Delete-Man: A Psychological Thriller by Johnny Vineaux

green jacket’s phone, breaking phonebooth
guy’s nose, breaking Davy’s toy gun, locking Sewerbird on the roof
of that building, hurting Monika, burning that guy’s lap, trashing
Josephine’s room. I went through it all and hated myself as I
remembered each event. Then I thought about all the things people
had done to me, and I began to hate the world. I felt both angry
and pathetic. Weak and violent. Determined and confused.
    I cursed God, and begged him to
kill me in my sleep, to give me Josephine back, to answer my
questions, to make me someone else. I offered my soul to the devil,
and talked to the djinn. I made promises to the universe and broke
them in the same breath. Then I spoke to Josephine. I told her
everything and she understood it immediately. I imagined what she
might say, and what she might do. I imagined melting into her soft
green eyes. To the timbre of her voice I fell asleep again.

    A day in summer; I was in
Josie’s room, drinking beer. Her on the bed, me at the window.
    “Why did you do it, Joseph?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Yes you do.”
    “Because I’m a horrible
person.”
    “No you’re not.”
    “Yes I am. I’m a typical man. A
dog who can’t control himself.”
    “No.”
    “Yes. It’s true. I saw her and I
thought she was much sexier than you. She was skinnier than you,
dressed better than you, looked dirtier than you. I’m a dog.”
    I sucked down the rest of the
beer and sat at the desk, facing away from her.
    “I don’t believe that. You might
believe it, but I don’t.”
    “Why not?! What is wrong with
you?! I cheated on you, and you don’t even care.”
    “I do care, that’s why I’m still
here.”
    “I don’t understand you. Not at
all.”
    “So you want me to hate
you?”
    “At least I would understand
that.”
    “So tell me you don’t love me
then.”
    “I… I just don’t understand you.
Why don’t you hate me?”
    “Because you love me.”
    I turned to look at her. She was
sat on the edge of the bed, beer in hand. Looking through me.
    “Don’t you see what you’re
doing, Joseph?”
    “What?”
    “Same thing you do to everything
you love: Push it away.”
    “I don’t know.”
    “You’re so used to being
miserable, alone, having to fight; that you can’t handle being
happy, or enjoying your life.”
    “Maybe… Yeah, maybe. But I’ve
got good reason to.”
    “No you don’t.”
    “Yes! I do!”
    “No, you fucking well
don’t.”
    “Are you fucking blind, Josie!?
Look at me! Look at this!”
    I snatched off my shirt.
    “Look at this… stump! Why me?
That’s all I want to know. Why me? I’m deformed, I’m violent, I
have baggage, and I’m a pain. I’ve never done anything good in my
life. I cheated on you, and you’re still here. I never even
understood why you were here in the first place.”
    She got up and came towards
me.
    “No, don’t. Sit down. I don’t
want you to touch me. I don’t want you to comfort me, or make me
feel better. Just tell me one thing—that one thing, that reason
you’re with me.”
    I stood there, crying violently,
rooted to the spot as she walked over to the open window, and
jumped out.
    Two months in hospital, two
broken ribs, a broken collar bone and a broken femur. Severe head
and chest injuries. I stayed there every hour Vicky was at school,
and wheeled her home when she was well enough.

    “Wake uh-uh-up!”
    Vicky shook and prodded me
awake, but it still took a full minute before I remembered who I
was, where I was, what day it was, and what state I had gone to
sleep in.
    “Alright, alright. I’m up. Go
shower and get dressed.”
    “I already did.”
    “What time is it?”
    “Eight forty-nine.”
    I snapped up out of bed,
ignoring my body’s resistance.
    “Oh shit. Shit shit shit.”
    “I’m gonna be late!”
    I fell out of bed and checked
the time for myself.
    “Go make your lunch. I did the
shopping yesterday. There should be something in the fridge you can
take with