Brightside Read online

  BRIGHTSIDE

  MARK TULLIUS

  Published by Vincere Press

  65 Pine Ave., Ste 806

  Long Beach, CA 90802

  BRIGHTSIDE

  Copyright © 2012 by Mark Tullius

  All rights reserved.

  For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to Permissions, Vincere Press, 65 Pine Avenue Ste. 806, Long Beach, CA 90802

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters and events portrayed in this book are either fictitious or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First eBook edition July 2012

  eISBN: 978-1-938475-01-6

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2012936980

  Cover design by Salvatore Lo Medico – www.onesheetstudios.com

  and Florencio Ares [email protected]

  Book cover photo by William Dudziak. ©William Dudziak, http://www.dudziak.com

  Davidian

  Words and Music by Robb Flynn, Logan Mader, Adam Duce and Chris Kontos

  Copyright © 1994 by Universal Music – MGB Songs and Machine Headache Publishing

  All Rights Administered by Universal Music – MGB Songs

  International Copyright Secured All Rights Reserved

  Reprinted by Permission of Hal Leonard Corporation

  For Jen and Olivia, who make the bright side so easy to see.

  And to my dearly missed friend who wasn’t able to.

  “Let freedom ring with a shotgun blast!”

  Machine Head

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  SINCERE THANKS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  COMING SOON

  EXCERPT FROM 25 PERFECT DAYS

  EXCERPT FROM REPACKAGED PRESENTS

  CONNECT ONLINE

  THE MUSIC BEHIND BRIGHTSIDE

  CHAPTER ONE

  They call us Thought Thieves, but it’s not like we have a choice. All the sick, twisted things rolling around in people’s heads, we can’t help but hear. God knows I’ve tried to turn it off. The sexual perversions, the violent fantasies about your boss, that annoying neighbor you want dead, even those unfortunate thoughts about your kids. I’ve had to stand there and listen.

  I’d never wish this upon anyone, not even my mom, the woman who’s been over-sharing since I slid from her womb.

  You wouldn’t believe the awful shit I’ve heard.

  Imagine if you knew every dark thought people had about you.

  Trust me, it’s not pleasant. In any given moment, the person you love is thinking about someone else she’d like to screw, how fat you’ve gotten, how unbearable it is to hear you chew. Later, she’ll hold you and kiss you and regret most of it, and you’ll fall asleep hating yourself for having all the same thoughts.

  Secrets keep the world from burning. I know this now more than ever. The secret I have left could get everyone killed. One person’s already dead, more are sure to follow. All because I couldn’t keep my stupid thoughts shut.

  So I understand why they rounded us up, Thought Thieves like me, and took us to this little town on top of a mountain with drops so steep there’s no need for a fence. It keeps the country functioning, lets everyone feel safe, knowing we’re up here in the sky, far away from everyone’s thoughts, except our own.

  They call our town Brightside because, as they like to remind us, things could be worse. Some Thought Thieves weren’t so lucky. They were beaten and hanged, shot in the streets. Others were wrapped in straightjackets and locked away in squishy-walled rooms.

  Brightside was our chance to start over. We could hold jobs and have apartments; we could even go on dates and shop in the little stores. It wouldn’t be so bad, they told us. As long as we never tried to leave.

  But now it’s Day 100, the day it’s all going to end. Guess we’ll find out how bad it can get.

  My bedroom window’s right in front of me, but I’ve got my eyes closed. The warm glow of the sunrise is trying to make me peek, but I can’t look at the jagged crack running down the center of the glass. I can’t look at the pool of blood on the chair, the tiny drops on the ceiling.

  Eight pounds of power rest across my thighs. My Mossberg 12-gauge. American metal. Dad’s special gift.

  Odds are this is my last sunrise. I open my eyes, take in the absolute beauty. I wonder if Danny and Sara are awake and seeing it, too. If I can somehow help them escape, it might make up for some of the things I’ve done.

  Not Rachel, though. What happened with her is beyond redemption; I can’t go back and change it. If I’d just given her what she needed, told her what she wanted to hear, she’d be coming with us. I know what happened to Rachel goes beyond Day 39, but that’s when it all started.

  * * *

  It was seven hours before Day 39 officially began. Rachel and I were in our office, the only one with two desks. They put us there because of our shitty sales record. Jobs in Brightside were based on the ones we held in our former lives. I used to sell BMWs. Here, I sold timeshares. At BMW I never missed a quota, never blew a sale, but I was always within six feet of the customer, the range I needed to hear someone’s thoughts. On the phone, I was next to worthless.

  The clock on the wall showed the same time as my computer. All the clocks in Brightside were perfectly in sync. No reason to be late. No reason to think this wasn’t all perfectly normal.

  They even hid the security cameras to help us relax. They put them inside light fixtures, behind bushes in the Square, where we have a bakery, a bar, and even an electronics store. All built for us. To make us believe this is just a regular town, a place like any other. No reason to ever escape.

  Rachel got hung up on before she could finish telling the guy how close the condo was to the beach. We had five minutes left of work, enough time for her to make another call, but she just opened the bottom desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of lotion. She squirted it onto her palm and rubbed her legs that were spilling out from under the desk.

  Rachel and I had been dating for close to three weeks. Long enough for Rachel to decide I was the one. Long enough for me to give her a key to my place, to convince myself I loved her back.

  Everything gets accelerated in Brightside, because you can’t lie. Everything’s exposed. Normal couples take six months to admit how they feel. Brightsiders do it on the first date.

  Rachel rolled back in her chair and looked at me like I’d just said something. It made me feel sorry for all the people I’d done this to over the years. Taking whatever I pleased.

  She got up with a smile and walked over to my desk. Her red skirt stopped mid-thigh and was tight enough to be painted on. She didn’t need to listen to my thoughts to know I liked it.

  The last couple days, Rachel only saw me at work, and she knew I was ready to break up with her. It’s not that things were bad. They were just too intense. Rachel was the first Thought Thief I’d ever been with. I had no idea how exhausting it could be. You can’t just say you’re tired or that nothing’s wrong.

  Rachel knew everything, even though I never said a word.

  That’s why she sat on the corner
of my desk, crossed her legs so I couldn’t focus on my computer screen. She’d put her dark hair in a ponytail so it looked less Jewish. I’d only thought that once, but she never let it go.

  Rachel smiled and took off the glasses she didn’t need. The ones that looked exactly like Mom’s.

  She took the part of the frame that rested behind her ear and put it in her mouth. She sucked on it a bit then spoke around it. “You got plans tonight?”

  I noticed Rachel had gotten contacts, her eyes so fucking blue. Just like Michelle’s, my last girlfriend before Brightside.

  Rachel turned her legs toward me. They were shiny and smooth and smelled like piña colada. “I just shaved,” she said.

  We both knew I wanted to feel the inside of her thigh, run my hand up to see if she was telling the truth, but I just mumbled that they looked nice and powered off my computer.

  Rachel rubbed her calf against my knee until I looked up at her. “I need to see you tonight,” she said.

  I adjusted my khakis, pointlessly trying to conceal the fact her plan was working.

  “We can go out,” she said. “Something nice. I’m thinking Oscar’s.”

  Oscar’s meant a lot of money, something I wasn’t making in Brightside.

  Always staying one step ahead of me, Rachel said dinner was on her. She wanted me to know things could be different. She was willing to change. It didn’t have to be so intense.

  “Come on, it’ll be fun,” she said. “And I don’t even need to stay over tonight. Unless you want me to?” Rachel took hold of my collar and pulled me in, her red lips so close.

  I could feel the security camera zooming in from its hiding spot. I pushed her back and said, “Fine, we’ll go to Oscar’s.”

  Rachel smiled and spun off my desk. She let me watch her ass as she picked up her purse and walked out the door.

  Oscar’s was only a few blocks from my apartment and, even though I was dressed and ready, I waited until the last possible minute to leave. I didn’t want to get there before Rachel.

  I passed under the bronze archway and entered the park with its enormous pine trees. Someone had decorated them with little white lights to make it look like a winter wonderland. There were no rules about sticking to the path, so I cut across the grass, staying far away from the edge where the mountain dropped off. A full mile, straight down. Heights threw my stomach around in my chest and made me shake like a little girl. I passed the pond and took deep breaths to clear my head. The air was cool, everything silent.

  The Cabin was high up on the hill, with its big red logs and long bay window. The curtains were always pulled back, so we’d see the residents who’d broken the rules. Some had refused to go to work or started fights. A few had slit their wrists too shallow.

  In the common room, a small blonde in a nurse’s uniform sat behind the desk reading a magazine. The rule-breakers sat in chairs, their faces pale, eyes ringed in black. They weren’t allowed to talk during rehabilitation. They were given pills to keep them calm.

  The Cabin was the big reminder in Brightside that our town was still a prison.

  I focused my eyes straight, kept walking, went through the South archway and stepped onto Main Street. The six small stores were dark and closed, but everything else was lit. Every ten feet, a lamp post to wipe out any shadow. No place to hide.

  I strolled down the deserted street as the American flag flapped high above the Square. The flapping like a goddamn slap in the face.

  I knew I had to clear my head. I needed to blow out all the bad thoughts before I turned the corner.

  Rachel was waiting for me on the bench outside Oscar’s. She was wearing her fancy green dress. The one she’d worn under her robe at graduation. Back then it fit perfectly. Now, she had to suck in. Her hair was up in a French twist, and her makeup was thick. Especially her lips. Dark red. Her glasses were gone. She wanted me to know she’d been paying attention.

  I didn’t realize it was supposed to be that kind of dinner, but at least I had on my nice pair of jeans and my shirt had a collar. Rachel didn’t care what I was wearing. She was just happy I showed.

  I took her hand and said, “Let’s go eat.”

  Oscar’s windows were tinted just enough so you had to press your face against the glass to see the idiots paying thirty bucks for the same steak they could buy for ten across the street. Brightside liked to remind us we could still be special.

  The hostess was going to seat us in the back, tucked away in the corner. Rachel asked if we could sit at a table. She knew I wouldn’t break up with her in the open. We sat in between two couples silently engaged in conversation.

  Rachel wanted to talk though, wanted me to feel this was a normal date. She knew I was thinking about The Cabin and that fucking flag. She told me to order anything I wanted. She asked about my day, even though she’d been sitting next to me the entire eight hours.

  Our steaks arrived, and Rachel kept asking questions, like the first concert I went to and the last book I’d read. She was trying, and I felt like an asshole. I answered her questions and even asked a few of my own.

  It made me think this is how our first date should have been. Not me sharing how much I hated my mom. Rachel sharing what her uncle did with her panties.

  But by the time we’d finished dessert, we’d run out of things to say. We were like an old married couple after only three weeks. I took Rachel’s hand and started to have the talk we’d been avoiding. She put her other hand on top of mine like it was a game.

  “Let’s just grab a drink.”

  She knew I wasn’t a drinker. It’s not that I have a problem with booze. The problem is when I’m buzzed I start thinking about shit I shouldn’t. Back home in Ohio, I could get away with it. In Brightside it was a problem.

  I said, “It’s kind of late.”

  Rachel snorted. That’s how she laughed. “We’ll only have one.” She looked so desperate sitting there, her hand squeezing mine. She just wanted us to have some fun.

  “All right,” I said, “we’ll go for one.”

  We crossed through the Square and headed for Riley’s, the bar where everyone knows your name and all the horrifying shit that fills your head.

  It started out fine because that’s how bars usually start out. Then an hour turned to two and I was somehow on my sixth Jack. All my thoughts started creeping out like cockroaches. Rachel handed me another shot. I talked louder to keep other things to myself, but some guy asked what I had against the flag. Rachel laughed and pulled me towards the door. Everything was spinning and I thought I might fall over. Rachel kissed me and kissed me.

  And then it was Day 39.

  I woke up to the darkness. The curtains were closed. I had no idea what time it was or how we’d gotten back to my place. Besides the pounding headache it seemed like every other morning with Rachel, but something was definitely wrong.

  Rachel was sitting on the edge of the bed, legs dangling over the side. She kept pulling at her curls, over and over, again and again. Her right hand was clenched, her fingers pressing down on her thumb like she was trying to break it.

  I put my head back on the pillow, tired and hungover. I was still halfway in my dream, and it was a good one.

  Michelle and I were walking in the forest, its grass so green, Ohio’s brilliant blue sky above. Michelle stopped at a clearing and laid down her red blanket.

  Then she was underneath me.

  Her eyes were the lightest blue with the softest shine. I brushed Michelle’s sandy blonde hair from the side of her face, ran my thumb lightly across her cheek, around her ear, then cradled her head.

  She reached behind my back and pulled me down. My heart covered hers. Her heart, my heart, beat to beat. “Can you feel that, Joe?”

  And then I was inside her and we were white on red, all that blue above us. Beautiful colors back then.

  Michelle. Michelle. Michelle…

  “Are you fucking serious?”

  The voice definitely wasn’t
Michelle’s.

  The dream was gone. I was awake, back in Brightside, darkness all around me.

  I had no idea what I’d done, but I knew it wasn’t good. “Come back to sleep,” I said.

  Rachel wouldn’t face me, all her focus on those curtains, the ones I refused to open, the mile of Brightside beyond them.

  I reached out and put my hand on her back. Rachel recoiled and my hand fell. Her mouth was a black hole moving in the darkness.

  “You still love her.”

  I played dumb, what Mom wouldn’t call a hard stretch. “Who?”

  Rachel swung her knee onto the bed so it was up against my ribs, the thin white sheet the only thing between us. “Please don’t lie to me, Joe. I’m not an idiot.”

  My eyes were adjusting to the dark. I saw Rachel’s blue contacts, the black trails bleeding beneath them.

  I took hold of her fist and eased it open. I rubbed her college ring, the emerald set in white gold. She’d gotten it a month before they brought her to Brightside. “You’re not an idiot,” I said. “You’ve got the ring to prove it.”

  She said, “You think this is funny?”

  It wasn’t funny. It was scary.

  I said I was sorry. “I shouldn’t have joked like that.” I kept touching her ring, started picturing her in school, lying under all those guys.

  Rachel’s hand clenched back into a fist.

  I couldn’t control my thoughts. “Rachel, it’s late.” I looked over at the clock. “We’ve got work in three hours.”

  “Do you wish I was her?”

  She knew I couldn’t answer that. Not in one word. Not the one she was looking for.

  Michelle was the woman I was going to marry. She found out the hard way about my secret. She was there when they took me away.

  Rachel sat waiting for an answer, staring at me, peering inside. I took a deep breath, trying to clear my head, but she knew everything.