sick.chick.emma: i can’t do it :’( he’ll never stop

gothic_butterfly1: that shouldn’t happen to anyone... ever.

sick.chick.emma: people have gone 2 jail 4 less

gothic_butterfly1: did you threaten him? 

sick.chick.emma: with what, killing myself? 

gothic_butterfly1: yes, like we talked about. 

sick.chick.emma: no. he’d like it... he’d molest my dead rotting body

another hotel, the fifth in three months. new york this time.

in addition to her usual makeup, jules wore blue tights under a pair of trevor’s black boxers and his favorite bra with the purple trim. she laid face-up across the foot of the king-sized bed. her laptop sat on her chest and illuminated her face with a violet glow. bars of pink text ran the length of the screen; “gothic_butterfly1” was her pseudonym.

“’my dead rotting body.’ i love it!” trevor wore green boxers, a wife-beater, a valet cap, and a plastic name-tag that read “stanley” in capital letters. he sat on the floor, used the bed as a backrest, and watched the conversation unfold on his own computer. when his head moved, his hair tickled jules’ waist.

a new message from emma:

sick.chick.emma: i want 2 kill mark...

“we’re so close,” jules said. “say something awful.”

“sure thing, boss,” trevor replied with a tip of his hat and typed in the chat room under the screen name, “00sexboy00.”

00sexboy00: yourself. kill YOURSELF. stupid bitch got what u deserve.

jules typed her next message:

gothic_butterfly1: leave her alone, sexboy. she’ll do it when she’s ready.

trevor groaned. “it’s been three nights of this shit.”

“two minutes, baby,” jules said. “two minutes and i’ll have her addy.”

sick.chick.emma: i cant do it alone

gothic_butterfly1: nobody wants to do it alone, emma. have you thought more about the idea of a pact?

sick.chick.emma: i dont know. r u still thinking about it 2?

gothic_butterfly1: it’s all i ever think about. your step-dad... my boyfriend... we can’t let them treat us like shit anymore. this is our only way out.

trevor asked, “what’s wrong with your boyfriend?” he twisted his neck to face jules with a pout and emerald puppy eyes.

she tilted her head and kissed him. “you taste like butter.”

“it’s the lobster.”

“you know that thing used to be alive?”

“fish don’t feel pain, dork.”

“lobsters aren’t fish.”

trevor slurped more butter from his thumb. “but you gotta love room service!” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a snickers bar.

“seriously?” jules said. “that’s disgusting.”

he noshed half the bar in one bite, then tipped his hat, smiled with chocolate-stained teeth, and turned back to his computer. for a twenty-seven-year-old, trev could be such a child.

a new message appeared in the room: 

john-ff7 has joined the chat.

“asian-john signed on,” trevor said.

“i see him,” jules replied.

*  *  *

john-ff7 has joined the chat.

gabe scanned the new text on his computer screen and smiled. between the constant talk of death, depression and loneliness in the suicide chat room, john was a breath of fresh air. whenever the guy joined the chat, gabe stopped watching the drama from the sidelines and piped up.

he zipped his fingers across the keys, pressed return, and watched his message appear:

dante_fire18: johhhhn! what’s up my brotha?

00sexboy00: look who it is! asian-john! whats up asian-john?

“sexboy,” gabe muttered to himself, “such a dick.”

john didn’t respond to either greeting. the last time they talked online was saturday evening when john encouraged gabe to give the invitation to rose and gabe encouraged john to live another day.

he dipped a cracker in a smudge of peanut butter and ate it. he took another cracker, leaned over his computer desk, slipped it through the vertical metal bars, and dropped it in edgar’s food dish. (gabe was aware that poe wrote about a RAVEN and not a CROW, but the name “edgar” fit his pet’s personality so he ignored the technicality.)

edgar hopped around his floor-to-ceiling cage and snatched the cracker in his beak.

“enjoy it, little man,” gabe said.

his bedroom layout was defined in the darkness by dusky patches of light. a desk lamp and computer screen created the amber aura at his workspace, spilling just enough light to catch the sheen of edgar’s feathers and the bars of the cage. broken moonlight spilled through the second-story windows on both sides of his desk. a digital projector was mounted to the ceiling above his head and threw a mirrored image of his computer screen on the far wall; the image of chat-room text was as tall as the bedroom and more than eleven feet wide. bounced light from the projector touched the foosball table on the right, the bookshelves on the left, and the couch--separating the desk from the massive screen--in the center.

gabe watched his bird peck the cracker, then swiveled in his aeron chair and refocused on the chat between emma and butterfly.

“gothic butterfly” wanted to kill herself. she talked about suicide pacts every night since gabe stumbled into the room three weeks ago. now she was determined to find a partner in death despite gabe’s pleas to reconsider.

the conversations gabe witnessed in this digital world almost made him wish he had a reason to kill himself too. if he could understand that darkness, he would be a better artist.

he bit another cracker in half and typed again.

dante_fire18: john? you here? i have good news!

*  *  *

“where the hell is asian-john?” trevor asked.

jules was transfixed on her screen. “don’t know, don’t care. we’re so close to emma...”

john_ff7: hey dante... sup sexboy...

“woo hoo! there he is,” trevor said and typed back.

00sexboy00: hey there asian-john! emmas PMSing again

sick.chick.emma: i am not

00sexboy00: her dads touchin her cunny again

“you know i hate that word,” jules said.

“if you don’t like the way i talk, don’t read my messages!”

gothic_butterfly1: men are assholes. shut up and die, sexboy.

dante_fire18: john! john john john! i’m goin on a date with rose :) i gave her the invitation in class tonight. looked like she might say no, but then she said yesss.

“who’s rose?” trevor asked.

“girl in dante’s photography class. he’s obsessed.”

“drama.” trevor gestured two thumbs down, then stuck out his tongue and made a farting noise.

“grow up.” she smacked him on the side of the head.

“watch the cap!” he said and readjusted the green hat.

“that’s sick. and take off his name-tag too.”

trevor straightened the plastic rectangle pinned to his chest. “it’s a trophy!”

john_ff7: doesn’t matter dante...... someday you’ll see that it just doesn’t matter.......

dante_fire18: umm, hell yeah it matters! i might finally get a giiirl.

john_ff7:dante.... tonights the night........ 

“oh shit,” trevor said. “is he gonna do it?”

“calm down. see what he says.”

“oh shit! he’s gonna do it!”

dante_fire18: tonight’s the night for what john? 

00sexboy00: when the devil calls!

gothic_butterfly1: you still there emma? talk to me honey. 

john_ff7: IM SO FUCKKIN SICK OF THIS THSESE PEOPLE THIS SJOB THAT BOSS AND MY UCKING SHRIKN

dante_fire18: hey man, calm down. you’re not going to do anything crazy tonight. 

00sexboy00: prove it fool! set up the cam 

gothic_butterfly1: emma? sexboy, shut the hell up!

dante_fire18: stop sexboy. john, you’re not going to do it tonight. okay?

gothic_butterfly1: emma, give me your address honey. you don’t have to be alone.

a new box appeared; live video of a japanese man with a yellow rope in his hands.

trevor’s fist shot in the air. “we’ve got web feed on asian-john!”

*  *  *

“oh, buddy. not tonight.” gabe’s back stiffened and he leaned forward in his chair. the video was crystal clear on his monitor and the wall behind him. john’s eyes were swollen. he was shirtless. this wasn’t the first time he spoke of suicide--this was a suicide chat room after all--but gabe always managed to calm him down and he could do it again tonight.

dante_fire18: hey, why don’t talk on the phone? screw the crazy bill.

00sexboy00: tonights the night to catch the bus john! u been crying u pussy? ur slanty eyes are all red

john squeezed them shut and nodded.

gabe wanted to reach a hand through the monitor to comfort his friend. but all he could do was type.

dante_fire18: how bout it man? huh? show me your phone buddy.

gothic_butterfly1:emma? you’re still online. talk to me, hon.

00sexboy00: i don’t believe youll do it

john looked down and his hair filled the window. gabe could hear faint clicks of a keyboard as his friend typed his next message.

john_ff7: yellow nylon rope. a centimeter thick. just like you said sexboy.

00sexboy00: im proud of u asian-john

john turned away from the camera and paced a circle in his bare white bedroom. he was naked. his arms clutched the rope to his chest. even on the webcam, it was clear he was trembling.

gabe held his cellphone with one hand and flipped through his sketchbook with the other. “come on, come on. where are you...”

he found it; a fifteen-digit number scrawled in his own blocky penmanship.

dante_fire18: i’m calling you john. pick up your fucking phone.

*  *  *

“where’s his dick?” trevor asked and cackled so hard that he nearly choked on the candy bar.

a phone rang in john’s video.

“dante is actually calling him,” jules said. she watched the naked man set the rope on his bed. he marched toward the computer and his face filled the screen. he looked directly in the camera--at jules, at trevor, at a dozen other spectators--and he stammered with a heavy japanese accent, “i’m sorry gabe.”

“well,” trevor said, “now we know dante’s real name.”

“don’t encourage john. the poor guy lives in japan.”

trevor typed:

00sexboy00: do it do it do it do it do it 

“asshole,” she said.

gothic_butterfly1: john, don’t do it like this. we had everything prepared.

dante_fire18: JOHN, PICK UP YOUR PHONE

on the video, john lifted his phone and silenced the ringer. he turned around, opened his nightstand drawer, and removed a hammer. 

trevor said, “seriously, this guy has no dick.”

john pulled a chair to the middle of the room, climbed up, slammed the hammer into the ceiling, and turned his head from raining plaster.

“i’m not watching this.” jules ran her fingers through her wig. “damnit emma. we were so close.”

the hole in john’s ceiling was large enough to access the rafter. he tossed the yellow rope around the wood and tied a knot. a loop was already formed at the other end. he placed the noose around his head and pulled it tight. he tested the slack with a gentle tug, then looked to the webcam from across the room.

trevor’s fingers punched the same five keys in rapid succession.

00sexboy00: do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it

*  *  *

gabe stood and leaned forward; his wet eyes only an inch from the pixilated video.

john rocked the chair beneath his feet.

“please don’t.”

the chair tipped. john dropped and his neck snapped.

“NO!” gabe cried and turned away, but the projector still mirrored the computer and john’s naked body was convulsing--life-sized--on the bedroom wall.

gabe threw his cellphone at the vile image and it shattered.

*  *  *

trevor’s arms were in a victory pose.

jules exhaled a pillow of oxygen in a drawn hiss. it wasn’t the most fucked-up thing she’d seen, but it was the most unnecessary.

john’s body stopped shaking. the rope made an audible creek as the cadaver settled. would the webcam remain on until someone found him?

jules typed:

gothic_butterfly1: holy shit... 

trevor’s arms flew back to his keyboard.

00sexyboy00: beautiful!!!! that guy did what all u pussies dream about!

dante_fire18 has left the chat.

“poor gabe...” jules was about to exit the chat too, but a new message stopped her.

sick.chick.emma: butterfly? 

“hey,” jules whispered to trevor. “she’s back.” she carefully pressed the letters as if too much noise would scare the girl away.

gothic_butterfly1: yeah emma?

jules held her breath, and emma responded:

sick.chick.emma: i live in west elsdon. chicago, il. im ready for a pact.