Charlie's Hell
started from the mind of Heidi
Charlie couldn’t believe it. He had waited all these years, patiently he might add, and finally the day had come and still, it seemed he would have to wait even longer. Carol Jean was nowhere to be found. How did one get lost on the way to hell?
It had all happened so many years ago that it was dim in his memory, dim but not forgotten. He had fallen in love with her the first time she glided past him into the Engineering Building, just before he wondered what a beautiful woman could possibly be doing among all these nerds and geeks. Luckily he didn’t pose the question aloud, knowing well just how talented and bright even beautiful women could be. He just didn’t like it. Things were easier when they weren’t quite as fetching.
The plan was already forming in his brilliant brain that first day. The blood scatter, the damage done by the nails and tacks, broken glass, and best of all the tiny pieces of shrapnel he had collected over the years. Fatally killing all those who had ignored him, bullied him, and pushed him around like he was nobody. Best of all was that it would be untraceable.
Unfortunately, it would also be fatal for Charlie himself. Who knew beauty could also be so devious?
JoLyn
The behaviors that Charlie justified in himself, he was unable to excuse in others. He had always been an outsider. He was not able to adjust his life to fit the social mores and rules that were expected of him. Charlie also existed outside the bounds of normal relationships. He recalled watching Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood as a child and listening as Mr. Rogers chatted with his neighbors and friends. He was astute enough to know that the old man was talking to other children watching in their homes. But Mr. Rogers was not HIS friend. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out how all the other kids had gotten to be Mr. Rogers’ friend and he had somehow missed it. Had the man gone around and met all the other kids in their homes? Why didn’t he come to visit Charlie? What made the other kids so special? And Charlie not? Ever the outsider, he silently seethed as Mr. Rogers spoke to every other child in existence. Charlie suspected conspiracy (were his parents involved in keeping Mr. Rogers away?) and vowed revenge on those that excluded him (everybody). Life is lonely for a four-year-old psychopath.
Charlie always felt that he was play-acting or performing in some role when he was around other people. He had to make a conscious decision to act normal. Normal did not come naturally to him. Grade school was torture and Jr. High still caused Charlie physical pain when he thought about it, but he’d eventually learned who and what to avoid to survive. He somehow made it through high school by keeping his head low. Fortunately, he found that most of the students in the MechE program at MIT were off-center enough that he could let down his guard and be a little more of himself.
Most of the awkward men that inhabited the halls of MIT would approach a beautiful woman in the typical way: a tired pick-up line or an earnest and clumsy personal introduction. They would likely be rebuffed and continue on with life. Charlie wasn’t going to be rebuffed. He was going to get to know the ethereal beauty who had glided past him in his own way.
Within a week, he knew her name was Carol Jean Wilson. He knew her schedule: Civic Engineering classes on the honor track in the morning, three hours with Dr. Brewer in the afternoon as a teaching assistant and then an hour spent in the gym. Once, she had met friends for dinner (all women). He knew Carol Jean didn’t have a roommate and that she kept the key to her apartment buried in the dirt of the ficus plant of her across-the-hall neighbor. He knew to avoid the poky spring in the center cushion of her couch as he lounged and watched television while she was in class. He knew the lingering scent of her shampoo on her pillow and how her long strands of blonde hair changed colors in the light as he collected them from her hairbrush. And while he had never spoken to her in person, he knew the low sultry tones of her voice from the answering machine.
He also knew how it felt to watch other men watch her. When Charlie felt that one fellow student had crossed the line with Carol Jean, he put his hacking skills to good use and destroyed the man’s life as best he could virtually. A wolf-whistle at Carol Jean? How low-brow. Where were people’s manners nowadays?
Thelma
On graduation day, everything had gone according to Charlie’s plan. He had a small bag under his gown, containing the bomb. He filed onto the quad with the rest of the graduates, all wearing their ridiculous clothing. They were all smiling and excited. Some of them had already started drinking, he could tell.
He walked in a few students behind Carol Jean. He watched the high heels of her black shoes tap across the uneven sidewalk as they walked. He heard her laugh and joke with the people around her.
Soon, they would all be dead.
Soon, he would be with Carol Jean. He would have her all to himself. They would be in hell together.
Exactly at the moment when the graduation was complete and students around him were laughing and some were tossing their caps into the air, he detonated the bomb. He didn’t remember anything else after that.
Now he assumed that he was in hell. Where else did people go that created bombs for graduation? It wasn’t quite like he imagined though. It wasn’t like cartoons with flames and devils with pitchforks and horns. It was a quiet gray room, sort of like a train station and there were doors on one end that looked almost like elevator doors.
As he stared at them, waiting for something to happen, they opened. A short man with glasses perched on his nose who wheezed when he breathed and seemed agitated walked with urgent steps out of the elevator and toward him. Behind him, trailing behind with sort of a dazed expression was none other than Carol Jean.
“Charlie Anderson?” the little man asked. He puffed out his cheeks and wiped his brow. He didn’t wait for Charlie to confirm his name. “We’re late,” he said, “There was some sort of mix up and you were misplaced.”
“Misplaced?” Charlie asked.
“It happens,” the man said impatiently, “It’s just really annoying. Now come on. Follow me.”
Charlie didn’t know what else to do so he followed behind the man, next to Carol Jean.
“Wait,” she said, looking at him, “I know you. Engineering, right?”
Charlie looked down, “Yes,” he said.
“I think we’re…dead,” Carol Jean said. “I have no idea what happened.”
“It was a bomb,” Charlie said, for some reason he felt really terrible. He’d never felt like this before. What had he been thinking? Looking back on his life seemed like an odd and strange dream. The more time passed, the more twisted and confusing it seemed. Somehow it seemed like Carol Jean had been significant to him, before. Now he realized that he didn’t know her. He remembered the bomb with increasing remorse and he had a vague feeling that his conduct toward Carol Jean had not been right.
They walked into a room. There was a group sitting around on folding chairs. A woman with a clipboard was seated too and seemed to be part of the group.
“Charlie,” she said, “Please, find a seat.”
Charlie looked around and realized he knew everyone in the circle.
Frances
There were 9 people in the circle. Every single one of them he had had in classes at MIT. Charlie sat down in one of the empty seats. Carol Jean sat in the seat next to him even though there were two other seats she could have picked. It made Charlie nervous to have her so close. He wished she'd picked a different seat.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here to discuss what Charlie did," said the woman with the clipboard. "My name is June. We're expecting two more shortly but we'll go ahead and get started. I'm here to help."
Charlie wondered what she was talking about. There was no way he was going to open up to these people what he had done. He wanted out of here now. Carol Jean didn't matter to him anymore.
"What do you mean what Charlie did?" asked a man Charlie recognized from his electrical engineering class sophomore year. "Where the hell are we and what happened?"
Charlie really wanted to leave, to be anywhere else. How was he to explain what he did when he didn't even understand it anymore. How could he get out of here?
June replied, "I'm sorry to inform you that you are dead and that you are currently in transition. We are here to discuss the details of your death, which Charlie will explain, and what will be happening from here on out, which will be my responsibility to explain. Charlie..."
June looked right at him. Charlie jumped up and turned to run but the door he'd come through had disappeared. He turned and faced the people he had been responsible for killing and he had no words to tell them what he had done. He tried to remember the letter, what he'd written to explain to everyone why he'd had to detonate the bomb, but he couldn't remember the specifics now. It had all seemed so clear before. He knew he had to be with Carol Jean and this was maybe the only way. He just didn't know, and what was he to say to all these people looking at him. And there was Carol Jean.
"Charlie....", said Carol Jean.
Heather
Time seemed to stand still for an eternity. There was a clock ticking on the wall, but the face had no numbers, only an endless circle of tick-marks marching on toward the end of time.
Suddenly another door was present, and it burst open with a gust. Charlie's breath froze in his throat when he saw who was standing in the doorway. His father's broad frame nearly took up the entire width of the door. He had a look of fire in his eyes, and he was looking directly at Charlie. His mother stood timidly behind him, the creases in her face punctuated by fresh tear tracks, her tiny body quivering in her husband's wake.
"What have you done?" his father nearly roared.
"Pop..." Charlie began to stutter, but he couldn't force any other sounds to come from his mouth.
How many years had Charlie been forced to cower in his own home, never knowing whether he would be hit with a violent stream of words, or the solid broad expanse of his father's bare hands. Charlie could hardly tell which he dreaded most. The physical scars eventually dissipated, but the emotional ones were now a part of who he was.
Charlie learned to cope by secluding himself in his room, pouring over books and magazines, imagining what his life would be away from this house. After high school graduation, Charlie was on the next bus out of town.
But why were his parents here? They should be back home in Connecticut, living their lives without him in it.
"What is going on here?" demanded the same man from Charlie's electrical engineering class. His hair was still messed up from his graduation cap and he had a dark, angry brow.
His father immediately puffed out his chest and pointed a stubby finger at Charlie. "This idiot boy of mine just blew us all to hell and back!" Charlie began whimpering and backing away from his father. "You always thought you were so special, because you're so much smarter than your old man! You think I didn't know how you stayed up late at night tinkering with your little gadgets, tearing apart the things I bought with my hard-earned money so that you could build your special little projects? You thought you were better than your old man, and you just had to get out there and show the world, didn't you?!"
Charlie's father spat on the ground and stalked over to the other side of the room.
"Oh, Charlie..." his mother was approaching now, her lip trembling, her hands reaching out toward him. Charlie's stomach writhed and he withdrew instantly.
How many times had she looked the other way when his father had beat his face to a bloody pulp, or left the room when the abusive yelling would escalate? Charlie despised her. She had abandoned him so many times. He could never forgive her.
"Why are you here, Mother?" he asked her, unable to hide his revulsion.
"We came to your graduation, of course. We were so proud of you...." and she trailed off, unable to finish.
Carol Jean timidly spoke from near where June sat, "So we are all here, we are all dead....and it is because of....you?" At the last she pointed to where Charlie was cowering in the corner.
The room started to buzz with the anger and confusion present during crisis situations. June attempted to calm the rumbling.
"Rest, everyone, you will get your answers. We must hear from Charlie now."
Heidi
“Well, I uh, you see, uh…” Charlie mumbled, not sure where to begin. Why did everything seem so hazy to him and yet so clear for everyone else? He had made a huge mistake and he felt so horrible, mortified, and sick that he could have been the instigator of something so horrible as to kill nine people. Really, he did that? How could he have done that? It couldn’t be true, it just couldn’t! Could it?
Carol Jean approached him then, gently placing her left hand on his shoulder and standing up on her tippy-toes to whisper in his ear, “It's ok Charlie. Just tell us what happened. We aren’t angry with you; we just want to understand what is going on. Why we are here. We are feeling so confused, life is just over? Just like that? You have the answers that can help put us to rest. Please just talk to us Charlie. Please.”
She seemed so sincere, so loyal. How could he refuse? Where his pop had been volatile, Carol Jean was soft and warm. He could feel the emotions and memories he had had before pouring back into his head and into his heart. Ahh, then suddenly he was hard and mean and dispassionate, just as before. It was so much easier to be this way.
He explained it all in minute detail. How every nail, every piece of glass, every particle of the bomb had been lovingly crafted for someone who had wronged him in the past.
And as he explained all of his horrible deeds and villainous thoughts, one by one the people in the group began disappearing. At first he couldn’t believe his eyes. Where were they going?
Quietly June pulled Carol Jean aside. Charlie could hear June whispering words to her, words of “so sorry,” “big mistake,” and “not your time.” Carol Jean’s figure began to fade away. She briefly made eye contact with Charlie, until there was nothing left but mist and a subtle scent of lavendar in the air.
Charlie began to panic. This was all for her. It would all be for nothing if she was gone.
“Wait! Where are you taking her? Where is Carol Jean? She is supposed to be here with me!”
June turned and gave Charlie a smile. It wasn’t a smirk or a smile of condescension, rather a smile of pity. And that was the worst kind of smile that Charlie could have received from someone. He knew that meant that he was the one being punished and that the others were all being given a gift. Again he had missed out on something. Again, Mr. Rogers had forgotten to visit him.
Instead, Mr. Rogers had come to collect those innocents, those students from MIT. But where was his adored Carol Jean? Why was she taken from him? He was left alone in that grey formless room which gradually receded into nothingness. The walls faded back until they were simply no longer there, but he couldn’t see anything else take their place, it was just dark, misty, a place of nowhere. There was nothing around him. No ceiling, no table, no chairs, no people, nothing. And it was there he waited for another 63 years for his dearest (for by that time she again became dear indeed) Carol Jean to return to him.
Because what he hadn’t had a chance to tell anybody was that Carol Jean was his partner in the crime. They had been communicating via email, she wasn’t sure who he was or what exactly he was going to do, but she was sure that she wanted to be a part of something dramatic. She just didn’t want to be part of the dying and somehow she hadn't been. And now that she was finally dead, Charlie was going to find out just how she had gotten away with it. Why she got to continue to live and he had been in hell for all these years. Without her. Remembering.
She should be here any minute, right?
It had all happened so many years ago that it was dim in his memory, dim but not forgotten. He had fallen in love with her the first time she glided past him into the Engineering Building, just before he wondered what a beautiful woman could possibly be doing among all these nerds and geeks. Luckily he didn’t pose the question aloud, knowing well just how talented and bright even beautiful women could be. He just didn’t like it. Things were easier when they weren’t quite as fetching.
The plan was already forming in his brilliant brain that first day. The blood scatter, the damage done by the nails and tacks, broken glass, and best of all the tiny pieces of shrapnel he had collected over the years. Fatally killing all those who had ignored him, bullied him, and pushed him around like he was nobody. Best of all was that it would be untraceable.
Unfortunately, it would also be fatal for Charlie himself. Who knew beauty could also be so devious?
JoLyn
The behaviors that Charlie justified in himself, he was unable to excuse in others. He had always been an outsider. He was not able to adjust his life to fit the social mores and rules that were expected of him. Charlie also existed outside the bounds of normal relationships. He recalled watching Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood as a child and listening as Mr. Rogers chatted with his neighbors and friends. He was astute enough to know that the old man was talking to other children watching in their homes. But Mr. Rogers was not HIS friend. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out how all the other kids had gotten to be Mr. Rogers’ friend and he had somehow missed it. Had the man gone around and met all the other kids in their homes? Why didn’t he come to visit Charlie? What made the other kids so special? And Charlie not? Ever the outsider, he silently seethed as Mr. Rogers spoke to every other child in existence. Charlie suspected conspiracy (were his parents involved in keeping Mr. Rogers away?) and vowed revenge on those that excluded him (everybody). Life is lonely for a four-year-old psychopath.
Charlie always felt that he was play-acting or performing in some role when he was around other people. He had to make a conscious decision to act normal. Normal did not come naturally to him. Grade school was torture and Jr. High still caused Charlie physical pain when he thought about it, but he’d eventually learned who and what to avoid to survive. He somehow made it through high school by keeping his head low. Fortunately, he found that most of the students in the MechE program at MIT were off-center enough that he could let down his guard and be a little more of himself.
Most of the awkward men that inhabited the halls of MIT would approach a beautiful woman in the typical way: a tired pick-up line or an earnest and clumsy personal introduction. They would likely be rebuffed and continue on with life. Charlie wasn’t going to be rebuffed. He was going to get to know the ethereal beauty who had glided past him in his own way.
Within a week, he knew her name was Carol Jean Wilson. He knew her schedule: Civic Engineering classes on the honor track in the morning, three hours with Dr. Brewer in the afternoon as a teaching assistant and then an hour spent in the gym. Once, she had met friends for dinner (all women). He knew Carol Jean didn’t have a roommate and that she kept the key to her apartment buried in the dirt of the ficus plant of her across-the-hall neighbor. He knew to avoid the poky spring in the center cushion of her couch as he lounged and watched television while she was in class. He knew the lingering scent of her shampoo on her pillow and how her long strands of blonde hair changed colors in the light as he collected them from her hairbrush. And while he had never spoken to her in person, he knew the low sultry tones of her voice from the answering machine.
He also knew how it felt to watch other men watch her. When Charlie felt that one fellow student had crossed the line with Carol Jean, he put his hacking skills to good use and destroyed the man’s life as best he could virtually. A wolf-whistle at Carol Jean? How low-brow. Where were people’s manners nowadays?
Thelma
On graduation day, everything had gone according to Charlie’s plan. He had a small bag under his gown, containing the bomb. He filed onto the quad with the rest of the graduates, all wearing their ridiculous clothing. They were all smiling and excited. Some of them had already started drinking, he could tell.
He walked in a few students behind Carol Jean. He watched the high heels of her black shoes tap across the uneven sidewalk as they walked. He heard her laugh and joke with the people around her.
Soon, they would all be dead.
Soon, he would be with Carol Jean. He would have her all to himself. They would be in hell together.
Exactly at the moment when the graduation was complete and students around him were laughing and some were tossing their caps into the air, he detonated the bomb. He didn’t remember anything else after that.
Now he assumed that he was in hell. Where else did people go that created bombs for graduation? It wasn’t quite like he imagined though. It wasn’t like cartoons with flames and devils with pitchforks and horns. It was a quiet gray room, sort of like a train station and there were doors on one end that looked almost like elevator doors.
As he stared at them, waiting for something to happen, they opened. A short man with glasses perched on his nose who wheezed when he breathed and seemed agitated walked with urgent steps out of the elevator and toward him. Behind him, trailing behind with sort of a dazed expression was none other than Carol Jean.
“Charlie Anderson?” the little man asked. He puffed out his cheeks and wiped his brow. He didn’t wait for Charlie to confirm his name. “We’re late,” he said, “There was some sort of mix up and you were misplaced.”
“Misplaced?” Charlie asked.
“It happens,” the man said impatiently, “It’s just really annoying. Now come on. Follow me.”
Charlie didn’t know what else to do so he followed behind the man, next to Carol Jean.
“Wait,” she said, looking at him, “I know you. Engineering, right?”
Charlie looked down, “Yes,” he said.
“I think we’re…dead,” Carol Jean said. “I have no idea what happened.”
“It was a bomb,” Charlie said, for some reason he felt really terrible. He’d never felt like this before. What had he been thinking? Looking back on his life seemed like an odd and strange dream. The more time passed, the more twisted and confusing it seemed. Somehow it seemed like Carol Jean had been significant to him, before. Now he realized that he didn’t know her. He remembered the bomb with increasing remorse and he had a vague feeling that his conduct toward Carol Jean had not been right.
They walked into a room. There was a group sitting around on folding chairs. A woman with a clipboard was seated too and seemed to be part of the group.
“Charlie,” she said, “Please, find a seat.”
Charlie looked around and realized he knew everyone in the circle.
Frances
There were 9 people in the circle. Every single one of them he had had in classes at MIT. Charlie sat down in one of the empty seats. Carol Jean sat in the seat next to him even though there were two other seats she could have picked. It made Charlie nervous to have her so close. He wished she'd picked a different seat.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here to discuss what Charlie did," said the woman with the clipboard. "My name is June. We're expecting two more shortly but we'll go ahead and get started. I'm here to help."
Charlie wondered what she was talking about. There was no way he was going to open up to these people what he had done. He wanted out of here now. Carol Jean didn't matter to him anymore.
"What do you mean what Charlie did?" asked a man Charlie recognized from his electrical engineering class sophomore year. "Where the hell are we and what happened?"
Charlie really wanted to leave, to be anywhere else. How was he to explain what he did when he didn't even understand it anymore. How could he get out of here?
June replied, "I'm sorry to inform you that you are dead and that you are currently in transition. We are here to discuss the details of your death, which Charlie will explain, and what will be happening from here on out, which will be my responsibility to explain. Charlie..."
June looked right at him. Charlie jumped up and turned to run but the door he'd come through had disappeared. He turned and faced the people he had been responsible for killing and he had no words to tell them what he had done. He tried to remember the letter, what he'd written to explain to everyone why he'd had to detonate the bomb, but he couldn't remember the specifics now. It had all seemed so clear before. He knew he had to be with Carol Jean and this was maybe the only way. He just didn't know, and what was he to say to all these people looking at him. And there was Carol Jean.
"Charlie....", said Carol Jean.
Heather
Time seemed to stand still for an eternity. There was a clock ticking on the wall, but the face had no numbers, only an endless circle of tick-marks marching on toward the end of time.
Suddenly another door was present, and it burst open with a gust. Charlie's breath froze in his throat when he saw who was standing in the doorway. His father's broad frame nearly took up the entire width of the door. He had a look of fire in his eyes, and he was looking directly at Charlie. His mother stood timidly behind him, the creases in her face punctuated by fresh tear tracks, her tiny body quivering in her husband's wake.
"What have you done?" his father nearly roared.
"Pop..." Charlie began to stutter, but he couldn't force any other sounds to come from his mouth.
How many years had Charlie been forced to cower in his own home, never knowing whether he would be hit with a violent stream of words, or the solid broad expanse of his father's bare hands. Charlie could hardly tell which he dreaded most. The physical scars eventually dissipated, but the emotional ones were now a part of who he was.
Charlie learned to cope by secluding himself in his room, pouring over books and magazines, imagining what his life would be away from this house. After high school graduation, Charlie was on the next bus out of town.
But why were his parents here? They should be back home in Connecticut, living their lives without him in it.
"What is going on here?" demanded the same man from Charlie's electrical engineering class. His hair was still messed up from his graduation cap and he had a dark, angry brow.
His father immediately puffed out his chest and pointed a stubby finger at Charlie. "This idiot boy of mine just blew us all to hell and back!" Charlie began whimpering and backing away from his father. "You always thought you were so special, because you're so much smarter than your old man! You think I didn't know how you stayed up late at night tinkering with your little gadgets, tearing apart the things I bought with my hard-earned money so that you could build your special little projects? You thought you were better than your old man, and you just had to get out there and show the world, didn't you?!"
Charlie's father spat on the ground and stalked over to the other side of the room.
"Oh, Charlie..." his mother was approaching now, her lip trembling, her hands reaching out toward him. Charlie's stomach writhed and he withdrew instantly.
How many times had she looked the other way when his father had beat his face to a bloody pulp, or left the room when the abusive yelling would escalate? Charlie despised her. She had abandoned him so many times. He could never forgive her.
"Why are you here, Mother?" he asked her, unable to hide his revulsion.
"We came to your graduation, of course. We were so proud of you...." and she trailed off, unable to finish.
Carol Jean timidly spoke from near where June sat, "So we are all here, we are all dead....and it is because of....you?" At the last she pointed to where Charlie was cowering in the corner.
The room started to buzz with the anger and confusion present during crisis situations. June attempted to calm the rumbling.
"Rest, everyone, you will get your answers. We must hear from Charlie now."
Heidi
“Well, I uh, you see, uh…” Charlie mumbled, not sure where to begin. Why did everything seem so hazy to him and yet so clear for everyone else? He had made a huge mistake and he felt so horrible, mortified, and sick that he could have been the instigator of something so horrible as to kill nine people. Really, he did that? How could he have done that? It couldn’t be true, it just couldn’t! Could it?
Carol Jean approached him then, gently placing her left hand on his shoulder and standing up on her tippy-toes to whisper in his ear, “It's ok Charlie. Just tell us what happened. We aren’t angry with you; we just want to understand what is going on. Why we are here. We are feeling so confused, life is just over? Just like that? You have the answers that can help put us to rest. Please just talk to us Charlie. Please.”
She seemed so sincere, so loyal. How could he refuse? Where his pop had been volatile, Carol Jean was soft and warm. He could feel the emotions and memories he had had before pouring back into his head and into his heart. Ahh, then suddenly he was hard and mean and dispassionate, just as before. It was so much easier to be this way.
He explained it all in minute detail. How every nail, every piece of glass, every particle of the bomb had been lovingly crafted for someone who had wronged him in the past.
And as he explained all of his horrible deeds and villainous thoughts, one by one the people in the group began disappearing. At first he couldn’t believe his eyes. Where were they going?
Quietly June pulled Carol Jean aside. Charlie could hear June whispering words to her, words of “so sorry,” “big mistake,” and “not your time.” Carol Jean’s figure began to fade away. She briefly made eye contact with Charlie, until there was nothing left but mist and a subtle scent of lavendar in the air.
Charlie began to panic. This was all for her. It would all be for nothing if she was gone.
“Wait! Where are you taking her? Where is Carol Jean? She is supposed to be here with me!”
June turned and gave Charlie a smile. It wasn’t a smirk or a smile of condescension, rather a smile of pity. And that was the worst kind of smile that Charlie could have received from someone. He knew that meant that he was the one being punished and that the others were all being given a gift. Again he had missed out on something. Again, Mr. Rogers had forgotten to visit him.
Instead, Mr. Rogers had come to collect those innocents, those students from MIT. But where was his adored Carol Jean? Why was she taken from him? He was left alone in that grey formless room which gradually receded into nothingness. The walls faded back until they were simply no longer there, but he couldn’t see anything else take their place, it was just dark, misty, a place of nowhere. There was nothing around him. No ceiling, no table, no chairs, no people, nothing. And it was there he waited for another 63 years for his dearest (for by that time she again became dear indeed) Carol Jean to return to him.
Because what he hadn’t had a chance to tell anybody was that Carol Jean was his partner in the crime. They had been communicating via email, she wasn’t sure who he was or what exactly he was going to do, but she was sure that she wanted to be a part of something dramatic. She just didn’t want to be part of the dying and somehow she hadn't been. And now that she was finally dead, Charlie was going to find out just how she had gotten away with it. Why she got to continue to live and he had been in hell for all these years. Without her. Remembering.
She should be here any minute, right?
