Love in the Time of Madness

By Matthew Lunney

Love in the Time of Madness is a love story about a woman who has been raped. Her Boyfriend and and two other firends track down the man involved and kill him. The characters due to over consumption of drugs and the acts they have commited begin to loose control of reality.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 30, 2020
• ISBN: 9781728373881

Matthew Lunney

Matt Lunney lives in New Hampshire and is a self employed business owner who has written Novels, Short Stories and Poetry.

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© 2020 Matthew Lunney. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 09/29/2020

ISBN: 978-1-7283-7389-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-7283-7388-1 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

About the Author

Chapter 1

S hut the hell up.

What, I said.

You heard me, Ryan said covering his head with his pillow.

I didn’t say anything, I said trying not to laugh.

Ryan wakes up painfully and slowly, trying to not let his body know he’s conscious. This has become a ritual for the six foot two inch very well built man. He has short well maintained dark brown hair. He’s always immaculately dressed. He looks like some sort of early twentieth century British professor. I assumed he kept his physical appearance so neat and proper because he wanted to hide the turmoil and insanity that was in his mind. He is considered by most women as attractive until that is he opens his mouth. He goes to bed in the complete opposite form. He is always relaxed and happy when he falls asleep or at least relaxed. Every morning that Rye wakes up he tells me that last night was the most wildest and obnoxious evening in his entire college life. Considering the fact that he is a junior outdoing the night before is quite a compliment on the party’s entertainment, never mind the amazing drugs and alcohol. He is always in search of the next party he often plans when he will be going to his next party during a party he’s already at. Rye as he is known to his friends and Ryan the British bastard as he is called by his enemies. Yes, a twenty one year old can have true enemies. Rye is the only guy I know who is so rich he has never even driven a car for himself. He’s got a chauffeur to do that unnecessary work. He didn’t bring the chauffeur to America with him he says he is trying to get away from the rich boy world. Of course he will only do this if he can take the money with him. He is so conceited and racist and thoroughly believes that unless you are a white person of English or good Irish and Italian descent you are no good. His definition of good Irish are those that appreciate the British rule and don’t get drunk and embarrass their families every day. Rye is the ultimate hypocrite he gets so drunk every night that he passes out. Once me and my loving girlfriend Avy had to rush him to the hospital for alcohol poisoning.

You might not be able to understand why a person so rich and who doesn’t care about anything. Especially himself is hated by those that I feel just don’t understand him. He is a very aggressive and cocky guy and if you are not prepared for his often vulgar language you will definitely be shocked. Simple conversations about something as arbitrary as sports cannot even be discussed without him swearing. It hasn’t been easy becoming his friend but now that I am I’m glad I had succeeded in breaking down his wall. I have found a buddy who would do anything I asked to do for me and not even ask why. At the time I didn’t realize the importance of such a friendship. Later I learned the value of having a friend like that on your side. When your back is up against the wall, it’s good to have some next to you. Someone to help you fight your way out of the corner.

My parents have always said to me that You are who you hang out with. I disagree the people you hang with are not who you are or what you want to be. They are simply just friends who you get along with. In which there is a mutual respect and understanding for each others differences.

By our junior year we had become great friends so we decided to be roommates. The rules were simple he doesn’t tell any Irish jokes and I don’t dress up like the devil and piss on him after he blacks out from too many acid hits. Yes that actually happened but I had to do it. He was becoming a huge jerk. He would take my expensive paint and paint our walls full of naked women. By the way I like to paint abstract and impressionist paintings. I didn’t mind because I like looking at naked women even when they are poorly drawn. My girlfriend and any other female that came by didn’t feel the same way. I asked him to stop doing it of course I made the mistake of doing that when he was drunk. He told me in his own way that he didn’t think that was a good idea. I left after a minor argument and when I came back he had painted dicks between their legs. He was crawling along the floor and saying incoherent things. I had never seen him take acid before but I had seen others. So I knew the signs and sense Halloween was the weekend before I still had my costume. I put on my devils outfit and turned the lights off and lit some red candles. Which were usually used to hide pot smoke then after everything was all set I peed on him.

After running around the room, freaking out and swearing at the top of his lungs for about twenty minutes. He calmed down and crawling into a corner kept saying Dylan get the umbrella you won’t believe it but the devil is pissing on me. He had no idea what was going on. The next morning he woke up and after doing his morning ritual on his way to the shower he stopped and came out into our room.

He smelled himself again and said Hey why do I smell like piss what happened last night.

I said I don’t know maybe you should be more careful who you hang out with.

He gave me a look like he thought I was somehow responsible. That night after returning from the library the walls were painted white. He never did any sort of painting again he even dropped out of a painting class he had joined. I don’t think he cared about painting that much any ways he only went to the class to see the naked models.

I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself I do that because I am usually too busy thinking about my paintings and poetry. I am an art major at the University of New Hampshire and I spend all day either working or thinking about my work. This really pisses off Avy she says I’m never with her I live amongst the words and pictures of dead artists. She sometimes gets really deep like that. I just tell her Yes dear so she will drop the subject. I think she gets all these ideas from her friend Satherine or as everyone calls her Saty. She is the type of woman who reads every woman’s magazine there is. So by the time she finishes with those months editions, the next ones come out. She has this little annoying habit of saying men are evil and should all be castrated at birth. Besides that she’s a pretty nice chick. I don’t think she likes me to much I think she only puts up with me because I’m Avy’s boyfriend.

When I see her I always say Hey Chickita just to mess with her. I think she likes it because it gives her more reasons to hate men. Avy and she have been best friends since they were five years old. They met in Kindergarten in Moultonboro, New Hampshire where they are from and their families still live. I am From Meredith it is just across the lake it’s a good town where people work hard and make a decent living. There are a lot of Italian and Irish people there. My parents came over to America from Ireland when I was five years old. My accent has slowly faded it is still there but sometimes you can hardly notice it. My Dad got a job at an Italian restaurant as a cook then going to school and working hard eventually became a powerful attorney. My mom worked at a music store until my Father got rich then she became a socialite. Basically she threw parties and spread gossip with the other women. Who wore so much make up it they looked like a Van Gogh portrait. Money changed my parents and I despised them for it.

I spent most of my early childhood eating chicken parmesan subs and then going to listen to music at moms’ store. I called it moms store but it was really owned by Tom Fitz the name of the place was Manny’s Music. Tom Fitz pretty much owned everything in Meredith and half of Moultonboro. He was one of those rare cool rich guys he had all the fast cars. He sponsored a bunch of kid sports teams and even built a free ice skating rink for the town.

Wait a minute I did it again I forgot to tell you my name. My name is Dylan Mahr and I attend U.N.H. with Avy, Satherine and Rye and we are all juniors. I mentioned already I study art. Avy is studying to be a nurse. Satherine is a political science major and probably will become the first female president. Ryan is from England on an exchange program and studies (that is when he decides to go to class) Medicine. He chose medicine because he thinks it impresses women when he tells them he is going to be a doctor.

Avy and Saty are also roommates and talk about everything with each other. This isn’t exactly a good thing as far as I am concerned. I remember the day I found out Avy had told Saty that we didn’t have sex the first couple of years we were together because I didn’t believe in premarital sex. This by the way has nothing to do with any religious rules. I am not religious and do not for the slightest moment think there is a God. You see all my feelings are based on my own experiences and what I have studied in books. I know that might seem weird but to me it’s normal. Avy thinks I am the craziest guy she has ever known. I was so embarrassed when I found out she told her that I vowed to never trust Avy with anything important again. I already had a problem which was more like a complex about not trusting people especially women. So needless to say this betrayal didn’t help.

The only person in the world I trusted was my father and I still kept him like everyone else in my life at a distance. I never let anyone get too close so as to be able to know what I was really thinking. This hurt me more than it helped, but it did make me strong and it was the only way I knew how to live. Being shy is not a good technique in getting girlfriends. So my handicap you might call it of not being able to express my feelings really canceled out all hope in getting a woman to notice me. Never mind somehow convincing a girl that I’m a nice guy and that she should be with me and not the cool quarterback. I was sort of an outcast in high school. It’s not easy becoming a cool person when you don’t like doing what the others considered cool. The one thing about people who are popular in high school is they are all superficial. They all want to be loved and admired so much that they are willing to become any one you want them to be just as long as you think there cool.

The kids who are quiet and avoid people because they are sick of all the bullshit end up in two ways. One, they express their individuality in an artistic or business sort of style and their ideas get considered genius. The other alternative is they become so depressed and disturbed that instead of controlling their minds and exposing the hidden genius they decide to blow their brains out with a magnum 38. Also it has been known to happen frequently that both of these roads intertwine. The person shows his genius and gets misunderstood, or is appreciated and yet still can’t find peace and kills himself. I hope I’m not being too dramatic but I read so much poetry and philosophy that I sometimes forget to return to the real world.

High school sucked and college was only a little better. Everything you are taught is based on an opinion of events. These opinions survive and are studied if only the old men who make the rules and define history deem the ideas safe. You see only the winners get to right the history books. So how do you know if what you read is the truth? Even in my art classes where the motto a plaque hung on the front door says Be unlike them all if you do not resemble Picasso, Matisse or Renoir your work is not any good. I would like to know who decides what is good and what isn’t and why we must value everything we know and understand on information and events that have already occurred. Why can’t we build on what has not been discovered yet. Why can’t we expand on what has not even been expressed. This is some of the philosophical stuff I like to throw at my teachers it makes them dislike me but it is a hell of a lot of fun. My motto is Never accept what is not proven. So when your teacher tells you blue is a better color than green and the person telling you says that you have to agree with him because it has always been this way. Tell him to bugga off, I like bugga off. Ryan says it all the time when I try to convince him that he is a moron. Enough with school crap for now there will be plenty of time in the future to play with your mind. Oh yeah as I told you I am from Ireland so that is of course why I told Rye he can’t tell Irish jokes. Sorry my mind works in a constant mode of random access without much public access.

Saty is a pretty black woman from Elon, North Carolina originally. She stands about five foot ten and likes to walk on her toes and enjoys looking down at men. I think it bothers her that I am a little taller than her. I bet she would love to be able to look down at me. Her parents moved to New Hampshire because her father got transferred there. She was only five when she arrived and luckily on her first day of school she met Avy. Like I said before they have been best friends ever since. Saty’s father works for the Margate Hotel chain he is the executive manager of the entire New England organization. Tom that’s his name has been working for them for the past twenty years. He says that the hotel work sucks and so do the people that go there. The only reason he stays is because he has been there so long the pay and respect is incredibly good. It seems like every three or four years lately he has moved up another notch in the corporate ladder. Saty admires her father for working there to support the family but feels sorry for him that he is unhappy. She always talks about how hard her father works and how much he gives to his family. You know sacrificing himself for the good of the family kind of crap.

Her Mom Samantha is a painter for hallmark cards and in six months will have her first art show of all her work in New York. She’s a cubist painter and is very good. She’s the person that does all the art on the hallmark cards you know the stuff behind the words. Even though Saty loves her family she has grown so extremely independent that she has drifted away from them. She rarely goes home for the holidays. It seems as though she tries to schedule things to do at school so she can say she’s busy and won’t be able to come home. Her favorite line is Sorry, I wish I could maybe next time. Don’t get me wrong she is a hard worker and is a member of every academic club/organization in the University. She has the highest G.P.A out of all of us. I make fun of her and mess with her a lot but I have a lot of respect for Saty and admire her strength.

Yes I am technically by all grading standards not that smart. Except however for my SATs which I got a thirteen sixty. Maybe it’s because my dad said if I got higher than a twelve hundred he would buy me a new Harley Fatboy. Considering my grades in high school it was a safe bet except no one knew how little effort I put into school work. I love driving my Harley it makes me feel free. I rarely went to class and when I did I just slept. What I am trying to say is a G.P.A. is not a measurement of how smart you are just how much effort you put into it. Also a SAT is a weak trivial test that just shows you have memorized everything the teachers have droned into your sad little minds. It has nothing to do with your intelligence. Anyone can memorize a famous quote and when the time comes that it can be used in the conversation people think he is smart. I hope that is enough for some people because I would rather know who I was. Than be basing my opinions on what others say. Intelligence doesn’t come from copying or memorizing a piece of information. True genius is born from the ability to create and understand all knowledge for what it really is. Knowledge is just a control of thoughts that are delivered randomly. It is the genius job to decide which is necessary and with his imagination create something beautiful. In simpler words an artist can make something beautiful but only a genius can create beauty.

Well, I have filled you in on Ryan and Saty now it’s time to talk about the most important person in my life. Avy she is the woman who puts the Wo, into woman. She is about five foot seven and has a perfect body. She is not one of those skinny model types that I honestly do not find attractive. When I hold a woman I want to have a woman in my arms not a bag of bones. She is easily the most beautiful woman who has ever lived. I am not just saying this because I am madly in love with her but it happens to be the truth. She is from Moultonboro like I said but I didn’t mention yet what part of town. Her mother is a bus driver and her father is a mechanic at the Irving gas station in the middle of town. They barely make enough money to buy her books and clothes never mind a college education. Fortunately Avy is the most compassionate and amazing woman in town. She never really did well on tests but homework and any other assignment that required effort she excelled in. She has trouble focusing when she takes tests she has attention deficit problems. I think that is what it’s called I forget the exact scientific name basically she is smart but has a difficult time being interested enough to show it. I don’t know why but somehow it slowly went away I think it started getting better the day I met Avy. She was also getting better until her older brother died of a drug overdose at a college party at Plymouth State. Plymouth State College is a small college but is well known for being the biggest party school in the country.

After losing her brother who was very close to her she started to withdraw again. Growing up Avy and her brother were always alone because their parents had to work so much just to be able to survive. They relied on each other for support and love. Her brother dying at college was devastating it made her parents worry more than ever about her. They were scared to the point that her father had to often wake her mom up in the middle of the night to stop her from shaking and sweating. Avy’s father started working seventy hours a week just to make sure Avy would never have to have the same type of life. In less than a year at the shop his new schedule gave him a heart attack. He survived and is doing well but gets tired easily. He is unable to work more than forty hours a week now. It is a cruel fact of life for the majority of hard working men. You work your whole life to support your family. Then after they have moved on to start their own lives and you are finally able to relax you will probably die before your first day of retirement.

Moultonboro is a very small town but its beauty is very large. It has sweeping mountains of granite all covered with thick tall trees and divided by clean lakes and rivers. The nature and wildlife make it an area of the country unlike any other. Moultonboro likes to think of itself as a very hippie artistic town so it holds a lot of contests to prove it. The town held a contest in Avy’s senior year. It was a couple of months after her father got out of the hospital and had come home to regain his health. The town organized a sort of art contest and who ever won would get ten thousand a year for four years to pay for their college tuition. The University of New Hampshire’s tuition is a little less than ten thousand so the money would be enough to pay for the school, books and food for the year. Avy was so happy that she could win she had trouble sleeping for weeks before the day of the contest. There was only one problem and it was a big one. She had no artistic talent what so ever. She thought Pablo Picasso was a gangster in a Martin Scorsese movie. So when it came time to pass in her painting the whole town had shown up to put in an entry. There ended up being around three hundred paintings ranging from little kids doodles in a coloring book to the town sheriff with a water color of his favorite animals. That day I went over to Avy’s house and talked her in to letting me drop the picture off for her. You see she had been so worried and nervous about the prize that she hadn’t done any of her school work and had fallen about a week and a half behind in almost every subject. So she stayed home that day to catch up. I took the painting she had done which was of her dog sitting on the hood of her dads old Chevrolet truck. No one in my town buys Fords. You know the saying Fix or repair daily. Well around here because the back roads are so long and vacant that we have derived a new and improved saying for those pieces of crap. Found on road dead is what we prefer to call them. Any ways I switched her ugly painting with the one I did. I had been working on it every day since the contest was announced. I had spent a total of four weeks on it and it was my best work ever. The picture was of me and Avy walking away from the Old Country store. I just signed her name passed it in and took her painting back to my house and hid it in my closet under my saxophone which I never play anymore. You know one of those things as a kid you have to have then about a year or two later. You can’t remember why the hell you wanted to play the stupid instrument in the first place.

Two days later the winner was written in big black bold letters on the cover of the Moultonboro Newspaper. Also there was a photograph of the painting right under the announcement. Avy was so happy she won she didn’t even look at the picture. It wasn’t until she and I visited it when it was to be hanged in the town hall that she realized what had happened. I had never seen as many emotions go so quickly across a persons face before. Upon seeing the painting she was shocked, confused then mad, then happy all at the same time. It took her two days before she wanted to see me again. When that time was up though she said that she loved what I did and knew she would have lost the contest with her painting. Then while crying and smiling with overwhelming joy she said Whether or not you like it Dylan Mahr I am going to love you for the rest of my life.

Of course I had to reply That is fine with me dear. At that time I wasn’t very good at being able to say I love you. When all was said and done Avy was then able to go to U.N.H. with me and Saty.

The summer before our first semester was the happiest time of her life. She had so much anticipation and desire to go and make something of herself. She dreamed of becoming rich and taking her parents away from all the poverty. She wanted to give her parents as much love as they had given to her. She knew though that the only way they could really appreciate it all was through material things. They would love getting hugs and kisses but in this world nice clothes and cars plus a comfortable bed is truly the American dream. She felt as a nurse in a private doctor’s office maybe in some big city like Boston or even New York. That she would get paid enough to support her family plus live comfortably by herself. She told me her dream so many times eventually I started to ignore her. Her immortal dream was to marry me after college move to Boston Massachusetts and be a nurse. I would be a famous painter or poet and we would have so many kids we would run out of names to call them. My paintings would be worth so much one sale could give us enough money to last a year. Together our kids and our parents would be happy for once without any worries. I too felt that it would be a perfect life except for the choice of location I’d rather live in southern Florida like in Key West. Either way as long as we were together and our families were taken care of we knew we would be happy.

It is very simple to describe Avy she is my guardian angel. I like watching her long black hair flow in the air when she walks. Oh yeah plus she’s got a great ass. I know that is a sexist thing to say but I’m trying to be a better man. I love her more than I could ever love myself. She has a big heart, which is her only weakness. She is so willing to care about people that she is often gullible. I wrote a short poem about that which she didn’t care for but it did make her see my point.

The gullible

are those who have believed.

The cynical

are those who have been fooled.

I have often had to pull her away from people because I knew they were just trying to get her to help them. Once a really sick girl, purposely bumped into her, dropping her books. She started crying about how hard her life is and that if she didn’t get an A on her new English paper that her parents would kill her. Avy after hearing this would always offer to help and ironically everybody would accept the help. It was like some kind of con during high school. People knew who she was and what she would be willing to do to help them. It was hard but I had to convince her every single time that these jerks were just using her like a sympathetic tool. That’s enough with telling you about our families let us get back to a normal day in the modern college system in America. Hopefully by what I tell you in the next couple of pages you will understand why we had to do what we did. So by the time the story is over not only will you accept our choices. But you will feel as if you came with us on a drive through freedom away from modern society social prison.

Chapter 2

I guess it all started to roll into a ball of frustration and madness. I had just received my grades for the end of the first semester of my junior year. I got three F’s one for painting class one for poetry class and one for my philosophy class. I knew the reason I failed was not for any lack of imagination or talent but on the contrary. I had too much talent and images flowing around in my mind. I didn’t agree with anything my teachers told me and fought them on every idea no matter how small it might seem to them. You see I am very easy to understand. I am extremely free willed but consider everything of artistic thought to be of the utmost importance. Not just from the theories or thoughts they inspire but what color the stars should be painted. Teachers like for students to admire and respect what they say and take it as law. They all mean well, most teachers started off wanting to create a level of class room rapport to invoke free thought and expression. Somehow though in order to have free minds but complete control of them (which is the contemporary colleges’ ultimate oxymoron) they got lost along their idealistic but superficial road. The grades really didn’t bother me except that because I failed I would have to take them over again. Who they did bother were my parents my father had worked hard to send me to college. They didn’t understand that I was learning a lot not so much school related but mainly about whom I was and what I wanted to become. They like all adults or what society calls the mature ones just cared about the tangible aspects of success.

The reason I think college was good for me was not to see and study different worlds no it was the complete opposite. You have to be away from all you know and love in order to find yourself. When you are surrounded by peace and love you become content and have no desire to find another world. When you are lost, scared and depressed you constantly struggle to land on a safer more harmonious world. Along the way searching and hiking through the awkward woods of life you find yourself. When the time comes that you give up and sit down. The answer is revealed when reflected in the pond of ponder you see your true eyes not the ones that had been blurred by the smog of confusion and lack of imagination. You realize you are not what they want you to be. You have to agree to never weaken your drive to be free from all of the condescending advice your family gives. Through creation and the formation of thoughts your mind will escape from all that you have trapped inside your imagination. That was my conclusion for the semester’s paper in my philosophy class which I got an F on. I didn’t know if I was given a failing grade because the professor didn’t like what I said or how I said it.

You have to not be afraid to express yourself this will be the only way to discover what you really believe and require in life. It’s hard but once you have finished traveling you will know it was the only path that can lead you to where you have to go. I tried telling my parents this but they said the only thing important in life is getting a good job. Making as much money as possible and raising your own family. In other words not put so pleasantly they think the only thing you should do is continue along the same insane pathetic lane. Do not dare jump from the train it would surely be your end. I say If you don’t dare to jump if you do not take the risk, you have already failed.

I was on my favorite reading chair smoking a joint and drawing picture of naked women. When I saw Rye wake up it was about 2:30 in the afternoon.

He said good morning Mic. and through sign language meaning the middle finger I very politely greeted him. He nodded and then ran to the bathroom and sticking his head in the toilet puked up what smelled like Guinness and pizza. You see I have witnessed him getting sick so often that I developed a game. Through practice and careful inspection I have become able to identify all throw-up by scent alone. It isn’t a college course but is still important. After he had settled down I gave him my joint and was about to begin work on my history paper. A ten page account of some dead president who supposedly did something great blah blah blah, when Saty came in crying. It wasn’t easy calming her down but after a few moments of hugging and holding a woman she will tell you anything.

She said in a confused state of disbelief, haven’t you heard?

Heard what, I asked slowly becoming worried.

About Avy, she replied in a sad pitiful way. I had never seen Saty like that before. She started to shake her head and kept saying No, no no.

What, what is it, I yelled shaking her not able to take the suspense any more.

She said still crying Avy was raped last night and is in the hospital.

I sat there motionless I’m not sure if I was even breathing. I felt nothing I had become shocked to the point where there was complete silence. The room started to get dark as if night was arriving but the sun was still in the middle of the sky.

It wasn’t until Rye said, Who the fuck did it? that I was awoken from my illusion that this wasn’t happening. No one would ever hurt Avy she’s too beautiful too pure I wouldn’t ever let anything happen. Yet with those words who the fuck did it? I was slapped into reality and my first instinct was where is Avy I must see her. I threw on some shoes, grabbed my jacket and Saty took me to the hospital. I couldn’t imagine the pain of being raped what she went through and is and will always go through. At the hospital I ran upstairs, I didn’t even remember the streets we took to get there. The ride seemed to me as if I was floating on air the people and other cars were all just scenery. I was confused and distraught my mind was trapped in fog.

We got to the room and looking at the woman I loved and worshipped for the first time since I was a child I had to fight back tears. None of course fell because men don’t cry. But it was the closest I had gotten in a long time. Kneeling beside her almost throwing myself at her feet I begged to be forgiven for not being there.

Lifting her hand with the delicacy of an angel she ran her fingers through my long slightly curly hair. Almost patting me she said, You where there you are what kept me from dying the thought of being in your arms and kissing you is what made me fight.

Avy, I asked with such anger and rage that I could see the fear in her eyes.

But before I could say another word she interrupted and said. Dylan I’m not going to tell you because if you knew who did this you would kill them.

I said, Them you said them there was more than one. Before I even finished the sentence she was crying. Staring at her bruises and cuts I saw a woman who had been so clearly broken. I knew I would find out who did this and I would make them suffer. I didn’t want to cause her any more pain so I stopped and just held her.

The next couple of weeks Avy was in and out of the hospital getting treatment for her physical problems. The doctor had tried to talk her into psychological therapy but it just wasn’t for her. All she wanted to do was go home and be with her family. I knew she wanted some space so I stayed at school. I wasn’t with her physically but I called her every night and sent her flowers every day.

A couple of days later Saty came to my room around 10:00 am I was almost drunk at this point. I had started to develop a nice little drinking problem after the murder which is how I referred to the rape. I had had a drinking problem in the past actually it was much more than just a problem I had gotten out of control. But once Avy and I started to fall in love I no longer needed alcohol. Saty came in so fast to my numbed mind it felt like a breeze but she had a strong sense of purpose that made me quickly pay attention. She spoke very quietly that she knew who did it. Rye who was listening to the conversation but remaining neutral or rather dormant jumped out of bed upon hearing the news.

In a low crackling voice he said Lets kill the buggas. Even though Rye could be a real son of a bitch sometimes he was very loyal. Whether or not his loyalty was to me or violence and death I don’t know. But if you were going to fight someone you had better bring him along. He wasn’t a good fighter but man could he bite. He was one of those dirty fighters that everyone says they hate unless of course he’s on their side.

Saty, I said trying to stay calm but it was obvious to everyone I was far from being able to remain civilized. All I need is a name.

She said, Dylan before I tell you who I have to let you know how I learned of the devils name.

Fine but be quick, I said with a touch of rudeness.

I was in Biology class with professor McKinny I was sitting next to Mike Tompson when I saw him pass a note to Phil Daniel’s. I didn’t know what the note said all I saw and heard was Phil pretending to cry and saying no no please stop oh God no please no. Something inside of me I couldn’t explain an intuition I had never felt before forced me to grab the note. Phil and Mike suddenly turned white as a ghost almost as if they had just seen death. What the note said made me shutter with hatred.

What did it say damn it Rye asked now standing next to Saty.

Glancing around the room Saty asked You don’t have a gun or any sort of weapon here do you?

No, I said which was a lie because I knew Rye had a snub nose 38 he stole from his fathers gun collection hidden in his sock draw. Saty for Christ’s sake what the fuck did the note say I asked so loudly and with such frustration that I got dizzy.

Saty said, I will tell you but you have to promise that we will go straight to the police with this note or rather evidence and you won’t do anything crazy.

What do you mean evidence and when you said this note are you saying you have it with you. I asked rubbing my face not believing this was really happening.

Yes, she said slowly pulling it out from her jeans.

Let me have it. Give it to me now Saty, I said. Handing it over to me she looked like a scared little girl giving away her last piece of candy to the school bully. The words did not seem like words they felt more like Braille only not the kind you feel with your fingers. This type of writing was like having forks jabbed in your eyes in Morse code. It read, Come on Phil do your Avy impression of the night you fucked that bitch while I held the whore down.

I dropped the note leaped over Rye who was resting on the floor. At this point I was shaking with rage. I rummaged through his sock draw grabbed his gun and went for the door. Picking up the note Rye read it and knew instantly my intentions he yelled out, stop. I don’t know why but I did. I guess a part of me was waiting for him to talk me out of it. To say something like don’t do it you stupid Irish bastard I know you want to defend Avy’s honor but this isn’t the way man.

Yet those words did not enter the air instead he said wait for me. Reaching under his bed he pulled out a sawed off shot gun.

Seeing this I asked in amazement Where the hell did you get that and how the hell did you hide it in the room this whole time without me knowing.

I have my ways, my father got it for me for the hunting club I cut off some, he said stepping within inches of my face. Our noses almost touched as he said. Dylan I’m with you until the end you are the only one who has ever given a damn about me. I had never in my life felt closer to another man than at that moment. Saty sat on the bed not knowing what to do as we left the room never thinking about the consequences.

With the 38 and shotgun leading us two fools we ran out into the field in front of our dorm. Once outside looking at each other we knew we wanted blood but didn’t know where to get it. Do you know where those two bastards are? I asked hoping for a yes.

Rye said yeah they play football their probably getting out of practice now. We hid the guns under our long sleeve flannel shirts. Luckily Ryan’s shotgun wasn’t that long. Running over to the football arena my eyes filled with a color red all I wanted was death. Rye kept yelling almost chanting how we were going to get them. Were going to blow their balls off they’ll never rape another woman ever again, hell man they’ll never do anything again.

Rye said these words with a mad determination. Why had they done such a cruel thing to a creature so delicate and beautiful? Why had they ripped out her soul and replaced it with perpetual memories of pain. I wasn’t a fool I knew she would never be able to let go of that night it would haunt her forever. I knew that sometime in the future if we got married when we were making love having a man inside her would bring back those memories. I just didn’t think I could ever make love to her knowing that those visions might enter her head. I could never bring her pain, they had no idea how much they destroyed her.

All these sick emotions bounced around in my mind like the ball in a pinball machine. We searched the field then the locker rooms. They were not there with our guns safely hidden under our shirts we asked the assistant football coach where Mike and Phil were. He said that he had no idea and before he could finish we were out the door Yelling out at us he said If you see them tell them they’re in a lot of trouble for missing practice, this was the last practice before the state finals.

Glancing at each other briefly we laughed like two little girls. Oh yeah coach they’re in trouble all right I thought. Did they know we were after them? They must why else would they miss the biggest practice of the season.

Where does Mike live, I asked slowly realizing we needed a plan.

I don’t know, Rye said with an apologetic look on his face.

What the hell do you mean you don’t know?

Hey man don’t get pissed at me I’m here to help.

Sorry man I didn’t mean it, I just.

I know don’t worry about it I know. Well Dylan I don’t know where Mike is but I sure as hell know where Phil is he lives in Frost dormitory.

We got to Frost dormitory and asked the first guy we saw where Phil was.

The kid said Phil who Rye slammed him up against the wall and said Don’t mess with us man we want Phil.

The young kid who looked even to young to be a freshman said with fear. There is more than one Phil in this place asshole.

Ryan stepped away from him and I said catching my breath. Sorry about that we’re just looking for Phil Daniel’s that’s all no big deal.

Oh that Phil, he said, yeah I know where he lives he’s in room 213 second floor on the right. As we reached half way up the first flight of stairs the stranger said "he’s not here though he left with