You Kill Me

"Good morning, sunshine!" I called, grandly sweeping my arm wide open as I presented myself down the stairs. Unfortunately, my audience was just my parents. They weren’t the most adoring fans either.

"Isn’t it a glorious morning?" I beamed at them despite their curious looks. I couldn’t blame that reaction from them though – I wasn’t exactly a morning person. Give me five rounds against a snooze bar and I’ll still sleep in.

"Maggie, you need to lay off the caffeine." Mom peered at me from over her newspaper. "Where’s that lovable grouch that normally greets us every morning?"

"This lovable grouch doesn’t have her theatre class today," I explained, pulling out a chair and planting my rear end down on it.

"So that’s what the cheerfulness is for. Figured it couldn’t be a natural phenomenon." Hearing a deep-toned chuckle on my left side, I narrowed my eyes and cast an evil glare towards my father. Or step-father, actually. I try not to make things too complicated, despite the fact it took me about four years before I called him ‘Dad.’

"Good morning to you too." I wasn’t going to let the sarcasm of my parents let me down. "Nothing’s better than getting out of doing something you despise."

"Why on earth would you take a class you don’t like?" Mom (or Karen for all you technical people) flipped down the top half of her newspaper and glanced at me.

"Fine arts requirement." I rolled my eyes and drummed my fingers absently on the smooth surface of the kitchen table. "It was either that or a studio art class. I think the only one that was open was Sculpture."

"Sculpture.. and you?" She laughed. "Now I see why you picked theatre. I wouldn’t be within a ten-mile radius of you with a blow torch in your hands."

"Hey," I balled my hands into tight fists and raised them to chin-height, a poor imitation of a boxer. "Those damn things wouldn’t stand a chance, because I am the greatest!"

"Horrible impression there, Maggie." Dad groaned at me. "The King’s rolling over in his grave now because of that."

"No he’s not." I corrected him with a sly grin, dropping my hands. "Elvis was at the Seven Eleven last night. Don’t you read your National Inquirer?"

"No, I prefer to read from creditable writers." He looked pointedly at me. "Unlike someone else I know."

"Oh come on!" I laughed loudly as he referred to the enormous stash of old magazines on the floor in my room. It never failed: every time I went to the check-out line of the grocery store, those bold headlines would just beakon me to pick up the magazines. A few flips of the newsprint pages later and they’d be cast right into my cart. Call it a weakness. Pathetic, I know.

My most favorite, and it’s proud display on the wall above my bed proved that, was an article titled:

Hanson: Formerly Siamese Twins, now barely surviving with half their organs. It was even complete with posted pictures of the guys onto what appeared to be a sumo wrestler-sized body. Now, you can’t just put a price on that kind of entertainment.

"At least I don’t take any of them seriously." I pointed out. "And it could be worse – I could be buying porn. Then you’d have to have a completely different discussion with me."

"The day they start selling pornography at grocery stores is the day this family turns Amish." Both my and Dad’s heads turned to Mom at her announcement.

"Really?" My eyebrows shot up suggestively. "Then maybe I wouldn’t get incriminating phone calls at one a.m. from a certain former teenage heart throb."

"Uh-oh." Dad glanced back at me. "Trouble in HansonLand?"

"Nothing too horrendous." I leaned forward and propped my elbows on the table. "He just called me to say he doesn’t want me to teach aerobics anymore."

"Did he?" Mom joined the conversation with a wary question. While they loved Taylor nearly as much as I do, despite the fact he’s making that exceptionally hard right now, I think deep-down my parents have the fear that he’ll take me away from them some day. I’d assured them more than once that I wouldn't be the next one after Sarah to walk down the aisle. It’s better to focus on the present and let the future worry about itself anyway. Less stressful too.

"Yup."

"Did he give a reason?"

"Not really." I admitted. "I didn’t give him much of a chance."

"You didn’t let your emotions get the best of you again, did you?"

"What the heck does that mean!?" I snapped sharply back at Dad for that question. It only took a few seconds of my eyes narrowed, blazing with anger, before my face broke into a grin. He responded by rolling his eyes.

"I only meant that you have the tendency to get.. overly emotional." He replied. "That’s all."

"I do?" This was news. Not Enquirer-worth news, but news nonetheless.

"You have to admit, Maggie." Mom added her two cents. "You do tend to over-react sometimes."

"Like when?" I asked hesitantly, having an idea of where this was going.

"You aren’t the most pleasant person to be around during.. you know, that time of the month." Thanks Dad.

"Did I ask to ovulate?" I threw up my hands. "Did I bargin for more estrogen than testosterone in my system? No. I rest my case. Trust me, I’m a lawyer."

"Good thing you didn’t follow our footsteps." He reached over and bopped me on the head. "You’d make a mockery of the justice system."

"For once I’m in agreement with you, Dad." I ducked my head and smiled.

"Have you put any thoughts as to where you’d like to go for Fall Break?" Mom asked.

"Not a single one," I replied.

"Isn’t it coming up soon?" I nodded at her. My school gave a glorious, and much-needed in my opinion, four day weekend on the second week of October. The last two I’d "celebrated" by working double-shifts at the health club, not exactly what I’d consider a vacation but having the extra money on my paycheck was appreciated.

Then I could go out and buy the whole damn stand of National Enquirers..

"Good evening everyone. I'm Frank and this is Tulsa's Channel Four News at eleven."

"And I'm Diane. Thank you for joining us. Our top story tonight is one of tragedy. Maggie Olsen, nineteen, seen here, was attacked by one of her ex-boyfriends Justin in a local dance club tonight. He's seen here, being escorted by the Tulsa Police Department to the Public Hospital, for Maggie had lashed out against him, kicking his groin and breaking his pelvic bone. A police investigation started a few hours after the encounter. They are seen here interviewing witnesses."

"Do you know what's going on Miss?" Mia's face came into view. A microphone was shoved in front of her face.

"I saw the entire thing!" she claimed. "Maggie's totally innocent." Just as quickly, she was cut off the screen and the two reporters continued.

"Diane, who is to blame here, Maggie or Justin?"

"Well, Frank, it is rumored that he has a history of abusing her since junior high school. We can only wait until the official report is released."

"Is the nature of the charges known? Domestic violence on his account or assault and battery on hers?"

"Whatever the verdict, you can be sure that Channel Four News will be the first to report it. We're going to a short commercial break." She turned towards the camera and smiled.

**

"Good evening. In our top story, the horrifying stalking of Maggie Olsen takes an interesting turn. Frank Stein is on site of the Tulsa courthouse with the most current update. Frank?"

"Thank you Diana. Channel Four was the first to receive a shocking update. We do now have confirmation that all charges of assault and battery against Maggie, the nineteen year-old who was attacked by her former boyfriend just last week, were dropped today."

"Did you say dropped, Frank?" Even the lead reporter seemed surprised.

"Yes. Despite the eye-witnesses of her attacking him in a dance club, her charges were dropped by Justin’s parents. Even more disturbing is that, as part of an out-of-court settlement, the charges against her accused attacker Justin were also dropped. He currently is only facing charges from the state on the grounds of vandalism. The state will try to prove not only did he damage Maggie’s car within the last month, but also personal property six years ago. The set court date for that case is next week and Channel Four news will be there to cover the story."

**

"So how do you feel about the court’s verdict?" A microphone was cast into my face. My eyes shifted nervously as I fought my way down the white marble steps of the courthouse. The entire scene was a mob of reporters, each with his own question for me.

"Maggie, what’s your feelings on the dropped charges of rape?" "How relieved are you that your charges were also dropped?" "Are you going to be involved in the personal witness protection agency if the state fails in its case against Justin?" "How sore are the emotional scars, Maggie?" "How does it feel to lecture on rape but then fall a victim to it?"

Don’t they have anything else to do other than pry into my personal life? I wondered as I narrowed my eyes. While I’d passed up many questions with a wave of my hand, this was enough, particularly at the incorrect belief I’d been raped after I’d started lecturing on it. My jaw clenched tightly shut, I reached out and clenched the nearest microphone tightly and opened my mouth to give them a piece of my mind. Before I could speak, I felt Dad’s hand clamp firmly on my shoulder and saw him shaking his head at me.

"Let’s just go home." He spoke quietly to me.

**

"So, what do you think?" I pushed the stop button on the vcr and turned to the class. Half of the young faces peered back at me with wide eyes. Unfortunately, the other half looked bored. I frowned at a boy in the back who’d propped his feet on the desk in front of him, slid his hat over his eyes, and slept through the video.

"That was you?" A girl from the front row asked me.

"Yes, Ma’am." I nodded slightly, eyeing the boy in the back.

"How many of you remember that on television last year?" A few people raised their hands half-heartedly.

"So you’re a celebrity now?" A girl asked me with sparkles in her eyes. "How exciting."

"Not exactly. Television news is exciting, but it’s inaccurate." I pointed out. "Thank God none of those reporters ever found out where I live, otherwise I’d never have gotten peace of mind."

"Quick question then," a high-pitched male voice asked. The corners of my mouth twitched up into a smile, for he sounded like he hadn’t reached puberty yet.

"Shoot."

"If your story was so inaccurate, then why didn’t you hold a press release and say everything that you wanted people to know?"

"Because for a long period of my life I didn’t want anyone to know." I replied quietly. "Rape is not a public issue. It’s not a comfortable issue. Imagine all of your sense of pride and self-worth completely destroyed by another person. Like I wanted that broadcast all throughout Tulsa."

"Do you have a boyfriend now?"

"Yes I do." I smiled tightly. "And he’s wonderful. We just celebrated our six month anniversary two weeks ago."

"If it’s not too personal," the girl asked again. "Do you have sex? Will you get married some day?"

"It’s not too personal." My smile faded. "I don’t have a clue if we’ll get married, but if we do, then I don’t have my virginity to give to him. I won’t ever be able to show him how much I really do love him by letting him be my first."

"And no," I added uncomfortably. "We don’t have sex."

"So whatever happened to Justin?" Thank God the subject was changed.

"Well, the state won its case and he was sent to prison for three years."

"Did you ever go visit him?"

"No, actually." I replied with surprise, for that idea had never occurred to me. "I’d rather not see him for the rest of my life, thanks."

"Does anyone else have any more questions?" I asked, walking from the front of the classroom to the back, pausing where my biggest fan was still snoozing. With a flip of my foot, I pushed the desk in front of him away and watched as his feet flew to the floor and he shot forward in his seat.

"What the hell-" The boy sputtered as his stomach hit his desk in a rude awakening. The rest of the class erupted into giggles and snickers. Seeing no more comments, I knew my time was done.

"Good. I’m going to stick around for a few minutes if anyone has any questions they don’t want to ask me in front of the class."

As muted conversations filled the silence of the room, I walked back to the front to reclaim my videotape, crouching in front of the VCR to rewind it. Zac had made it for me while I was recovering in the hospital, a collection of the news reports concerning my 'reunion' with Justin last spring. Still, I couldn't argue with him not being allowed to see me again, whether it behind bars or not. However, I had better nights of sleep knowing that he was in prison, present nightmares aside. Who knows how I'd react if he weren't.

"Maggie?" A voice behind me interrupted my thoughts. I whirled around on my heels and glanced up. I smiled at the girl from the front row. It was always girls that approached me after lectures with questions or comments.

"What's up?" I asked her.

"Do you believe in God?" She asked me. I blinked at the seriousness she spoke with.

Another question I'd never been asked before. First time for everything, I guess.

"Yes, I do." I replied uncomfortably. "Do you mind if I ask why?"

"My father is a minister." She explained. "He told me that sex before marriage is a wicked sin and you'll go to hell if you do it."

"Woah.. " I rose to my feet and faced her. "Those are strong words. I firmly believe that things happen for a reason. Maybe the reason I was raped was so I could inform people about it, so I could try to make a difference in someone else's life other than mine."

"Do you think you'll go to hell for it though?" She asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

"I don't know." I smiled tightly at her. "I think that God knows, deep down, we're not perfect. I can only hope that he'll forgive me for my mistakes."

"So meeting Justin and everything was a mistake?" She frowned with confusion.

"Not necessarily." I quickly replied. "I didn't mean to imply that. Since I was so young, at the time I didn't understand that it was a bad situation I needed to get out of. I just waited too long because I was so confused. Remember, he was my boyfriend and I'd thought I'd loved him. I hope that clears up some things for you."

"It does.. sorta." She replied.

Now I know why I don't go to church. I sighed, watching her head back to her seat. Glancing at my watch, I groaned at the time. Alex was on her way over to my house in thirty minutes to work on our project and the last thing I wanted was to leave her there alone. Afterall, we had good china in the house. (Now if that's wasn't a judgmental statement if I ever made one.)

"Hey," I greeted the lack of a smile on Alex's face as I opened the front door and let her inside. Biting my lip, I was a little hesitant about her reaction to my house, figuring it fit perfectly into the stereotypical mold she'd figured right: she glanced around quickly and sighed loudly.

"Do you have a basement?" She ignored my greeting and got right to the point.

"Not really." I admitted.

"You have a huge-ass house but no basement?" She stared coldly at me with those violet eyes of hers. I shrugged in response.

"No.. " I thought for a moment. "We have an attic though."

"I guess that'll work." She replied sullenly. "You at least have a video camera, right?"

"That I know we have." I grabbed our camcorder and the blank tape I'd set aside in the living room and headed upstairs, Alex trailing behind me. Once we got to the second level, I turned a corner and walked to the end of the hall on our right. After we'd reached the dead end, I reached up and pulled down the set of stairs that led to the attic. I'd thought it was the neatest thing when I'd first moved here - like a little trap door on the ceiling. Obviously, it didn't impress Alex quite as much.

"It's musty up here." She claimed after following me up the stairs, wrinkling her nose at the stuffiness.

"Sorry for the mess," I apologized, nearly tripping over a stack of small boxes. The house had a peaked roof, which made the attic a very tiny, cramped space. I couldn't remember the last time any of us had cleaned it, although we piled more crap up here every spring.

"What's the matter?" She sneered. "Maid have the day off?"

"We don't have a maid." I turned and glanced cautiously at her. "Does this room work or not?"

"A basement would be better." Alex replied coolly. "But this is ok."

"Do you need me to move anything out of the way?" I asked, gesturing to the random piles of boxes and clothing all over. "Clear a space on the floor?"

"I kind of like it this way." She surprised me with that response. "It doesn't look like we did it on purpose."

"So what exactly did you have in mind for this?" I asked her, taking a seat on the floor. "I tried to think of something interesting and dramatic we could do, but didn't have much luck."

"I'll bet you did." She said with a snap, then bent down and pulled some papers out of her bad. "Don't worry about doing too much work, I wrote a script last night. All you have to do is read your lines."

"You wrote a script?" I took it front her. I hadn't expected her to take this project seriously, given her obvious disrespect toward me.

"Not good enough for you?" She sneered defensively.

"Actually.. " I glanced it over. "It's wonderful!"

"Oh.. " I think it was my turn to surprise her, for she looked a little lost for words for a few seconds. "Thanks."

"How long did it take you to write this?"

"About an hour, that's it." She shrugged. "It's only a ten-minute video."

"It's.. really good." I stared with amazement down at the words she'd scribbled down on the page. They were direct, yet poetic, sincere, yet.. dramatic. There was only one problem.

"Umm.. I hate to tell you this, Alex." I started, giving her a guilty smile. She immediately frowned.

"What?" She asked with exasperation, probably expecting criticism on her writing.

"I can't act worth shit."

"I didn't give you as many lines." She pointed out.

"So I noticed." I added. "And no one appreciates that more than me, but I seriously can't act."

"Why the hell would you take a theater class if you can't act?" She snapped. Before I could answer, she waved the conversation aside.

"Whatever. Just do the best you can so I can leave."

".. All right." I sighed. Trying to get these ten minutes down was going to take all afternoon. I had a sinking feeling that my partner wasn't going to be very patient about it either.

"I'm sorry, Alex. I'm just not good enough for you." I spoke blandly, stuttering on the last few words of the sentence as I read my lines. Her script was a heated argument between two people - a perfect subject between the two of us - but it obviously wasn't coming out that way.

"No, no, no." She sighed again. Reaching over, she shut off the camera. "It's useless to try taping it now. You really do suck, Maggie."

"I'm really sorry you got stuck working with me." I dropped my script and took a seat on the floor. An hour and forty-five minutes later and we hadn't gotten one single second of tape that we could present to the class. By now, with the dryness in the attic and me constantly repeating my lines, my voice cracked on nearly every other word.

Alex, on the other hand, was wonderful. Not just because she'd written it, but she spoke with such confidence and eloquence that I was humbled. She also didn't just stand there like a bump on a log with her knees knocking together, like me.

"Well, it wasn't my choice." She eyed me. "You're taking this class for fine arts, credit, aren't you?"

"Unfortunately, yeah." I replied.

"So why are you taking it a measly community college? Your parents could obviously afford to do better." I couldn't help but pick up the bitterness present in her voice as she spoke.

"They probably could, but I can't." I explained. "They don't pay for my education."

"Tough love?" She raised an eyebrow. I grinned and shook my head.

"Nope. I'm too stubborn. Technically, they're my step-parents, but I still wouldn't let them pay for me even if they tried."

"Wait - you're adopted?" She looked at me with wide eyes. I nodded again.

"My parents were killed when I was four. Car accident."

"I-I'm.. sorry." This was the first time I heard her voice soften. "I had no idea."

"Oh, don't feel sorry for me." I waved the thought away. "I don't remember much about them anyway."

"I can't imagine that."

"It was rough at the time, but it's been worse." Like six months ago, I grimaced at the thought. Realizing I was being a little selfish just talking about me, I changed the subject:

"What about you?"

"I live with my Dad, on the other side of town." She replied slowly, as if she were choosing her words carefully. "But he's rarely at home because he.. works all the time. I never see him."

"That must suck," I noticed how her face had changed, from the usual tough, hardened features she normally wore to a soft, almost wistful look in her eyes. Seconds later, the look was gone, hidden behind a mask of indifference again.

"Well, it's nice to live on your own." She scoffed. "Something I'm sure that you couldn't relate to."

"You'd be surprised." I replied coolly. "I lived with my grandmother and took care of her until I was thirteen, when she had a stroke and put me up for adoption. Karen and Gerald, my parents now, adopted me a few weeks later. If you don't mind me asking, what happened to your mom?"

"She walked away." was the only answer Alex gave me. Surprisingly, she didn't sound bitter about it, the one thing I felt she had justifiable reason to be bitter about.

"She left you?"

"And Dad. When I was born." As she nodded, several strands of her hair fell over her shoulders. As she brushed them back, she glanced up at me.

"Careful," I smiled with amusement. "We almost sound like friends here."

"Can't have that." She pretended to scowl. "We seriously need to get this done with though. I can't see any miracles of you being able to act in the next five minutes. Just stop trying to force yourself to sound a certain way and just let it happen."

"Just let it happen." I repeated. "I can do that."

One hour later..

"I thought we were f-friends." I muttered quietly.

"Louder," Alex hissed in interruption.

"I thought you knew and respected me." I raised my eyes to her and pretended to look mad. Instead, the only reaction I got was flaring my nostrils wide open.

Great, so I'll just look like a mad bull in front of the whole class, I thought, loosing my focus. It also made me loose my place in the script.

"I... I, umm.. Oh!" I remembered the next line. As I opened my mouth to speak, I caught sight of Alex hang her head and shake it back and forth.

"I guess I was just so damn wrong!" At the height of my excitement, my voice cracked and came out a squeak. A few seocnds later, she reached over and switched off the camera again, letting out a frustrated sigh.

"Alex, it's just not happening." I complained to her.

"I give up." She moaned. "You're hopeless."

"I told that in the beginning!" I replied in a whiny voice. "I've been trying as hard as humanly possible for the last two hours, but it's not good enough. We all can't be as perfect at this as you are."

"I'm the perfect one?" Apparently, the stress of this assignment was taking its toll on her as well, for she practically shreeched back at me. "Who's got the candy-ass boyfriend, the sugar-coated life, and a castle-sized house?"

"See what I mean?" I crossed my arms and glared at her. "You hate me so much for reasons that I can't control.. You're impossible to work with! Why don't you just kill me so you won't have to bother wasting your time with people who aren't as good as you?"

"Why don't I just-" She stopped in her sentence, her face breaking into a huge smile. It was a little alarming, given the face we were in the middle of an argument.

" That's a great idea!"

".. What?" I blinked in confusion. Every word I'd said had just poured our from the stress of trying so hard, not to mention getting less than stellar results.

"I'll kill you."

"I didn't think you hated me that much, Alex." I held up my hands in defense.

"In the video, dumb-ass." She replied, rolling her eyes. "It's dramatic and you won't have many lines to say. Just lie on the floor and don't move."

"I can do that!" I caught onto the spirit of things. This idea was perfect: just as strange as the idea of the two of us actually working together.