From the Bottom

His grey lifeless skin surrounded his soulless eyes as they looked at the ceiling above. The suit his body was dressed in did its best to hide the harsh realities his life had written. Luke had never got over what had happened on that day, so long ago. I guess my mind was equipped with a little more strength than his or something. Poor Luke let that thing develop into addiction, and that completely corrupted the one life he had.

              I hadn’t seen Luke for about half a decade until now. Whatever was left of him was on display in the casket, to the portion of people that cared about the guy. My little brother Luke, dead, instead of talking about the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles like he had once done. He didn’t deserve to get so lost inside of his mind. I wish I could’ve flipped some switches in his brain or changed his wiring a little bit.

              After the service ended, I said hi and bye to some of the people that attended. Everyone in the crowd looked so sad; Luke was unmistakably missed by many. As I observed them, I could’ve sworn I had seen someone that looked different than everyone else. My eyes only caught the person for a spit second, but they were looking angrily in my direction. My mind couldn’t remember anything else about the person except that they were boiling with that feeling. They had evaporated from the crowd right after that moment.

              I drove over to my parent’s house once everyone dispersed. They had been at the funeral, but they had left before everyone's speeches were finished. My mother just couldn’t take it; she had lost it and asked my dad to take her back home. Obviously, it hurt her the worst that he was gone; she made that boy from scratch. She had one-on-one months with him unlike any other person alive.

              What’s sad is that she didn’t even know why Luke had gone from loving Leonardo to loving the high. Luke and I vowed to keep what happened a secret for the sake of each other. Gerry Daily, that poor boy, fell into the Saint Johns River one day. It was while the three of us were on one of our childhood escapades. We were having so much fun, but at one point Gerry had slipped at the top of the embankment. As he toppled down, his small little head hit a massive rock.

              I can still see the blood Gerry left on it. I can see his body floating down that river; in a way, he looked like Luke had inside that casket, but without that long gone color. Luke’s face after seeing the fall was unforgettable too; the shock almost tattooed itself on his canvas. I remember him wide eyed saying, “What are we going to do?”

              We didn’t have cell phones like most kids nowadays. We had to run as fast as we could back home for help. No one was around, so we figured that was going to be our best bet too. We hoped those five minutes would be better than just yelling for help. However, once we made it to the Sycamore Street sign, our thoughts fluttered. The future weaved its way into our young developing minds. We were afraid of people blaming the incident on us.

              Luke and I, as badly as we didn’t want to, kept what had happened hidden in our vault of forgotten memories. We acted like we didn’t know what had happened to Gerry when cops came hunting a day or so after. Gerry's parents had no clue who he was with that day too, so we weren't prime suspects. We were stupid kids, but at this point that thing was an unfixable situation. You can't fix something that's broken by breaking more parts.

When I arrived at my parents' house, my dad welcomed me in. I could see an old video of kid Luke on the living room tv screen. Luke was playing with a little beetle in the video. He was gentle, and kind to the miniscule sized bug that must have been terrified of him. My dad paused the video and said, “Your mother is in her room. I think its best we give her some time to herself,” he glanced back over at the screen and looked back at me with tears building in his eyes, “We don't have any dinner made, but you can make something with what we have if you want. Not too sure...”

I stopped him there, “Its fine dad, Ill figure it out,” I felt an itchy urge to go have a look at Luke and I’s childhood room, “hey, you mind if I go to our old room. I know a while back he said you guys kept it the way it was, like a...”

“Like a museum”, he finished the sentence for me, and chuckled, “He always said that about the room. Yea, go for it.”

I began to walk towards the hallway, and my dad pulled me back in, “Hey son?”

“Yeah?”, I replied.

“It's good to see you again, I wish that he could've seen you one last time.” I smiled as he looked at the screen again of Luke and the bug. He pressed the play button, and the camera rocked a little. Suddenly, a younger version of me was on the screen and I stepped on the beetle with all my might.

Luke roared, “Hey!”

I turned my back and went towards our old room in the dark hallway. When I reached its end, I could hear my mother crying to herself in her room. I cupped my ear to the door to eavesdrop on her despair.

“Why did you make him this way God, why God? He was my little baby! He was such a sweet boy!” She whimpered to herself, attempting to speak with her creator.

I backed up and turned from the door which was where I found Luke and I’s once shared entrance to our childhood cavern. I twisted the knob and flipped on the light switch. This was my home long ago. Two dressers separated by name, two toy boxes separated the same way, a bunkbed separated by memory, and a closet separated by heart. There was still the same beige carpet. I now could understand why my parents would get us into trouble for sneaking drinks into our room.

It was like there was a ball of hair clogged in my remembering pipes that held back contexts for nostalgia. The atmosphere seemed to penetrate those pipes like a snake. It swirled that brick wall ball of hair right out of the way. Pop, my head oozed old times. I smiled at all the distant memories. Those days were so much simpler than mine now.

Luke’s dresser name tag looked like it had been through battles. The sticker, which was located on the top drawer, was warping at a couple of its corners. The exposed sticky sides of it collected dust, and there was one slight tear right before the letter e. Mine on the other hand was perfect. It wasn't like it was new, but it looked like it had held itself together to the best of its ability.

I climbed the bed ladder to the top bunk, which is where I used to sleep. I wanted to feel the history so I decided I would lay on it. It was kind of silly that I wanted to do it right now, but I felt like it was sillier that I had stayed on this damn thing until I was eighteen. Sharing a bed and room with my brother was part of the reason I said, “fuck it”, and just tried LA. I’m glad I did it too, I was ready to start my own story.

As I laid on the Incredible Hulk blanket, I took in the rooms air with ease. “Oh Luke, I miss you buddy, wish you could be here”, I said quietly, aloud.

Then I heard it. It sent shivers down my neck. At first, I thought I just imagined the voice in my head. I looked down at the open room from the top bunk with a concerned look on my face. Then I heard it again, “He could've been here right now Andrew.”

My eyes were wide open, and I felt tingling on my face. I then answered a question that wasn't asked after I jumped, “who the fuck was that?”

“Well, I’m who could’ve been, but never was”, the voice said.

“Where are you?”, I asked with a shaky voice, not quite sure if I really wanted to know.

“I'm floating at the bottom. Underneath where the druggy dreamed”, the voice dropped a tad bit lower, “I’m under the bed.”

“Who are you?” I asked.

I couldn’t see it from my angle obviously, but I pictured its half-circled teeth gleaming before it went on, “I’m the boy at the bottom. Hehe. Why don’t you come down here and see for yourself. I know you love looking.” The teeth I envisioned in my mind were rotted, with spotted growths of moss. Such a cheerful voice it had for its physical profile in my mind.

I was scared shitless, but I felt some sort of obligation. I felt like I needed to communicate with this rancid unknown thing, and there was no way around it. There was an obvious exit, but I was supposed to speak with it. That’s what it was too, it was like this upcoming conversation had been ready for me. Waiting until the right time for this specific moment.

I made my way down the ladder carefully; I paid full attention to what was under my feet. Once I made my landing on the carpet, I backed my way to the wall farthest from the bed. I didn’t see anything but pitch-black darkness underneath. I didn’t understand how the rest of the room could be so visible with light, but under the bed had no clear view of anything at all. I saw it as an abyss; a rectangular tunnel that led to the unknown.

Two spider hands crawled swiftly out, and they revealed arms and a head into the light. Short and hairy fingers that looked like tarantula legs did the work. It was a dirty little monster, no insect. It had one antenna where a person’s ear should usually be. Just on that side though; on the other side of its head, there was a regular ear. It had an eye that matched where it crawled out from on the antenna side of its face, and its other eye was a beautiful baby blue human eye.

It was part human, and I recognized part who it was exactly. I didn't put the answer together when I saw them earlier today. Then again, I wasn't sure if this was exactly how they had looked after the funeral, but it was them there. “Now you see it”, it said; my brain’s assumptions were correct about the inside of its mouth, “say it.”

“Gerry…”, My eyebrows were already a mile high before the name exited my mouth.

Gerry from the bottom began to sing, “Gerry Daily fell in a river, all by himself? Or was it a sinner? The sinner was bright, ev-er-y night, but his brother was eaten slowly… bite by bite!”

“No, no...” I couldn’t go on because I was interrupted by more lyrics.

“He left him for death”, it stopped caring about rhyming, “his father got sad, his mother got extremely depressed, and he wound up in a room, as himself. A murderer!”.

“I… I didn’t…”, yet again I was cut off.

“You double dog did. Don’t do the damn lying anymore, Andrew. Isn’t it exhausting? I mean, it’s been nine years”, It was still smiling with the sickening grin through the conversation.

I looked at the bedroom door, and I could see beetles mingling all over the face of it. Beetles identical to the one I crushed in the old video my dad was watching just outside in the living room. He noticed my line of sight, “Those things were crawling all over me when they found me. Me, oh my! What a sight! I bet you would’ve stomped all over ‘em”, said the Gerry from the bottom.

“What do you want from me?”, I angrily asked the grotesque Gerry from the bottom.

“I want you to say that you pushed me, and that you told Luke to shut up about the whole thing. You told him that you would push him into the John too! And you almost did too, Andrew! He died in the fucking bathroom! What a joke!”, the Gerry from the bottom commanded me, hysterically laughing at his own cruel humor.

“But I didn’t p..”, Gerry from the bottom repeated his cycle. The singing began flowing once more.

“Gerry Daily fell in a river, all by himself. Or was it a..”, the Gerry from the bottom was road blocked as I cut it off this time.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I did!”, raw emotion exploded from the inside of my lost and found.

“Did…?”, the Gerry from the bottom was taking nothing less than what it was expecting.

“I pushed you, Gerry! You always got on my nerve, and I snapped that day!” Tears rushed down my face as I choked up during my reply.

“Because I stood up to the stomper. Because I questioned you! I didn’t think it was smart to try catching squirmy fish with our hands in the current”. Its face had become serious like it had been waiting to say that for its whole entire life.

I was speechless after it had said what it said. It made a fist with its left spider in front of its mix-matched eyes. It looked at the fist in curiosity, and it began to count aloud, “One”, one of the fists legs went up, “two… one more and you could be considered a serial killer my dear Andrew.

Gerry from the bottom continued as it noticed I had nothing in the tank, “Luke always dreamed about me. He actually had a soul inside of his drug-induced suit. One day I came to see him just like now with you. It set him over the edge! But he was already on the edge because of you!”

“Mother fucker!”, I angrily replied through the cheek streams.

“Oh yes, you will! Your mother will be lucky number three!”, it paused for a moment, “How many until you fix this Andrew?”

“What do I need to do?”, I asked as the knuckle behind my index wiped my leaks.

Gerry crawled backwards into the bottom. The darkness was the only thing under the bed. I waited for a second and thought about that day while I was alone. I thought about the force I used on Gerry Daily’s back, while he observed the river’s dangerous current. Luke’s tears that streamed like how mine were right now, as something the color of ketchup splatted on that rock.

I didn’t even notice the Gerry from the bottom was back because of how deep I was in thought. I focused back in on it, I noticed it was holding something out for me in its hand. It was, what looked like, my dad’s old Kimber .38 revolver. Only way I knew of it was because I snuck into his room when I was a teenager and stumbled across the little thing. It was little too, but it could cause big damage like a massive rock.

“This is your solution? Seriously?”, I was disappointed in its expectations.

“It’s either you follow through”, it popped the cylinder out and spun it like a cowboy. Once it clicked back in, he finished, “or end it.”

I thought hard about my given options. I reached for the gun and felt the bristles on its finger legs as I grabbed the Kimber. I love control, knowing I’m in control brings the real me out. I’ve always known, but I guess Gerry finally made me honest with myself. Gerry from the bottom made me do it.

I became a serial killer right after that. I killed myself; the self that hid out in LA for five years hoping to be an actor for nothing. That self was not truly me, and I finally killed it to be my real self. I picked up the phone and dialed three digits.

“Hello, I just murdered both of my parents”, I said to the other side of the phone.

I felt free. This is what I was supposed to do. This was the meaning of life I was dumbly searching for in LA. I didn’t care about Luke; I never did. I only came back because of a feeling. There was this thing in the air that made me feel obligated to find it. To find out what it was, or what it wanted. Everything was revealed to me from the bottom.

The operator asked immediately, “where is your location?”