Page 104 of Hunter's Hidden Camera
“How did you know I was in trouble?”
Manny chuckles. “We weren’t going to just sit and wait in your car like a bunch of bitches. We hid out, a few houses down, and we kept watch.”
Oscar releases a bloodcurdling scream.
“We’re almost there, Oscar!” I yell.
“I don’t want to die,” says Oscar.
I ask, “You wanna live, right?”
“I wanna live,” says Oscar.
“You are,” I say. “You are.”
45
Goodness
Isit across from Dr. Kanazawa, but I’m having a hard time concentrating. I’m distracted by the Christmas tree right outside the window. It stands tall in front of this office complex. It’s covered with flashing lights and ornaments, and a lot of care was obviously put into it. But somehow, it’s not as impressive as what I saw a couple of months ago at Nikolai’s house, a place I will never forget, no matter how hard I try.
“Hunter?” says Dr. Kanazawa. “Did you hear me?”
I snap out of it. “Sorry. What was that?”
Dr. Kanazawa writes something down in his notepad. “So the suicidal thoughts: they’re occurring less and less?”
“Yes. Patricia was right. I needed to get out of my own head and get out into the real world a bit. I mean, people talk about how technology, the internet, has really opened our eyes to the rest of the world, connected us to so many different kinds of people. And it’s true. Growing up, seeing gay people on YouTube and Insta was so helpful. Knowing I wasn’t so aloneis one of the reasons I’m still alive today. But for me, obviously, it wasn’t enough. Because nothing beats being around people in real life, people just being themselves. I mean, that’s really what’s been the game changer for me. I mean, I never would’ve guessed I would be spending so much time with two middle-aged lesbians and two middle-aged gay dudes. But I like it. It makes me feel better about who I am. Because around them, I get tobewho I am. I don’t have to act.”
“That’s great to hear, Hunter. Now we may have ruled out clinical depression, but let’s keep an eye on those thoughts, okay?”
“Sure.”
“And how about school? How about your friends? How about Oscar?”
Oscar. Thank God we got him to the hospital on time. And thank God Patricia was there to oversee keeping him alive.
In the days after Oscar was released from the hospital, we hung out. We walked around the mall, went to the movies, got food. But we didn’t talk about everything that happened. We didn’t talk about breaking into Nash’s dorm room or Perpetual Sunset or getting hit by an SUV or him being taken away and chained in a basement and stabbed. We didn’t talk much about anything at all.
It’s understandable. At least, Dr. Kanazawa helped me understand. Oscar was really traumatized from the experiences of that weekend. Why would he want to trigger those memories by talking about it? Why would he want to remember the fear hefelt, the pain he experienced? Why would he want to remember that he almost died?
We also didn’t talk about how I was so cruelly outed by my brother. We didn’t talk about how Oscar said he secretly thought about me and him being together. We didn’t talk about the seemingly magical kiss we shared.
I wonder if he somehow forgot it all. I wonder if he was too embarrassed to admit that he remembered.
In the following weeks, we started hanging out less and less, began talking less and less. I would invite him to do stuff, and he would say he was busy with his mom or he had to do schoolwork. After a while, he pretty much ghosted me.
Of course, I would see him around school, in class, at track meets, and we would say “‘sup” to each other, but that was pretty much it.
I didn’t feel like confronting him about it, about our dying friendship. After all, he went through a lot, and I was responsible for all of it. And I was also still mortified by what he heard Nash scream at me in the hospital parking lot: “Do your friends know you’re afag?”
I tried to keep myself occupied by studying a lot, teaching myself to design video games, locking myself in my room pretty much. I liked it that way because I didn’t want to interact with my parents. Nash would still sometimes come home some weekends, but I never saw him. I would hear him shuffling around his room, but that’s all. I have no idea what went down between him and Nikolai after we escaped.
I apologized to Alessandra as much as I could, and I gave her all the money I made and told her that she could decide to split it with Nash however she wanted.
I haven’t heard from Nikolai or his men again. So I’ve kept my word and haven’t sent those flash drives to the police. It’s messed up that he’s going to get away with murdering a cop, but I have to honor my word. Because if I don’t and try to get Nikolai convicted and he somehow gets set free, then I’m dead, Oscar’s dead, everybody’s dead. And even if he does get locked up, I do believe he’s a part of a larger organization that’s probably even scarier than he is.
So, that video footage lives in multiple cloud accounts, and I’ve upgraded the security on my laptop and phone, as well as all my friends’. And those flash drives remain hidden around Southern California. That video footage, those flash drives: they’re my only leverage.
