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“We’re sorry, Miss Pennywise, but it has to happen.”
I shook my head, “No, no, it does not. What did he do to you all? He didn’t do anything.”
“He worked for UGC, that’s all provocation we need,” Harry said, crossing his arms across his chest.
“I worked for UGC!” I hissed, pointing to myself with an aggression I hadn’t seen since the Stink Years.
“Yeah, but…” Hope giggled, “You’re my mom.”
I wanted to strangle both Hope and Harry just now. This was not where I wanted this day to go. Now we were plotting the murder of one of my adoptive sons. This is not what I wanted.
“And that’s your brother, Hope! God…” I huffed.
I’ve never wanted to kill someone more. And not the person they wanted me to kill. I should’ve just walked out right there.
And then I saw them. Ryder McQueen and Benjamin Billeaux. Strange. I never saw him with Benjamin. The two never seemed to like each other. Regardless, I felt my stomach churn inside of me. If I went through with this, I was going to throw up.
Hope began to strut towards McQueen to “talk with him.” I put an arm out to stop her, but my arm was forced down to my side by Soupy Sue, holding a ladle in her other hand. Sally latched onto one of my legs. Everyone smiled manically around us as Hope made it over to Ryder.
“Mother?” I heard him call out, obviously seeing me and Sally looking like the only 2 sane people and knowing something was wrong.
“Hello, Mr. McQueen,” Hope chirped, hands behind her back.
She rocked on her feet with an unhuman glee and whimsy in her tone and general body language that I just couldn’t comprehend. I couldn’t help but make a comparison to Isaac and Theo. Not even they had this much… happiness in them while they finished the job. Hope, on the other hand, had the tendency to just converse with anyone she thought had to go. It happened with her father. She couldn’t just send him off, no. She had to explain herself to him. As if he didn’t know what he did. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe that’s where Hope got it. The obliviousness. She thinks herself a saint and paints herself our savior, when we’re just as stuck as we were before. Just stuck with the illusion of betterment when really it’s only the perspective she gave us. The rivers have dried up so she presented us with a metaphor to ‘ease’ the ghost of water disintegrating from our throats. No one else seemed to catch on. But I certainly did. And I still am, as she proceeds to get worse.
I don't see it, I taste the river. It tastes like a wolf in sheep's clothing, a lie tailored to make us happy. It breaks us down little by little, unsuspectingly so we can't stop it before we go and become the river she sees. We see.
Ryder looked a little alarmed, if not outright scared by Hope. It didn't make it better when another poor rebel, Little Becky Two-Shoes, followed up behind them and grabbed Ryder from behind. He squirmed and struggled in the pregnant woman's grasp. I saw Benjamin carefully backing away.
Ryder tried to call out again, but was silenced by Billy Boy Bill, who put his dirtied hand over his mouth. Billy had never been the most hygienic man, as I'd seen while working at Amenity #9, so needless to say my nausea was not getting comforted, not one bit. It didn't help that Sally's grip on my leg completely dissipated, as she was now shutting her eyes and covering her ears, bracing herself for what she knew was happening. Poor girl was always too smart for her own good, which should have been a good thing. It was a good thing. But the wrong environment, surely.
I could see Ryder's fingers grow extremely tense and his hands turned almost white at the pressure put upon his arms. Sue's grip on my own arm still hadn't let up.
She leaned closer to my shoulder and whispered in my ear, “You either join us, or you join him.”
She let go of my arm with a shove forward. I rubbed my arm, turning back to Ryder to see the first strike. Tiny Tom had given a surprisingly strong blow to his stomach, which sent him attempting to stumble back, but he was forcibly held upright. I saw his ankle set itself wrong and I winced a bit myself, making me feel very guilty considering he was the one in pain. He was the one about to die. And I was the one supposed to be helping. At the twist of his ankle, I heard him let out a quiet cry of pain. My eyes caught his fingers jerking as if he wanted to touch his ankle to set it right, but he couldn't because of Becky and Billy's grips on his arms.
I turned around to see Harry, Sue and Robby, the only three who hadn't joined in yet. Sally, behind them, was shakily backing up, still covering her ears. I couldn't help but feel bad for her. She was only eight, and Ryder was her adoptive father, alongside Theodore. Theodore. How would I explain all this to Theodore? How would I explain that I had to take part of it? Maybe I just.. wouldn't tell him. I was sure he'd somehow find out for himself.
I snapped out of what must have been my third disassociation of this whole ordeal to see Harry walk out from behind me. I flinched back as he approached Ryder instead of doing anything to me. Harry neared Ryder. Part of my unconscious mind hoped he would just shove all the rebels to the side, help his brother, but I knew that wouldn't be what happened. I was right, I watched as Becky shoved Ryder to the ground and Harry placed his dirty boot on Ryder's back, unsettlingly close to his neck. Ryder’s face connected with the ground with a sickening crack, and as he lifted his head I could see the blood dripping from his nose. Any sane person could tell Harry was putting an insane amount of pressure on his poor brother, one could see how aggressive the creases in his shirt hugging the bottom of Harry's shoe were. Harry didn't care. His sadistic expression didn't let up when he saw helpless Ryder's gaze up towards a man he thought he could trust.
“Ha- Harry..?” Ryder's crackling murmur made its way to my ears, breaking my heart.
Any trust Ryder could have for any of his family would soon be long gone, and Harry and Hope's would be the first to leave him. The rebel drew his leg back for what I knew would make an uncomfortable sound for me and a lasting pain to Ryder for what would be the rest of his unfortunate life. I shut my eyes tightly, hearing a resonating crunch that made me vigorously bite down on my tongue, and I tasted blood that Ryder could surely hear, see, feel, and smell as well all over his body. I opened my eyes to see Ryder's head laying on the ground. He couldn't have been dead already. Sure enough, his head lifted. His glasses had been sent flying across the ground, landing at my feet. Harry looked at me expectantly, which made me feel sick inside once more.
Against my own will and judgement, I gently leaned down to pick up Ryder's glasses. I closed them and handed them to Harry, who plastered that everlasting brutal grin across his face. He was like a child. A sick, young boy. I almost felt bad for him until I turned to look at Ryder once more. Hope and Harry truly were the new Lockstock and Barrel. Their method of execution was more intense than the preceding cops. When I was less experienced than I was now, throwing one off a building seemed very brutal. But this is pure psychopathic. This, I wouldn't expect from a professional serial killer. And yet it was coming from two of my own children. To another.
The rebels cheering and celebrating filled me with a feeling I hadn't felt in a long time. Hate. Hate, and resentment. The two emotions I rarely ever felt, even for Caldwell. I clenched my fists and gritted my teeth, hoping Ryder knew I didn't support this at all. What could he know, right now? All he knew was likely shattered just like his nose and his glasses.
Harry gently lifted Ryder's face to lay his glasses atop his newly misshapen nose. Ryder's eyes were tired and sad now. The fear that had once inhabited those eyes had gone, and were replaced by these emotions and pure mistrust. He opened his mouth to say something to Harry, but couldn't quite force the words to make it farther out of his body than his throat.
Sue shoved me forward again, “Go on, Miss Pennywise. Finish the job.”
The last words echoed in my head. The job. This was my job? I hated my actual job, forcing disgusting people to pay with money that usually wasn't even a form of actual currency just to use the restroom because some dipshit capitalist decided the best form of water consumption was cash. Piles and piles of cash.
Some water beaded on my face. Tears? Sweat? Who knows? Who cared?
I took anticipated steps towards Harry and Ryder. Becky, Billy, and now Robby stood Ryder up, back to his feet. He hunched over. The blood stained his once white dress shirt. It dropped from his nose.. from his head.. from his arms because of the unkempt fingernails of the rebels holding him. Harry stepped to the side, revealing me to Ryder.
Ryder looked up at me, a sight almost like relief seemed to cloud his eyes, “Mother…?”
I didn't move. I couldn't. I froze. I couldn't do this, not to my own child. I'd known Ryder for years, I couldn't just end him right here. To go along with this… to think I had already slain his husband and assisted in the death of his brother. How could I live with myself?
Ryder noticed my lack of doing anything, particularly my lack of helping him, and he croaked, “Mother…? Mama..?”
The second, and likely final word I heard him say struck me directly where it hurt. My chest heaved, my heart spun. Everyone was looking at me. I didn't like this. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to trade places with my poor, beaten son who stood in front of me.
Finish the job.
He closed his eyes for a moment, and I did too, for a moment just to connect with him once more.
SLAM!
I opened my eyes to see who punched him this time. Ryder stared at me with sadness and disbelief. I felt something on my fist and I realized it was blood. I punched him. A small, but important addition to the assistance in the murder of Ryder McQueen. He was staring at me, Benjamin was staring at me, Hope and Harry were staring at me but they were proud. Ryder and Benjamin looked like they now wanted nothing at all to do with me and I knew they were right. I wouldn't, either. The water on my face was certainly tears, I had come to grips with reality.
Ryder was shoved to the ground again and I heard another nauseating crack as he landed on his wrist. He let out a loud wail at the feeling that he hadn't done for the rest of the pain. He took his wrist out from beneath him, it was strangely bent now.
“Oh, shut up,” Sue finally joined the beat down, kicking him in the now-broken wrist.
He hollered again, slowly turning to look up at me again. I didn't know how he could manage. His expression didn't symbolize any relief anymore. It was fear. A fear that sunk its way into my blood that I hoped would soon spill like I made his.
“...Mama…?” His voice was nothing more than an attempt at a whisper. I could barely make it out from the hustle of the small crowd surrounding him. His voice was all I cared about right now.
“I'm sorry… oh, my darling, I'm so sorry…” I weeped, stepping unsteadily away from the crowd.
I couldn't handle it anymore. I watched on a little longer to see the final blow, a kick straight to his head. The sound and the sight combined made me fall to the ground. I had never been much of an empath. It seems, only physically, I was. I sat myself up, burying my face into my bloodied hands to sob. The blood covering my hands–physically and metaphorically–was from only one punch to his face. That's what they'd done to him, that's how bad it was. I couldn't forgive the rebels. I couldn't forgive myself.
Hope and Harry–the last people I wanted to see right now–approached me.
Hope kneeled down, placing a hand on my back, to coo, “Mom, it's–”
I cut her off by shoving her back, watching her fall to the ground in a way that brought me an almost sadistic pleasure.
I stood up and towered over the fearful girl, “You monster. You monster. How could you arrange this? How could you endorse this? You signed off on it. You're just like your father. If I had anything to say about it, I'd say you're worse. Your brother, Hope!”
Hope cowered beneath me, “I- I didn't- I just- I only-”
“No! Zip it. Save your disgusting, lying breath for someone else who's once again too gullible and desperate to listen. Well I'm not. I'm grown.”
Hope stared up at me in shock as I began to walk off.
“It's time you were too, Ms. Cladwell.”