• 3 •

I relish the pleasant and well-earned exhaustion after a hard training. The hot shower, washing away the sweat and wonderfully relaxing my sore muscles, the laughter and happiness of like-minded girls in the locker room and finally the satisfaction of having taken another step to bring my body and skills to perfection. That is the pure joy of life.

As I leave the gym, Leah awaits me outside.

 “Are you going home by foot?” Leah asks as she unlocks her bicycle.

“Just a relaxed fifteen-minute-walk. Enjoyable conclusion of the day.”

Leah nods, bids farewell and speeds off. I walk into the opposite direction. Only few people roam the campus this evening. Spring comes with early warmth this year, but as soon as the sun sets, the air still gets a chilly sting.

I pass the library and see a familiar face in one of the lit workrooms. The guy is no friend of mine, but fortune put him in my study group in some literature course. I hesitate for a moment. Justin is one of those guys I find no connection to and I’d prefer to go on. But the deadline for our project paper is in two days and Justin’s the only group member who hasn’t delivered yet. Maybe this is a sign of fate.

I turn and enter the sparsely visited library. The workrooms are in the right section of the building and I easily find the one occupied by Justin.

“Hey Justin! Working on the project, or just hanging around?” I close the door behind me.

Justin twirls around and stares at me. I must have startled him, or something. 

“All the others reported that they’re finished. Only your input is missing. We’ve to hand it and a day for cross-reading and consolidating would be nice. Will you make it?”

“Errr… I tried to call you… or one of the others, but… I mislaid the note with your numbers.” The wide-eyed look he shoots me along with his babbling makes all my alarms go off.

“Yah, okay. I’m here now, you can tell me directly.” I try to stay calm as I expect no good.

“See, I overdid it this term. I face difficulties to…” He shrugs apologetically and I feel somewhat relieved.

“I see. If you need help completing your work, I’ll stay and help you. We have a long night, stick our heads together and are done in time.” Though I’d prefer to go home and sleep, I’m willing to spend some time for the good of our project.

“No, Kim, you don’t understand… I’m out!”

“Oh hey, Justin, the main work will be done with this work, you’re on the finish lane. Let’s complete this and we’re all happy with it.”

“No! I’m out, I already informed the professor.” He says loud, obviously upset.

“Ah, sorry to hear that. Your decision. Then we hand in the work without your paper.” I feel a bit annoyed. The work will lack the aspects Justin was supposed to examine, that might cost us a few points. He really could have informed us earlier.

“No, you can’t.” He mumbles and stares to the ground.

“We can’t – what?” I’m not sure if I heard him right, and even less what he might mean. As he looks up again, his eyes are ablaze with ire and mischief.

“You can’t hand in the work, since I already did so in another course. It’s registered and you’ll be charged with plagiarism if you do!” He’s risen and stands before me. An icy shiver runs down my spine.

“You did WHAT? Why?”

“I needed an advanced work in another seminar and this one did fit like made for me. Your silly course is optional to me, I don’t need it. Thus I couldn’t care less about it, especially when I could use the work for a much better purpose!”

“You took OUR work and passed it off as your own? That’s plain theft! The four of us will fail at the course, you asshole!” My voice gets gruff while I speak, and I feel my face getting hot.

“Aww, come on, failing a course isn’t that much of a drama. Happened to me, too.”

His callousness and skulduggery render me speechless. My scalp tingles, my muscles tense and my throat is suddenly dry like the desert. Justin obviously takes my silence as acceptance of defeat.

“Don’t cry, girl, take it as a chance to gain an even better grade next semester. You’re still a newbie, you’ll learn in time how things are handled here.” The patronizing tone, the complacent smirk…

The tip of my shoe connects roughly with Justin’s crotch. Never before did I kick somebody in the balls that hard. His eyes bulge out and his teeth gnash as his legs buckle and he sinks to the floor.

I step closer, desirous to punish him. I long to kick him again, to mash his impertinent face into a bloody mess. Loathing and spite threaten to overwhelm me as I stare down on him, writhing on the floor like a worm. Just as my head feels on the brink of exploding and my skin as if it’d ignite every moment, a gush of cooling calmness floods through me. I get some tunnel vision and my blood roars in my own ears. The surroundings appear somewhat unreal, like I see them through a haze.

Suddenly there is only a pile of clothing on the floor. Justin’s clothing. As if in trance, I bow down, pick them up and put them aside. Justin falls from the trousers to the floor, even shorter than my own hand. He blinks as he looks around, then his eyes widen as he stares up at me. I lift my foot, move it over him and carefully place it on Justin’s body. Without hesitation or thought, I step down. Though I feel the urge to tread him down with all my weight, I refrain from it. I fear if I did, his blood would splatter everywhere. I don’t want to leave any traces or clean up the room, though, and I wouldn’t get the stains from the white canvas shoes I’m wearing. A fraction of my strength is enough to finish him off. Through my sneaker’s sole I can hardly feel the crack as his body gives way under it.

I take my foot off him. Justin lies completely still and with closed eyes. Reason tells me, I should feel remorse or guilt, heck, it tells me this shouldn’t happen at all. But I keep utterly calm.

I turn towards his laptop. It’s running and unlocked. I check the ‘Sent Mail’ folder. There’s the message to the lecturer, telling that he’s abandoning the course, sent 3 hours ago. Another mail is addressed to one of the other workgroup members; Justin asked her to resend her article because he accidentally deleted it. Wait, this last message he sent later, about one hour ago. If he needed that input, it’s possible that he lied and hasn’t handed in the project work by now!

I open the folder with the received messages. Stephanie sent the requested input a few minutes later. I start the word processor and check the recently edited files. There is our project work, no doubt. He merged the individual articles into one text. The cover sheet verifies his explanation. He changed the title, the seminar information and he claimed authorship all alone. Filthy bastard!

It isn’t unlikely, that this version hasn’t left this hard drive yet. We could rightfully hand in our work as intended and hope for the best. But plagiarism is a serious affair. We all could lose our enrolment, without chance to ever study again, that is. We also could take our chances with the university’s arbitration tribunal, but then this incident would most likely turn up. I bite my lower lip as I ponder about it.

Damn, I sincerely wish I’d been more patient and had questioned him before I ended him.

I hear a sound from below. Right on cue, Justin starts to move between my feet. Almost eerie!

His eyes open. He regains consciousness, looks up and freezes. After a moment of shock, he struggles frantically to get up.

Coolly, I again set my foot on him and pin him down. He whimpers, scared stiff.

Staying silent for a moment, I let him realize his situation to its full extent. With just a few questions I verify my assumptions. Given his earlier haughtiness, the cringing abjection he shows now is most satisfying!

Again I use his computer. First, I edit the work so it bears the right cover sheet. Then I type an email, addressed to all other members of the workgroup, including myself. I explain in Justin’s words that he’ll leave the course and his reasons for this. Then I add the finished file to it and send it to all receivers. I delete the former versions of the file and clear the history. Visiting a video portal, I search for suicide videos and download a few of them.

Finally I shut the laptop. It’s click sounds like a final chime. My gaze wanders down and meets Justin’s eyes, stricken with fear. I feel no pity, only contempt. He must have sensed that, for he starts to whimper.

“Please, Kim, please… let me live!” A single tear runs from the corner of his eye.

“No.” The coldness of my voice comes of its own volition. A final sob emanates from his chest as I press my sole down on him. His head turns purple, no further sound escapes his gaping maw. Untouched, I watch him, his occasional spasmodic twitching, desperately tossing around of his head. At some point, our eyes meet again: mine, grim and determined; his, silently pleading for mercy. I realize, all I need to do to spare him is to lift my foot – in the same instance, he must have realized that this just won’t happen.

It crunches under my sole. The sound and feeling remind me of popcorn I stepped on at the cinema. Justin confirms the effect with a last intense convulsion, then he slackens. Somehow he recovered from my last tread on him, this time I make sure he stays down. Though he lies completely still, I keep up the pressure. Abandon all hope, Justin, I can be very patient. For good measure, I  grind and scrape my sneaker on him, not so hard to squish him, but firm enough to make sure his body is fairly shattered.

I put Justin’s clothes and stuff into my sports bag. Using a tissue, I snatch him from the floor and put him into my pocket. I leave the library and head towards Justin’s apartment. Along the way I feed his remains to some dog, roaming about the campus. In his room, I open the laptop and pour a can of cola over the keyboard and his cell phone. His clothing I stow away carefully into his wardrobe, then I turn off the lights and leave. His keys I throw into the river.

That much for this!