Instant Message

The florescent lights surrounding Kyle’s vanity flickered to a steady hum. Peering through artificial glare, his crow’s feet furrowed. He braced his hands against the sink’s rim, leaning on it as a preacher would a pulpit.

They’ll find me.

Hot vomit rose in his throat like an exorcised demon; amber plumes erupted from his mouth and nostrils. He arched and bowed, emitting a primal growl. He purged in order of substance: first solids, then liquids. At the last, he barked and spit as his very soul sought evacuation.

He looked to the vanity. A spidery string of saliva ran from his shaking lip, connecting him to the waste pooled in the washbasin. He gagged, his mouth distending in an empty howl. Spitting, Kyle again attempted to face himself. Veins still bulged from his forehead. Kyle’s image glared at him like a gargoyle: alien...and Catholic.

Repelled, he bowed his head. The fluid in the sink had slunk to the sewer, leaving only chunks damned by their mass. He recognized some; morsels eaten early in the day.

He gripped the sink’s edge, his knuckles whitening. He couldn’t go to prison. Men like him were mistreated; even convicts had their standards, their honor. The mirror reflected mercilessly. His visage strobed between reproach and self-pity.

Acrobat15. He’d only known her by her screen name, yet he’d known her better than anyone. He’d read her posts and studied her Wikipage. He’d taken the time to research her favorite listed bands and movies. He’d sensed her pain even before the first private message. She’d responded hungrily to his interest. Their chats had become epic journeys of laughs and tears. She’d been so lonely in her pain. Her friends at school were so fake. Her parents didn’t understand either. She’d come to need Kyle. She told him he was her one true love.

Kyle was not as surprised as he had feigned when she asked to meet him. She’d a learner’s permit and a new car her parents had bought her apologetically. She lived in Marin County, only an hour’s drive from Oakland.

Kyle had arrived at the Marin Headlands early, hoping to observe Acrobat before she had a chance to see him. The waxing moon shone as if it strove to supplant the sun. Waves crashed dramatically against the cliffs and rocks below. He debated whether he’d overdressed; the bowling shirt slimmed him, but perhaps it made him look older?

A small car pulled into the turnoff, behind his own.

“Togoboy?” she said with a loud whisper. She approached with tentative steps.

“Acrobat,” he replied reverently. “I’m here.” Kyle’s stomach fluttered. It was perfect, an adventure.

She approached nervously, squinting as she drew near the point’s end. The moon was at Kyle’s back. His shadow cast long and jagged across the uneven stone, engulfing the girl as she approached.

“You are tall,” she said, shuffling closer.

“Thanks.” His heart sang victory. “You are so beautiful.” It sounded lame, Kyle knew, but it was all he could manage. Her skin fluoresced; her face was a picture of innocence, of hope, of...revulsion.

“You’re... she sucked an uneven breath, “old!”

“It’s me,” Kyle pleaded, his confidence lost. “It’s Togoboy.”

“No,” she said. Was she shaking? “You can’t...” she backed away.

“No, wait. Listen.” He held his hands up, palms forward. She continued to retreat.

“You...you...,” she stammered. Her wide eyes shone. She’d worn makeup.

“Acrobat, sweetie, I can explain...” Kyle soothed.

“Fucker!” she finally managed, her voice broken.

She took another step back.

“No. Wait, I...” he said.

She stole another step.

He grabbed her by both arms. He fancied it resembled a scene from a movie, where the hero grabs the heroine roughly...and she gives him a reluctant kiss.

Acrobat kneed him in the groin. The movie was over.

His hands became concrete. She yelped at the sudden force, the sudden understanding.

“I’ll tell!” she shouted, beating her hands uselessly against his chest. “I wrote down your plates.” She pulled hard against his grasp. Kyle’s eyes blurred, he spun her around, placing himself between her and her parent’s car.

“Please,” she said. So beautiful! “Don’t.”

“Age doesn’t matter,” he said. “You know who I am inside.”

“Please,” she begged. “Please let me go...okay?”

“Listen to me,” Kyle shook Acrobat’s shoulders until her head bobbled. But not to hurt her. No, never to hurt her.

“ Let go!” She screamed. “Help! Heeelllp!”

“Shut up.” With her arms clenched he forced her further from the cars.

It had been an accident.

His eyes were teary, after all. If she had stopped squirming and screaming, he wouldn’t have been so distracted, so clumsy.

She reached for me, at the last.

He averted his eyes from the vanity’s cruel stare. She’d looked at him, just as the ground ran out. Her small hands hooked his wrists as gravity pulled her away from him. Her grip was firm and she began to take him with her. He snatched his hands away before he lost his balance.

Her eyes locked on Kyle as she fell. Perhaps she imagined he could save her. Impotent, he crouched on his knees and watched. She still had tears in her eyes. Her thin jacket flapped above her head like nylon wings. Like a falling angel. Her impact was sudden and without sound.

He was still wearing his favorite shirt. He’d pressed it crisp. He’d shaved twice too, scraping repeatedly to erase the shadow. The ironing board still stood in front of his computer, a sober reminder of how things should have been.

A dog barked in the street. He flinched as if it were the baying of bloodhounds. The computer. Turning away from the vomit stained sink, Kyle strode the creaking hall to his bedroom.

It stood in the corner, humming innocently. They would search her computer and find the chat logs. It would only be a matter of time before they subpoenaed his ISP, demanding knowledge of Togoboy’s IP address. He could delete records on his end....

**baa ding** his computer chirped. He had a new chat message.

Kyle’s mouth dried. They could not have found him so fast. It was impossible. He reached for the mouse and shook it side to side. The screen blinked from hibernation.

“Acrobat15 has invited you to chat. Do you accept?” He jerked his hand back from the mouse. It scurried from the desk and was stopped mid fall by its thin cord; twisting, it tapped against the front of his desk.

It must be her dad. Acrobat had told him that her father was a Silicon Valley techno-geek. He must’ve been looking for clues. The police wouldn’t be involved so early on, he reasoned.

Kyle held his hands out, willing them to cease shaking. He could handle this. He sat heavily at his desk and retrieved the dangling mouse. He imagined her father creeping through Acrobat’s personal things, his jaw clenched at the notion.

Dad thinks he’s tricksy, huh? He stabbed the “accept” option. Before Acrobat15 could post, Kyle’s hands flurried on his keypad, sending a preemptive message.

“Togoboy says: Sorry I couldn’t meet you tonight. Don’t be mad. I just don’t feel ready to meet you yet. I wish you would stop pressuring me about this.” It would look like a suicide, Kyle realized. She was depressed, needed attention, and was stood up. . .

**baa ding**

“Acrobat15 says: You hurt me Togo.”

Clever reply, Kyle thought, Ambiguous enough to mean anything.

“Togoboy says: I know. It was wrong of me to stand you up. Can you forgive me?” You got nothin’ old man.

**baa ding**

“Acrobat15 says: LOL [Attachment 1, Attachment 2].”

LOL? Confused, Kyle clicked the “Attachment 1” hyperlink. The picture file downloaded slowly. The resolution was grainy and dark but the image was undisputable. His confidence scattered like ash. I’m going to need a lawyer. She’d said she had written down his plates. Evidently, she’d done one step better. The attached photo contained two cars, a small compact parked behind a grey truck. Both license plates were legible. She must have sent it to one of her friends from a camera phone.

Demons murmured in his belly; the sweet cloy of vomit rose from his core. He clicked the “start” button and stabbed “turn off computer.” Three options presented themselves, “Standby, Turnoff, and Restart.”

Curiosity drew him instead to the grey “cancel” button. “Attachment 2” remained untouched. He selected it. His computer whirred as it downloaded yet another JPEG. Unlike the previous file, this pic jumped to the screen all at once.

The demons rose suddenly. He reached for a garbage can as he fell to his knees. Unable to reach the trash, he vomited on his blue carpet. He turned his head from his place on the floor. The imaged was blurred but irrefutable; he stood on the point with Acrobat, his hands clenched about her small arms. Even in silhouette, her frail form exuded fear.

She’d brought a friend. Still on his knees, Kyle straightened, reaching for his keyboard.

“Togoboy says: Who is this?” Acrobat had told Kyle about all her friends; it was a short list.

**baa ding**

“Acrobat15 says: You know me. You know who I am inside.”

Kyle angered at the sarcasm.

“Togoboy says: FO. You’re not Acrobat.” Why had the police not already come for him?

**baa ding**

“Acrobat15 says: I never lied to you Togo, ever. [Attachment 3, Attachment 4]

The first photo drove the demons in his stomach to frenzy. His belly burned and his mouth distended as he retched. It was a close up. A photo of Acrobat’s broken body on the shore. Her face was hidden by her disheveled brown hair. He closed the window quickly. Who is this sick fuck?

He clicked Attachment 4. He squinted his eyes, bracing for an impact. Instead, he jumped to his feet and pointed to his screen. “You!” he shouted. It was a photo of Acrobat, at the base of the cliff; she was standing.

“Togoboy says: OMG! Are you okay?!” His head buzzed as his brain battled between hope and reason. He began another post. An apology. A eulogy, really, for who he had been; and a mission statement for who he would become.

**baa ding**

“Acrobat15 says: No Togo. I’m hurt...I told you already. [Attachment 5].

He paused, lifting his hands from the keyboard; he clicked Attachment 5, and sat back from the screen in disgust. The photo was taken in better light; he could see the wreckage that had been her young face. The right side remained as he remembered, but the left was a sunken cavity. Her eye bulged unnaturally from its socket. Her nose was crushed flat, her forehead distended. He deleted his manifesto.

“Togoboy says: OMG Acrobat! Why aren’t you at the hospital?”

**Baa Ding**

“Acrobat15 says: I don’t need a hospital, Kyle.”

“Togoboy says: Bullshit!! Go to a hospital NOW. Where are you?” He pulled his chair and sat on its edge, awaiting her reply.

He looked at the photo again. She was standing in a doorway; the carpet was a familiar shade of blue. Had she called me Kyle?

**baa ding**

“Acrobat15 says: Turn around.”