Oliver Brighton had been a great student.
He'd been on the honor all throughout grade school, he'd been class valedictorian and he'd been so well put together that even Wyatt Bloom had been kind to him on the few occasions they interacted, which was surprising as Wyatt often had a habit of making fun of some of the more academically gifted students. Oliver had always been helpful, considerate, compassionate. He'd started an animal rights group at their high school, he'd courted his future wife in such ways that made her friends jealous, and he was often employee of the month at his yogurt job in college. So how does a man like that turn around and kill his entire family? Well, it's hard to pinpoint the exact spot where things started going downhill, but for Oliver, it was fairly easy to know. Contrary to popular belief about people who just snap, it was never a specific moment. He'd always been a monster in the closet. *** "Okay, fair enough. What should I do?" Oliver asked, following he as she started to walk back to the group of men. "Find another job," she said, which stopped him in his tracks. "Wh...what?" he asked. "I'm sorry, Oliver, but this is too big to ignore," Melinda said, "I have to deal with this. You're fired. Not my orders." And with that she turned away and headed off to deal with the men. Oliver stood there, staring at the sight, aware his world was crumbling around him. Oliver turned and slowly walked back to his car. He got in, shut the door behind him and just stared at the sight in front of him. He felt rage building inside him. Everything he'd built up for himself, in a legitimate career, had suddenly come to an abrupt end. Oliver reached to the glovebox and opened it, looking at the handgun in it, then shut the glovebox and started the car. He then started the car, and started to drive away. He didn't know where he was going. All he knew was that he needed to drive. He had this burning sensation in the pit of his stomach like he'd swallowed a bucket of lava. He had always been perfect, had a spotless track record, and now he was going to be seen as a screwup, a failure, a giant liability. Forget ever getting work with any other companies, because after hearing about this, there was no way in hell anyone would hire him. Oliver pulled over to a local bar and grill and parked, then got out and walked inside. He seated himself at a table in the back, ordered a basket of steak nachos and a light beer. He sat and ate and drink, and just thought. He thought about his options, and eventually came to the realization that he only had one. And it could be solved with the gun in his glove compartment. *** "Girls, get your things together," Roberta said as she walked into the bedroom, seeing her daughters quickly packing. She stood in the doorway and watched momentarily, then added, "remember you don't have to take everything, okay? Clothes and shoes and stuff we can buy more of. Just pack the things that mean the most to you, alright? I'll carry it all out once you're done, just come get me." Robert turned and walked briskly down the hall, back to her bedroom, continuing to pack herself. She'd waited for this day for so long. She'd planned it to a tee. She'd finally be leaving her husband and his monstrous behavior behind for good, and she'd be taking her kids and going to her brothers house a few states away. Her husband wouldn't even know where to find her, and that was all that she wanted. Once out and unencumbered, she knew she could muster up the strength and energy necessary to start filing divorce proceedings. Whether she'd go beyond that, talk to the police about his behavior, remained to be seen. Robert's first and foremost goal was to get her daughters to safety. She heard a door open, and she groaned, tossing her dress down on top of the suitcase and heading back into the hall. "Girls, don't try and take that stuff out yourselves, alright? I can-" She stopped in the hall. Standing there was Oliver, his presence shocking her as he was supposed to be at work. Roberta tugged gently on her pearl necklace, grimacing. "What are you doing home?" she asked. "I got fired," Oliver said, "For something I didn't even do, or couldn't prevent. You going somewhere?" "I just thought I'd take the girls to my parents for the weekend, so we could spend some time alone," Roberta said, lying through her teeth, "You know, just have some private time like we used to." "That sounds nice," Oliver said, slowly walking down the hallway. It was then that Roberta noticed the gun in his hand. She tensed up and tried not to draw attention to her nervousness, pulling her eyesight away from the gun in his hand. Oliver stopped in front of the bedroom door and looked at it. He pushed the door open a little and reached inside, grabbing their oldest daughter who was 7 by the hair, and dragging her out into the hall, putting the gun to the side of her head. "Oliver, what-" "I could make sure we have alone time forever, if that's what you'd prefer," he said, "I provided for this family, and you're trying to leave? After all I've given you?" "What have you given us besides PTSD?" Roberta asked, immediately regretting her snark, "I'm sorry, that was wrong of me. I just...let her go, okay? Let her go, and let's go and talk about things. I know things haven't been good for a while, but the girls have nothing to do with that. They're tired, Oliver, they're tired of everything you make them do, and I think it's only fair we let them go live with my family and I'll...I'll get a job, okay? That'll cover whatever monetary loss we take and-" "You think whatever you make would even come close to what the girls manage to bring in?" Oliver asked, sighing, then releasing his grip on his daughters hair, "go on, go to your mother." As she started walking quickly down the hall, tears in her eyes, Roberta opened her arms wide to embrace her. Oliver sniffled, raised the handgun and put five bullets into the back of his daughter. Roberta felt like the entire world stopped. She dropped to her knees and wanted to scream, but nothing came out of her. Suddenly she saw their younger daughter, only 4, standing at the doorway to her bedroom, hugging a stuffed animal tightly to her chest. Oliver looked from Roberta to the girl, raised the gun again and pulled the trigger. One shot, clean through the head. Roberta crumpled to the floor. She felt Oliver walked towards her, grab her by the hair and drag her down the hallway back to their bedroom. She didn't even care anymore what he might do to her, because for Roberta Brighton, her world was already over. *** Abuse begets abuse, or at least that's the theory many subscribe to anyway. If you're abused as a child, you're likely going to abuse others as an adult. But this isn't actually the case. Surprisingly, more often than not, the abused go the opposite route, and wind up becoming the most empathetic and considerate people you could hope to meet, almost going out of their way to make sure those around them are okay. They never want someone to go through what they went through. Oliver Brighton came from a normal home with a normal loving family. He never suffered any kind of abuse of any sort from anyone anywhere. Even at school he was left relatively alone, despite being on the dorkier side of things. His mother and father lauded praise onto him, and Oliver was the highlight of his family. But that didn't mean Oliver Brighton was going to grow up to be a good man. When he started dating, he'd come off as a relatively clean cut nice guy, the sort of guy your folks would almost be thrilled to have their daughter romance, but behind closed doors, Oliver Brighton was a sick and twisted individual. He hurt these women, sexually and otherwise. Sometimes he'd just be angry, and sometimes it'd be to get his rocks off. Oliver Brighton, despite looking like someone who'd have the demeanor of someone who writes computer code for a living instead had a violent temper, one that he couldn't control, nor would he want to. He liked making the women he knew hurt. He liked making them cry. And his daughters...the things he did to them... When Roberta Falls first met him, her best friend said something about the guy seemed off, but Roberta defended him day in and day out, saying that nobody saw who he actually was the way she did. Far too many women have unfortunately been lulled into this exact sense of false security, and often met with violent ends themselves. Roberta, after a year of being married, decided her friend was right, and she no longer wanted to play house with this creep, but Oliver had other plans. Roberta didn't want to have children, but she didn't have a choice. Oliver made it happen. And once the children were in play, she knew she couldn't leave. She knew she'd forever be tied to him in some form or fashion, and that sickened her. So Roberta stayed, and she plotted, trying to come up with some way she could get out. When she finally made the decision, and began asking her brother for help, she knew her life was about to change for the better. No longer would the girls be subjected to the awful torture their father put them through, and really it was their pain that she couldn't allow. She didn't care what he did to her, but she'd die before she allowed him to continue to exploit her daughters. Turns out she was half right. *** Oliver sat on the bed, undoing his tie as he looked down on the floor at Roberta, curled up and sobbing. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I tried to give you the best," he said, "and-" "Oh spare me," she replied, knowing she no longer had anything to lose so why hold back her tongue, she continued, "don't give me that underappreciated good husband bullshit. What you did to me, what you did to our children...god...you're despicable, and the fact you're trying to play victim only makes it worse." Oliver looked at his tie in his hands and sighed, turning it over. "Remember when you got me this tie? For our 5th anniversary?" he asked, "...I love this tie. You really knew me, you really knew what I'd like. I thought we knew eachother, but I guess I was wrong. I guess I didn't know you as well as I thought, because I never could've imagined you'd try to run. Now this tie will be tainted." "...what?" Roberta asked, finally trying to roll over and look up at him, but she wasn't fast enough as she felt his knees crush into her spine as he knelt on her, wrapped the tie around her throat, his hands grabbing both ends, as he started to strangle Roberta. She clawed at his hands, but she couldn't make any difference. She knew she was overpowered. "You did this," Oliver whispered through gritted teeth, "you did all of this and this is all your fault. I want you to die knowing you caused this." Roberta drowned him out as he eyes rolled back. She stopped listening, and instead focused on the one good thing she had...her religious belief. She knew that, as soon as her life was over, she would be with her girls again, and that was the thought she died with. As soon as her body went limp, Oliver rolled off of her and started sobbing. He crawled across the floor and sat next to the closet. All he wanted was a family who would obey him, and instead he got people willing to risk everything to leave. Oliver Brighton reached over, grabbed the handgun and pulled it to him, lifting it and opening his mouth. He slipped the barrel in, said a prayer, then pulled the trigger. *** Wyatt locked the car and walked around to the other side, finding Celia; he threw his arms up and asked, "what's the big deal now?" but she wouldn't answer, and instead she headed inside. Wyatt didn't question, he just followed. Once inside, she stopped at the bar, snapped her fingers and asked for the remote control to the TV, which she was quickly given. "Hey! Earth to Celia! What's the big damn deal?" Wyatt asked, but she snapped her fingers in his face and then pointed at the television. Wyatt's gaze slowly moved towards the television, which was on a breaking news report. A lovely little home in a quiet little suburb was on the television, surrounded by cop cars. Wyatt didn't recognize the place, but he had an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach. "-if you're just joining us," the announcer said as Celia turned the sound up, "then allow me to reiterate this breaking news. Local resident Oliver Brighton, safety inspector for the Morgana landscaping and construction company, is dead. It's speculated that Brighton, after a recent incident at their latest work site cost him his job, came home wherein he killed his wife and both daughters before taking his own life. As of this moment, there's not a lot of information about-" Celia muted the TV and looked at Wyatt, his jaw hanging. He slowly looked at her, and their eyes locked. "...what the fuck did we do?" she whispered. From the parking lot, a car horn beeped, and Wyatt could hear Mona shouting. "Daddy! I'm gonna be late for school!" Wyatt slumped onto a barstool and stared at the bowl of mixed nuts. He couldn't feel anything in his body anymore, and Celia sat beside him. The two sat there for what felt like hours, but were only mere seconds. He heard the car horn honk again, and the bartender looked out the window, then approached Wyatt. "Hey man, your kid is beeping your horn," he said. "Y...yeah, thanks," Wyatt said, waving him away. "...this is our fault," Celia whispered, "we caused this to happen. What we did...those poor little girls...that poor woman..." "We had no way of knowing," Wyatt said, "Hell, we didn't even know Oliver was employed by them. We couldn't have fucking predicted this." Wyatt finally stood up and composed himself, then pulled his car keys out of his coat pocket. "Where are you going?" Celia asked, following him. "I'm taking my daughter to school," Wyatt said, "and then I'm gonna find a way out of this mess." As they exited back into the parking lot, Celia couldn't believe he was just leaving. She stood there, mouth somewhat agape as he unlocked his car, climbed back inside the drivers seat and slid the key into the ignition, just as another car suddenly veered into the lot, almost hitting his. He climbed out, ready to yell at the driver, when he noticed the driver was, in fact, Rachel Minnow. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked. "I saw your car and I knew we should talk," she said, "ya know, about Oliver." "What the hell is she talking about?" Celia asked. "I know what you guys did, Wyatt came to me, asking me for an explosive to erase evidence," Rachel said, "obviously we failed to do that. I was at work and I had to suddenly leave and I heard about this on the car radio. What are we gonna do?" The three of them stood around, completely uncertain of what decision to make here would be. That was until a bus passed by on the road, with a big banner endorsing Robert Grudin, and suddenly Wyatt had an idea. "...Wyatt?" Rachel asked, "What are we gonna do?" Wyatt smirked and looked at Celia, then Rachel. "I'll tell you what we're gonna do," he said, "we're gonna kill Robert Grudin."
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A group of former high school classmates reunite at their 10 year reunion, and discover they each want something different, many with someone else there. What ensues is a labyrinthian relationship amongst them involving crime, murder, romance and, in one particular case, terrorism. Archives
May 2024
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