𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐄

46.

the friend sat down on the cold hospital chair. he didn't feel as if he had to show his friend's dad who had power of the situation by standing. he knew he already had him where he wanted, doing what he wanted: letting his friend live. but just like everything in life, it came at a cost. a cost higher than any other, it had cost him the truth. perhaps he made a mistake. perhaps it was just foolishness. perhaps he had lost his mind. but he had no regrets. none of it mattered to him, not the dad knowing, not what he had done, none as long as he had his friend back in the end. he would handle the threat of the dad knowing easily enough. and when his friend would wake up, it was all as it should have been. just them. it was fair. more than fair. he was deserving of it.

so he brushed a hand through his hair, combing it backwards with his fingers while his friend's dad stood in the corner, arms crossed and his face cold and stern, and his friend layed motionless on white sheets, like a porcelain sculpture in between them. he took a deep breath, knowing that within mere minutes, everything would have changed, and started to talk.

friend: there was once a boy, discarded as a young child. his new parents were too bothered by appearances and image, too bothered with showing exactly what the world wanted to see of them, a perfect family. their status was everything to them. what the boy wanted didn't matter. all that mattered was a well put together smile, a polite manner, a "yes ma'am, no sir.". he grew sick of it.

then he met his soon-to-become friend, an actual friend he could laugh with, be himself around. he didn't have to force a smile and hear stories on how his peers went to another resort with their high and mighty parents. no, when he met a friend for the first time in his life, his eyes were shown a whole new side of the world. his friend had a lively, messy family. their house full of unorganized and scattered toys and magazines and books unalphabetically placed on tables and cabinets. drawers full of things, as if it was just thrown in there without any structure and order, their cutlery simple and few. they had a swing-set in a small backyard with natural grass and plants climbing over their old battered down wooden fence. they had dinners that didn't end in rehearsals and quizzes, dinners without multiple forks and knives and spoons, which needed to be used for a specific purpose, but just one of each. and above all, he didn't feel alone anymore. he didn't feel invisible. his friend was so contagiously cheerful that he never wanted to lose that feeling. he deserved it after all those years of being denied happiness.

for all those years he was the happiest he had ever been, almost spending all his time with them. his friend's mom often invited him to eat with them and have sleep overs and he was thrilled. that his parents would get furious with him when he returned home was unimportant to him.
but it wasn't long before he started to notice cracks and flaws. his perfect new family was breaking.
the boy couldn't be alone again. he wouldn't allow it. that wasn't fair. he was taught that to get what you want, you sometimes needed to do things you didn't want to. a means to an end. it was justified. so he did what he had to do to keep his friend around, knowing that if he wasn't to act quickly, the friends' mom would take him away, far away from the dad the boy knew she had marital problems with and, ultimately, from the boy himself. he couldn't let that happen. after all, his friend was all his now. forever. they would be happy as long as they were together. whatever it would take.

the friend stopped talking and looked at his friend's dad. by now he should have guessed who the story was about. the dad wanted to shout at him to get to the point. he had no interest in hearing the young man's story. all he wanted was to know the details of his wife and son's accident and why this person in front of him thought to know better, but he kept quiet, his lips tightly drawn into a thin line. the friend straightened his back, knowing full well the dad wouldn't try anything, and twisted the ring around his finger slowly.

friend: in the months that followed he did his homework, carefully taking in every detail about the family he could and came up with a plan. despite his age, he was intelligent. he started remembering the times the friends' brother would be going to practice, realizing that the mom was the one driving him every time. he started remembering the route they would take, every time the same. he was sure they wouldn't check the car for any lose wiring or leaky seals, not after he had been so careful not be seen.

the dad's jaw clenched together tightly, his face turned pale, but he remained noiseless. unfazed by the idea that the rest of the story would traumatize the dad, the friend continued calmy and composed.

friend: the rest was easier than expected. the little boy was surprised how willing someone was when there was money involved. he was surprised how dumb someone could be to accept any offer. not that they'd known just what was about to happen exactly. not that they'd known that the car he pointed out was stolen. all they had to do was drive this specific car at a specific time and hit a specific car. a simple hit and run. just a few scratches and a broken license plate. just a little warning, was what he told the man. he had an older relative standing next to him to give the man half of the money. a young boy like himself could have been taken advantage of. he had no strenght to fight off the man if he decided to attack and steal his money, or worse, kill him. the man that had accepted would get his other half of the payment once the job was done. it would be simple. no harm. and it wasn't a complete lie. lying was wrong, his stupid foster parents had taught him that much. he simply let out some details. finally having rich parents comes in handy, he thought to himself. all that was left was a little bit of luck and fate would do the rest.

the friend had his eyes strictly facing the older man in front of him. he noticed the small veins in his neck visible and throbbing, the twitching of his jaw, the narrowing eyes that were filled with disgust and wrath, but the dad didn't speak. he was too perplexed, it sounded too unfathomable, too much like the friend was just telling a sickly twisted tale to mess with his head, but then the friend spoke again, his voice drenched in malevolent venom as his eyes turned into ice cold bottomless pools, deprived of any light.

friend: who would believe a deranged man blaming a kid? not only would he have been held accountable for driving a stolen vehicle, the little boy got to keep half of the money too. and he knew his friend would be okay. he was still young, he would heal and march on. it was justified. he had lost his real family too, long ago. so together they'd be okay.
the boy could already imagine it. a speeding car colliding with the passenger side of a car with an unaware mother and elder son inside, only to quickly drive off before onlookers would really get what had just happened. they would be alive, inside that car, they would be confused and if he was lucky, they would have hit their heads. but they would have no time to waste, sparks would ignite, engine set ablaze. they would struggle with their seatbelts, desperately trying to escape the wreckage, or perhaps, the mom would first try to see if her son would be unconscious. before they'd realize they'd be engulved in high, metallic flames. the boy couldn't help but wonder if they'd scream, he wondered what their last thought would be. he wondered how the wreckage would smell. how their bodies would morph into unrecognizable pieces of burned down bones. "a simple hit and run". such a tragic accident. and he couldn't help but curl his lips up into a small grin when he waited for that day to come. his friend wouldn't move away anymore. his mom wouldn't take her sons and go somewhere far away. with them out of the picture, his friend would never leave him.