Mocking Voice

By: Brenli

Julie stared in anger at the laughing group of boys. Yes, boys, that’s all they were. Immature little boys with no respect. Especially Tucker.

Tucker held out a bag, making sure the other boys kept the contents a secret amongst themselves. But Julie knew that what was inside would be spread throughout the school. And she would be labeled ‘slut’.

She watched as the boys sniggered and gawked at the contents of the bag, trying to decide when was best to approach them. Wait, wait, she told herself. Wait… Okay. Now.

Julie marched up to them and snatched the bag away, feigning shock and despair. “Tucker! How could you-”

“Julie??” Tucker exclaimed. “Give back-”

“NO!” She said, and she threw the bag to the ground. She skillfully turned her fake shock into rage. “So this is what you do after sleeping with me?? Show them my underwear????”

“Julie-”

“Tonight, Tucker. At the bridge. We need to talk.” Julie then turned and walked away.

xXxXxXx

Such had been the day earlier. Julie stood at the bridge now, arms crossed, anger smeared over her face. Anger not so much towards Tucker as to herself.

‘You wanted it. You loved him.’

“For two seconds.”

‘It’s your fault you’re so fickle.’

“Shut up! I’m going to fix things.”

‘How so? When you are done you will be caught.’

“And then things will be okay.”

‘In prison things will be okay?’

“Not in prison.”

“Talking to yourself?” A person asked.

Julie spun. “Tucker.”

“Julie… Look, the other night-”

“It was a hook up. Simple lust and the next day it was going to be forgotten.”

“Yeah.” Tucker agreed.

‘He thinks he can get away with this!’ Julie thought, not letting her surprise at his true stupidity show through. “But you didn’t forget and you told people. And those people are going to tell others and I’ll be labeled a slut and you a king.”

Tucker smiled. “I kinda like the idea of being called a king.”

“Of course you would.” Julie spat out. She quickly gained composure. “So was it good for you?”

Tucker blinked. “Julie…”

“Was it?”

“… Yes.”

“Wonderful. I was hoping it would be. Come here.” Julie said seductively. And Tucker, fool as he was, came closer. “Closer.” She told him, grasping his chin and pulling his face down to hers until they locked in a kiss. Wait, wait, she told herself. Wait… Okay. Now.

Tucker’s eyes, closed in the heat of his immature lust, did not see the flashing at her hip. He’d had every opportunity to see it. But he did not. The flashing light moved up and forward, then disappeared in Tucker’s shirt. Red began to pour out of Tucker’s belly and stained his shirt. He pulled back, eyes wide with shock.

Julie pulled the blade from his belly and slashed it over his throat. Tucker’s hands rose to his neck. Julie watched him fall to the ground, continued to stare at his body until it ceased all motion and sound.

‘The deed is done.’

“Yes.”

‘You will not go to jail?’

“No.”

The voice, forever in her mind, was silent. Julie began to snicker to herself. She crossed her arms over her chest, accidentally brushing the sharp blade of her knife over her arm and spilling a little blood. Julie only began to laugh louder. “Yes… I will go to the nuthouse. I need help, don’t you think?” She asked the voice. She stopped laughing when the voice didn’t answer. “Don’t you think?” She tried again. The voice refused to answer.

Julie grew solemn. “I see. You tempt me and when I’m done you leave. Fine then.” She muttered somberly. She kicked Tucker over the edge of the bridge, watched him fall into the river below. She tossed her knife down with him.

As Julie turned to leave, a tear, stained black with her mascara, tumbled down her face. It was the only tear shed that night, and whether it was for the voice’s trickery or herself or for poor idiotic Tucker, no one knew.

Julie Alice Smith was found guilty for the death of Tucker Ray Harding on November 21, 1998. She pleaded insanity. Smith was diagnosed with schizophrenia and was put into the Warren Psychiatric Hospital for The Criminally Insane.