CCLaP Weekender, April 24th 2015

your files for me. I apologize, but it’s important for me to know these things, whether you feel comfortable sharing them or not.” With the looming figure of James somewhere over my right shoulder, I said, “So you agree to do this?”

She did.

In the morning, Mark had me brought to his office. I’m sure I looked exhausted.

We’d been awake much of the night preparing. Kate would have to appear to have died by hanging. We imagined Mark would immediately become hysterical with some kind of egocentric emotion, how this tragedy was now affecting him or something. There was nothing in his character or professional background to suggest otherwise. Ideally, Kate’s suicide would put him in some kind of catatonic state. If not, a coma would have to be induced and that’s where the real planning was required. I needed the proper dosage of barbiturate, which would likewise need to be stolen from the commune’s medical ward without arousing anyone’s suspicions. If we were careful, we’d be able to inject Mark without him even realizing we were responsible. I imagined James’s arms would do the trick, coming in from a fair distance away and stabbing him. It’d be better if he were unable to speak or respond, perhaps carrying that stupid guitar of his, ready to play a song or two, completely unsuspecting. When he’d awake, I’d read him Kate’s “suicide note,” which would make it clear that no one but Mark was responsible, specifically invoking the ill-treatment she endured by being forced to watch as her sister showed no concern about her disappearance. So much of the commune was already, really, in my own control. It was necessary to make Mark understand this. Then we’d see about what to do next.

“After all that I’ve done, Myrna? All the positive strides we made together?” Mark said. He didn’t seem very upset, which bothered me more than having been found out. He continued, “I suppose this was all for the best. You have a good friend in Kate. She revealed your plans. She’s worried about you. I’m sending you to the medical ward, to talk things over with some of our specialists there. I think it will help you a lot. This could get to the root of your problem, in fact.” He turned. “Kate, will you come out here?

Tell Myrna how concerned you are.”

Kate stepped out from behind one of the plants in Mark’s office, an especially large rubber tree that had, to that point, concealed her very well.

She was entirely white. She knew. There was no stopping me.

“I know I feel better. And why? Because we’re addressing the problem,” Mark said, believing the discussion was, and so too the situation, concluded.

That night, he found the body of Kate hanging in her dorm room. He was smiling, as usual. He thought we’d gone through with the plan as we originally planned, but Kate was not acting. And when he realized this, James April 24, 2015 | 23