Morbid Fascination

Ytterligare en som är skriven på engelska, sorry. xD;

Om den här novellen;
Titel; Dealing with Robin
Antal ord; 2,243
Åldersgräns; 15+
Varningar; Blod, våld och död - IGEN.  
Annat; Den här skrevs väl mest för övning. Liknar den förra på ett sätt, men ändå inte. Det framgår inte så bra i början på novellen tyvärr, men huvudpersonen är en KILLE xD;;

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Innehållet i denna novell är helt ur mitt eget huvud. Eventuella likheter med riktiga personer eller händelser är sammanträffanden Använd ej utan min tillåtelse.
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In spite of it all, Robin had always been a good friend.

In fact; to me he was the perfect friend. Sure, he had his quirks, but he was the type that always said the things I needed to hear, that always came up with the right things to do. And sure, he got absolutely furious about the most ridiculous things at times, but he got over it quickly. It didn't really matter, because I was never bored when I spent time with him. It didn't matter that Robin could get really strange at times and that people said things about him. He was still the best friend I ever had.

And I was the best friend he ever had. So he told me, very often. And I had no reason to doubt it, because our worlds always included the other and either of us could imagine it in any other way.

That day in late August, the first day of our second year in High School was the day that marked the beginning of change entering our lives. A change with a name; Gabriel.

Robin had very early expressed a dislike towards Gabriel. Not in words but rather in small gestures, such as frowning whenever he looked at the unfamiliar boy, snarling whenever he heard his voice. I paid no attention to it; I expected him to get over whatever grudge he had soon enough, like he always did.

But he didn't.

"What's the hell is wrong with him anyway", Robin once said as we made our way home through the dark November evening.

"Who?"

"You know, Gabriel."

I looked at Robins face, now interested, hoping to find out more about my friends strange behaviour.

"He just pisses me off somehow, you know? He keeps going on like that, like he's all high and mighty." I raised my eyebrows at this; Gabriel was far from 'high and mighty'. He was a quiet and somewhat shy person who kept to himself most of the time in school.

"He just pisses me off somehow..." Robin repeated, mumbling to himself.

At this point, I can admit that I was starting too get worried. But it didn't matter much - whatever Robin thought of other people and other people thought of him, he was still my friend.

After a while, Robin started to make sure Gabriel was aware of his feelings as well. It started with simple things like calling him names, then went on to making cruel jokes, laughing at him whenever the poor confused boy made a mistake in class. Meanwhile, I was still waiting for this period of Robin's to pass, doing nothing to hinder him.

Then they started to get into fights. Heated arguments during class, all initiated by Robin. At times we would pass Gabriel in the corridor and not too long after that I and other students would have to hold them back to prevent something that might actually turn into a fistfight. Robin made his sentiments obvious to all and by now, they were no longer one-sided.

"Wouldn't it be better if he had never existed?" Robin asked me, emphasizing 'he' in a way that left no doubt on who he was talking about.

"You think?" came my simple reply.

Robin's behaviour was changed even when Gabriel wasn't around as well. Robin laughed less, conversations between him and me didn't flow as easily. He started spending more time alone, turned down invitations from friends. For the first time in the eight years I had known him, I began to feel like I didn't know him. I began to feel alone.

But I never once said this to Robin. I waited with patience for him to get over it, to come back to me.

I waited, doing nothing but trusting him. Because I wanted to and because I had no better friend. Because I knew Robin had no better friend and he needed me to trust him.

One morning, I got to school and heard shouting from the front entrance. When I got there, I could see a group of students gathered around what seemed to be a fight. I knew who were the two participants even before I got there.

"Robin!" I called out. "Robin, stop it!"

Robin's face turned to mine for a moment and then back to Gabriel to duck the blow that was aimed at his head.

"What is going on here?" the voice of our history teacher rung out and everyone turned to see him running towards the scene from the school parking lot. Robin and Gabriel too ceased what they were doing and faced the teacher.  

"It's his fault" Robin stated in a childlike manner, pointing at Gabriel.

"What!" Gabriel replied, incredulous. "You just punched me for no reason!"

"It's his fault!" Robin repeated, ignoring Gabriel. He began to back out of the crowd. "It's HIS fault, for not getting out of my HEAD!"

No one was given the opportunity to reply, as Robin turned around and ran away.

--

Three days passed, three days during which Robin had been absent from school. I had assumed he wanted time alone - he was rarely sick - so I didn't think about stopping by his place. At the fourth day, Gabriel was absent as well. I reluctantly got worried - what if Robin had done something to him? What if they had gotten into another fight?

After school that day, I decided to go to Robins apartment. I texted him about it but received no reply - this didn't worry me, since he rarely replied due in order to save money. Taking the tram out to his neighbourhood, running through the now pouring rain and hurrying up to the fourth floor of the apartment building without giving me an opportunity to think about what I was doing, I didn't feel any doubt until I was standing there, in front of the door with the 'Robin Agervi'-nameplate.

What exactly was I expecting to find in there? If Robin indeed had gone to fight with Gabriel again, he wouldn't be home anyway. And I didn't even have anything to base that suspicion on, other than both of them being absent from school on the same day. I felt ridiculous. But I couldn't bring myself to leave this alone.

I knocked on the door - Robin's doorbell had been broken for ages. He liked it, often told me it made it easier to ignore salesmen and noisy neighbours.

No reply.

I knocked again, harder.

This time, I thought I could hear something from inside - a strange, repeating sound. I felt the door handle and received no resistance. It wasn't locked. I went inside, closing the door behind me.

"Robin?" I called out. "You home?"

I could hear the sound clearer now; something that made me think of footsteps with two different shoes. 'Chuck, schlick, chuck, schlick'. The sounds were wet and the pace was slow. They seemed to come from the living room. I ventured to go deeper into the dark apartment (why are the lights off?, I thought) and found my way into the living room.

I stopped in the doorway and silently stared at the nightmare on display in front of me.

On the floor, a figure was lying in a pool of some liquid, something dark, face down. And next to the figure another one was sitting crouched, one I recognised as my best friend.

I now knew what the sound was.

One of Robins hands rested on his own knee and in the other was a knife, long, wide and most definitely sharp. He was pushing the knife down into the figure below him (chuck) and then pulled it out (schlick), over and over, in twitchy movement like a toy low on battery. My eyes were starting to get used to the dark and I recognised the figure on the floor as a human, lying with the face down. The place Robin was assaulting with the knife was the back, but I could tell both the neck and one of the legs had suffered the same treatment, if not worse looking at how mutilated some areas were.

"Robin?" My voice was weak.

He stopped the movements abruptly and looked up at me.

"Andreas", he replied in a monotonous voice. I suddenly felt like puking; his voice speaking my name had woken me up from the dream-like state I had somehow drifted into and left no doubt on the fact that this was reality.  

That my friend, the person I trusted the most, had indeed done such a horrid thing.

"Robin, is that... shit, you..." I had no control over my words; they just poured out of my mouth. "Gabriel?"

Robin nodded. Somewhere in the back of my mind I wondered how Gabriel had gotten here, into Robin's apartment, but the thought felt dull and distant compared to all the other things that swirled around in my head.

"Fuck, what - what the fuck have you done?" I asked. Robin didn't reply, instead he continued with his earlier occupation and moved the knife again.

Chuck, schlick, chuck, schlick.

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure he's dead." Robin's voice was still as monotone as before.

"Stop that."

"He might not be dead yet."

"Robin..."

"I don't think he's dead yet."

I licked my lips nervously. "Listen Robin, he's dead. He's really dead."

Robin pulled out the knife one last time and looked at me. I searched his eyes, looking for any signs of madness, but found none. Just a peaceful calm.

"Are you sure he's dead?" he asked, with a voice that finally betrayed some emotion, curious.
"I'm sure, very sure." My voice quivered. "Step away from him, Robin."

What should I do?, I thought, nausea hanging over me. Run away? Call the police and let them take him? But this was Robin, his friend, they guy I had spent almost every day with for years, the person I had trusted the most. Could I let them take him? But if I didn't, then what? Should we try and get rid of the body? How did you get bloodstains off the floor anyway?

I was still thinking when I felt someone lean against me and  realized Robin had indeed stepped away from the body as I told him to. I felt his body shiver slightly and heard him giggle.

"He's finally dead, isn't he?" Robin's cheerful voice said. "He's finally DEAD!" More giggles. "We should celebrate this, you know? We really should do something to celebrate this, because he's gone!" The giggles were louder, started to sound more like laughter.

My eyes stared, wide open and dread filled me. He was mad, he had actually gone mad and I was scared of him. My gaze wandered involuntarily towards the knife, still in his hand. He was gripping it hard, making his knuckles go white. Could I take it from him if I tried? I had always been stronger than Robin, but with him being the one holding the knife to begin with, he had the advantage. I wondered what he'd do if I tried to leave now.  

"Andreas?" Robin asked while looking me in the eye, voice suddenly laced with confusion. I realised that my face gave away my current emotions.

"Robin", I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Why did you kill him?"

"What? It's his fault anyway" Robin said as if it was obvious. "He was the one who wouldn't get out of my head."

"What to you mean by that?"

"He wasn't allowed to" he continued. "Wasn't allowed to be there. You're the only one who's allowed to be there, Andreas."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "What? But Robin, you... you killed him!" I glanced towards the dead, lying on the floor not too far from us. Robin followed my gaze and frowned.

"So?" he said. "You're not supposed to care about that. You're not supposed to care about him, dammit!"

At his words, he took a step back from me and made a sudden gestured with his hands. This alarmed me and on an impulse I grabbed his wrist and took the knife from him. He in turn, grabbed my hand with his free arm and tried to twist it, to make me drop the knife. The struggle continued until Robin jerked his arm and the knife moved upwards in a sudden movement. I could feel something tear under the edge of it.

I froze and dropped the knife. Stared as blood flowed from the gash in Robin's throat.

Panic and dread like no other welled up inside me and I attempted to stop the blood with my hands, feeling the frustration grow when it wouldn't work. Robin's knees gave away and I followed him down to the floor, hands still at his throat. He gaped, a gurgling noise escaped his mouth. Whatever he tried to say was lost. He looked into my eyes and I felt my heart break at the swirl of emotions I could find in his.

Holding him close as life poured out of him, I cried.


/Lilo