expect to be treated like one.
I should do my best, to not trick myself into believing that I can be better, when the only place it's gotten me, is here. A lone sports car sitting outside of a crappy gas station at four in the afternoon.
The radio doesn't even work.
It's the only reason I can hear footsteps approaching. I know what's coming, I'm surprised someone hasn't turned me in for loitering already given its been a good eight hours now.
"I can't believe this motherfucker," comes the voice, that I quickly realize, isn't that of a cop.
Turning around in my seat I see them, and have to blink a few times as I accept that fact that they do not look nearly as unfriendly as they usually do. They do not look even remotely unfriendly.
At the same time they do not look like friends.
I know what friends look like.
She looks better than usual. Her hair is tied up in a ponytail displaying prominent cheekbones and clear tan skin. She's wearing what she normally wears, nothing special, nothing different, I realize after that, that nothing is really different about her at all.
She just looks better.
"Get out of the car, you prick. I want a word!" Comes the call from the imposing boy next to her. His eyes are dark, his hair, a mess, his hands, in fists, and he stands with a purpose. He stands to be by her side.
I stand – alone.
I slowly open up the door to my Corvette and approach the two.
I stand in front of them, and I suddenly feel like an even bigger scum of society than before when she starts crying. Tears poor down her face and I realize it's all my fault. That this is my doing.
I've done it again.
His arms drape around her shoulders, as she attempts to compose herself. He looks at me, with a glare more murderous than my own a few days ago, eyes more focused like a predator than mine have ever been.
I've hurt the person he loves – I realize.
I realize that no apology will ever make this right. So I stand silent, waiting for the beating to be given.
My father always told me that whenever I felt I'd done something wrong. To stand and wait for punishment, because the world would let you know if you were deserving in one way or another.
Typically it came in a curse from him, or a slammed door in my face, or a stare of disappointment from the man who'd made up half of me. So now I wait to see if I am wrong once more.
I am.
His fist is cold. Icy, even. Since its happening in slow motion I can nearly hear the sound of my jaw cracking, before he goes in again.
And again.
And again.
Until my eye is black, and my lip is cracked and all you can see on the guy's knuckles is red.
I look up to meet his eye, once the punishment has been served and realize it's not over.
"You are filth."
Somehow that blow was the hardest to take.
Maybe because it didn't come from him.
"I hope you realize what a monster you are!" She shouts at me, her hands in the air, "You! You are everything wrong with our society! You prey on young, and innocent girls like me! And take satisfaction in watching it all happen! In leading me on, and making me believe you were a good person!"
She looks at me again, this time a single tear stuck on her cheekbone.
"How do you sleep at night?"
As though she realizes I'm not going to talk she begins to laugh wryly.
"Just because you think it's funny to see me like this, because of you," she insinuates like I don't already know, "Doesn't mean you get to sit here and make a mockery of this confrontation. At least say something!"
I say nothing.
"Don't make me hurt you myself," she spits, "I'm more capable now than I ever was then. I've learned things from being around you."
It hurts me to think she views me as some kind of lesson. Some stepping stone that she has to learn something from to grow as a person, to cross the river, when all she has to do was learn to swim.
"Don't pretend like you feel any guilt for this. You don't even know the half of it! So quit looking at me like that!" Elliott pulls her back, but she pulls forward. She's not standing down until I give her the satisfaction of seeing me lose. Seeing the bad guy behind bars, eaten by wild animals, or bleeding on the floor.
"I'm gonna go," I croak.
"Who do you think you are!" She yells angrily, charging at me to where our eyes are inches apart and her breathing is mixed with mine, and she has my collar in her hands because she wants nothing more than to see the shame in my eyes, up close and personal. She wants nothing more than to put an end to me, once and for all.
"You deserve hell." She whispers, and she's never been closer than she is right now, saying this.
"Don't you realize?" I ask softly, "This is my hell."
Her demeanor breaks, and she releases her hold on me, slowly walking backwards to Elliott. She shakes her head, and observes the state of me. What's left of me, that is. There isn't much to show for.
"As I said before, I think I'm going to go."
"No! You can't – you can't leave! I'm not d-done with you!" She calls out, and I raise my eyebrows because I haven't made a move yet. She stares me down, "Where the hell are you going to go?"
"Wherever I'm wanted," I pause, "Heaven was my first pick, but as you said before I'm expecting a nice duplex in the pit of fire downstairs. It won't be much, but it's not getting any better."
"Lawrence," Fawn says slowly, "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that I'm not going to be a problem for much longer," I look at her, and for the first time in my life, I shed a tear in front of someone, "Before I go, I want to say that I'm sorry."
"Lawrence, stop, this wasn't how this was supposed to go!" She yells, screams actually.
"I'm sorry for everything I've done to everyone around me," I choke, "I never meant to hurt anyone, but I did, and there is no way for me to make it up to you, to anyone. I'm a coward, and I'm terrified of what happens next, but I don't belong here Fawn. You know this more than anyone. All I'm good for, is destroying beautiful things."
She takes a step forward, and for a minute it's August 19th at Bellview Middle School and she's the new girl and she's all I can see, and all I want to see, she'll be the last thing I see –
"I'm sorry I fell for you," I pause, "I'm sorry for making you listen to this, I should've said nothing and let you live your life not having to hold this burden. Please don't, hold this burden, it's not yours."
I don't say a word more, I just wait for my punishment to come.
It does. It always does.
This time, there won't be any means of recovery.
In the end, the big bad wolf always gets burned.
≫ ≫ ≫
The son of multi-millionaire Mr. and Mrs. Briggs found dead at the bottom of a river. Detectives say that their son had gone missing days before, and the parents quickly put together a search upon the realization. We have testimony from a few teenagers who reported this case, that he had shown signs of suicidal behavior upon meeting, but we cannot be sure. The seventeen year old was known for being charged with murder just days before his body was found, although its relation to the death is unknown.
LAWRENCE BRIGGS ~ February 18th, 1999 - December 4th 2016