The Babysitter


The phone rang at 2:14 PM on a Thursday afternoon. It was July 23rd, the final day of Julie's short life. She was just sixteen years, five months, and thirteen days old, and she was lying on her bed perusing a Seventeen magazine, an age she'd sadly never reach. Of course she had no idea she was going to die that day, and Seventeen seemed as inevitable as the changing of the seasons.

Her spirits were high, as they usually were, and when Mr. Barnes asked if she could baby-sit Henry she happily agreed. Henry was a sweet kid, and Mr. Barnes paid a flat rate of one hundred smackeroonies whenever she watched him, so it was easy money and she could use the cash to get her mom a necklace for her birthday, which was just around the corner.

After a quick shower, Julie slipped on a cropped white tee and some ripped denim shorts, then walked down the street to Mr. Barnes's house. He was sitting in the yard on a lawn chair, with a scantily clad blonde doting over him.

"Julie, you're a life saver," he called out as she approached.

"Got yourself a hot date?" Julie asked, raising an eyebrow at his female companion.

"Maybe. Julie, this is Jenny. Jenny, this is Julie."

"Hey, sugar! You think I'm hot?" Jenny asked, with an insipid little giggle. She leaned over to show off her cleavage, and Julie tried not to cringe.

I think you're an airhead, Julie thought, but aloud she said, "You're fucking sexy." It wasn't fair to judge the woman. After all, it was society that drilled it into their heads that their self-worth was dependent upon their looks instead of their brains, so this poor creature was simply a product of her environment. Julie tried to bear that in mind when she forced a smile and shook the woman's hand, awkwardly avoiding the hug Jenny seemed intent on sharing. "So, what time are you two love birds heading out?" she asked, addressing Mr. Barnes.

"We're just about to leave. I left some ground beef thawing in the sink, and Henry's inside watching cartoons. If you need anything you got my cell phone number, and we should be back around ten or eleven."

"Sounds legit." To the ditzy blonde Julie added, "Make sure this guy pays his own way; he's loaded." Then she went inside. The house was one step down from a mansion, with an expansive foray that led to an oversized family room. Plush leather sofas flanked a seventy inch flat screen, with speakers in every wall, and a marble coffee table was the center piece.

Henry was lying on the couch watching Sponge Bob, and when he saw her he cried out, "Julie!" and rushed over to hug her leg.

"Hey kiddo," Julie grinned and rubbed his head.

"You're gonna stay with me?"

"Yup. We're gonna have some fun. You watching Spongebob?"

"Uh-huh. I got some new Supersoakers. You wanna see?"

"Sure."

Henry ran down the hallway to his room, and when he returned he held a pair of water guns that were each nearly as big as he was. Julie laughed and put her hands in the air. "Don't shoot." Henry made machine gun noises with his mouth and pretended he was pumping Julie full of lead, and Julie groaned and clutched herself, falling backwards onto the couch. "Oooohhh, you got me."

Henry cackled with joy, ran over and jumped on Julie, put both gun barrels against her head and made more gunfire noises. "I'm already dead, you silly goose, now you're just wasting your ammo."

"If you're dead you can't talk."

"Good point," and with that Julie lay back and rolled her eyes up in her head and remained perfectly still.

She held that pose even when Henry started poking her in the ribs and playfully slapping her cheeks, but when he licked his finger and stuck it in her ear and cried, "Wet Willie!" she pushed him away and giggled.

"Alright, alright, I'm not dead. You wanna have a watergun fight later?"

Henry nodded.

"You wanna finish watching SpongeBob first?"

Henry nodded again, and so they spent the next hour watching back to back episodes of the yellow cartoon character with the buckteeth. Julie was able to laugh nearly as often as Henry, and she thought there were certainly worse ways to spend her afternoon.

When Rabbids Invasion came on they switched the TV off and took the Supersoakers to the bathtub to fill them up, before heading into the back yard for a duel. Julie set up camp behind the swing set and Henry hid behind the jungle gym, and they let each other have it. Julie got the better of the exchange, but she still ended up with her hair drenched and her tee shirt soaked through. She momentarily regretted her decision to go without a bra, as her nipples were clearly visible, but Henry was just a five-year-old kid, so she wasn't overly conscious about it.

They goofed around on the monkey bars and Henry chased Julie up the climbing frames and down the slide until they had mostly dried off, and once they were back inside Henry went to his room to play with his toys and Julie channel surfed and browsed Facebook and Twitter and a few blogs on her phone. At around five o'clock PM she went into the kitchen and started cooking the ground beef with some taco seasoning and frying up some corn tortillas, and that was when she heard the gun shot.

The sound was deafening, and the burning pressure in her abdomen came as a kind of afterthought. She was standing in front of the stove and saw the splash of blood hit the oven and the handle of the frying pan in front of her. A short sqauwk escaped her lips, and she looked at the exit wound in her bare belly.

The slug had entered her body towards the rear of her right side, travelled diagnally through her abdominal cavity, wreaking havoc on her digestive tract, and exited to the left of her navel. She slapped her left hand against her tummy and turned away from the stove, and there was Henry standing in the hallway, pointing a revolver at her. "Henry, sweetie" she said, as calmly as possible, "that's not a toy. You really hurt me." She reached her right hand out to him and said, "Give me the gun."

"Eat death, Julie," Henry said as he squeezed the trigger again. Hot lead hit her in the stomach like a load of bricks, punching through the right side of her midsection. Julie looked at the fresh hole in her gut and pressed her right hand against the wound. Blood welled between her fingers and spilled down the front of her jean shorts, and Henry squealed with laughter.

"Henry," Julie gasped, but she was answered with yet another gun shot. This time the slug caught her in the right shoulder and spun her around so her back was to the kid. He thinks this is a game. He's not going to stop shooting me. Julie took a few stiff steps away from the five-year-old terror, then caught a fourth round in her left buttock. It bulled through her hip and left a gaping hole in the hollow spot where her thigh met her pelvis, and Julie fell to her knees.

She put her right hand on the island next to her for balance, and tried to pick herself back up. She was stopped by yet another bullet, which bit into the center of her back and laid waste to her liver and her stomach, then exited her upper abdomen. Blood spattered across the tiles in front of her, and the girl fell face first on the kitchen floor. She tasted the metallic, coppery flavor of blood and bile in the back of her throat, and spat crimson. "Oh fuck," she groaned.

Unable and unwilling to give up, Julie drug herself across the floor, glancing over her shoulder to see Henry stalking her, pistol in hand. She flipped onto her back and propped herself up against the fridge, then pleaded with the kid. "Henry, don't. Please." Henry popped her in the right breast, knocking the wind out of her.

"Hummpphh," Julie grunted, and more blood spilled over her soft, lush lips. "Oh God, Henry, I think you really killed me."

Henry laughed and pulled the trigger again, but this time the hammer fell on an empty shell. "If I killed you, how can you talk?"

Julie smiled wanly, showing blood-stained teeth. "Touche. But I'm hurt bad, Henry. For real this time. This isn't make believe."

"You have a lot of blood," he told her.

"Yeah, I do, but I'm losing a lot of blood," she responded. "I don't have much time. Henry... you're going to be in a lot of trouble for this. I need you to promise me something."

"Are you gonna tell my daddy on me?"

"No sweetie. I'm... I don't think I'm gonna get another chance to talk to your daddy. But listen. You hafta promise... you won't ever play with guns anymore."

"But I just got my Supersoakers."

Julie managed to giggle. "No, not those guns, silly. Those guns are fine." She winced as a terrible stabbing pain went through her tummy. "This gun." She pointed at the revolver. "Don't play with guns like this. It's not nice."

"Okay."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

"Good boy. Now... I need you to turn off the stove. If we... if we leave it on we cuh... could burn the house down."

"Aren't you going to make me tacos?"

"Oh baby, I can't make you tacos anymore."

"Because I shot you?"

"Yeah. Because you shot me."

"Does it hurt?" Henry reached out and lightly poked one of the holes in her bare belly, and Julie grimaced.

"Ah, don't touch it. Yeah... it hurts."

"I'm sorry," Henry told her, sounding genuinely remorseful.

A lot of good an apology does me now. "That's okay, sweetie. Now turn the stove off." Henry did as she asked, and when he returned to her she said, "Good job, kiddo. Now... I left my ph... my phone on the night stand. By the back door. Can you do me a favor... and bring it to me?"

Seeming to finally grasp the gravity of the situation, Henry did as she asked without question this time. Thank God for small favors. "Thanks," she told him when he handed over the cell phone. She put it on speaker and dialed 9-1-1. When the operator answered and asked what her emergency was, she told him, "I'm dying. I've been shot... six times. There's a little boy here. He needs someone to watch over him. Six... two... four... Fern Street."

"Okay, try to relax. We're sending someone over. Do you know who shot you?" the operator asked.

"The kid I'm supposed to be baby-sitting." Julie chuckled sardonically. "Epic fail, huh?"

"Where were you hit?"

"Once in the chest. Three times in the stomach. Once in the shoulder. Once in the hip. I'm pretty sure he blew out my lung. And my liver. And maybe some other vital organs. Quite the little sharp-shooter."

"Are you-"

Julie hung up. It didn't matter where she was shot. She was done for - there was no question about it - and she still had a couple more calls to make. The blood smears on her phone complicated things, but she managed to find her Mr. Barnes' number on her contact list and dial it. After three rings he picked up.

"Julie, what's up?"

Looks like I'll get to talk to Henry's father at least one last time after all. "Hey, Mr. Barnes. We had a bit of an issue here."

"What happened? Is Henry okay?"

"He's fine." Julie glanced at the boy. "He might be a little uh... rattled, though. There was an accident. He didn't mean any harm. I... I kinda told him I wouldn't tattle on him."

"Is he there? Put him on the phone."

Julie already had it on speaker, so she looked at Henry and said, "You're up, kiddo."

"Daddy?" Henry called out.

"What's going on, Henry?"

"I shot Julie. She's bleeding a lot."

"WHAT!? Julie?"

"He's telling the truth. He did a number on me." Julie answered.

"Did you call an ambulance?"

"I called nine-one-one," Julie replied, declining to mention that a hearse would have been more appropriate.

"Okay, I'll be there as soon as I can," and with that Mr. Barnes hung up.

Julie tried to search for Mom in the contact list, but there was too much blood. Her hands were dripping with the stuff, and she had nowhere to wipe them. Her shirt and shorts were soaked, and the floor was slick with gore.

"Henry, sweetie, could you wipe my blood off the screen?" The boy used his shirt to do as she asked, then handed the phone back to her. "Thanks," she muttered. It went straight to voicemail, but Julie was somewhat relieved; she didn't think she could bear speaking with her mom without breaking down. "Mom. It's me. I love you. Thanks for always being there." She touched the end call icon, blinked back her tears, and lamented, "This sucks. I wish you hadn't done this, Henry."

"I'm sorry, Julie."

"I know, kiddo. So am I." What could have been if I hadn't answered the phone this afternoon? If I had said I was busy? If I had never met Mr. Barnes? How long would I have lived? What would I have experienced in my life? Why did I let him out of my sight? Why didn't I check on him to see what he was up to? There was so much to be sorry for. "I guess now we wait," Julie said, setting the phone on the floor. She let out a long, rattling sigh, and felt the ice cold terror set in. I'm just waiting to die now. I wonder how long I have left? She could feel the world swimming away, and it was all she could do to remain conscious.

After nearly half a minute of silence, she opened her beautiful blue eyes wide and gaped as she felt death's bony fingers stealing her away, and stark panic washed over her. "Henry," she gasped. "I'm so scared."

"Aren't you going to Heaven?"

There's no such thing. "I don't think so, sweetie."

"Why not?"

"I... I duh... I don't know if... Henry. Huh..." She suddenly found it impossible to form words, and simply sat there opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water, her eyes bulging in their sockets. Soon after that she was dead.

Henry poked the ribs of what was once a vibrant and animated girl, then lightly slapped her soft cheeks, but she sat still, her mesmerizingly beautiful face frozen in perpetual horror. He licked his finger and stuck it in her ear and cried, "Wet Willie," but this time he was not rewarded with a cheerful giggle. Instead Julie remained motionless, never to laugh again.