By Justin Zipprich

Simon had no idea where he was. The house seemed very familiar, he just couldn’t place why. The odd thing was that he had lived in this house for over 25 years. A beautiful voice emulates from an upstairs bathroom, he is drawn to it. As he climbs the stairs, they seem so foreign to him, has he climbed these same stairs all these years? As he walks he admires the hanging pictures that line the hall. The people in them, he recognizes them. A smiling woman, a young boy holding a fishing pole, a stunning woman and her son posing under an amusement park sign. Suddenly it begins to come back to him. The woman is his mother, the smiling boy is Simon.

Sometime he seems to get lost in his own head, but like they always do, details start coming so vividly to him now. The beige walls, white carpet, the way the warm sunlight used to fill this hall. He stops when he reaches the door to the bedroom he occupied as a child. Curiosity overcomes him as he turns the rigid knob, slowly pushes open the door. It’s just as he remembers it, the room hasn’t been changed after all these years. Few items fill the room; his small bed, side table and bookshelf still contain the few books that he would read over and over again as a child.

Dark memories fill his mind, mostly the many beatings that took place in that small room. A boy’s room is supposed to be his refuge, but no place seems welcoming when your father comes home, drunk and angry. No time for reminiscing, he has a job to do.

He knows what’s next as he arrives at the bathroom door. He opens it a crack, inside his mother brushes her hair. Smiling and happy, she sings to her reflection in the mirror. His mother is everything to him. She was always there to take care of him and keep him safe, she was his whole life. She’s as amazing and loving today as she was the day he was born and he loves her so very much. Simon opens the door a little further, his mother notices him standing at the threshold, she smiles at him. “Hello my sweet Simon”. Simon goes to her, unveiling the kitchen knife from behind his back. Before she can react, he strikes the single blow to her chest. She makes the slightest peep, her mouth twitches and she falls to the bathroom floor, dead. He looks down at her motionless body; she is so beautiful, like an angel. He loved his mother more than anything in the world. Something isn’t right in his head.

***

The reporters dubbed him the serial killer known as Simple Simon. The name came from his method of murder, one stab to the heart. Clean and simple. The authorities had finally caught up to him after fifteen years of searching. It wasn’t that difficult, after all, he turned himself in. Throughout the court process, Simon tried to pinpoint how his compulsion to kill began.

It’s very possible that the source was his hateful father. As a boy, Simon rarely laughed and never felt love. Fear was the only emotion he knew and he was filled with it every moment of every day. His father was scarier than any villain he’d ever seen in the movies he feared as a child. Dad had always set impossible standards for Simon, standards that his father couldn’t even meet himself. With a low paying job, a wife he didn’t love, and a child he viewed as weak and unsatisfactory, his father had nothing to be happy about. He had never seen his father smile; his default expression was that of anger and distain. Simon’s mother did the best she could. To make up for her husband’s terrible attitude, she tried to keep a smile on her face at all times, even when it got really bad. Of course it was always bad, his father never stopped yelling, and when his throat was to soar to continue he turned to physical harm. He beat his wife and son so often that Simon was in a never ending world of pain. When he would try to retreat to his bedroom, it was only a matter of time before his dad would arrive, beating on the door. He would eventually break the latch and the abuse would resume.

His father’s anger wasn’t only reserved for family; he took his rage out on the animals as well. As an avid hunter, he spent every weekend with his gun, killing everything that moved. Simon was fine with that, anything as long as it kept his father out of the house for a while. When Simon turned 10, his father decided that it was time for him to become a man, he was taking him hunting. Simon had no urge to kill innocent animals; however, chances to make his father happy with him were few and far between, so he agreed. Perhaps it was his desperation to share something, anything, with his father, to finally make him proud. While it started with innocent intentions, the real thrill soon became the control and violence of it all. The first time he pulled the trigger he was hooked. The way the blood spurted, the complete stillness of the deer, but what most excited him was the power. The power to decide when something or someone’s life should end, he had absolute power. From then it just got easier.

***

He had plenty of time to think things over during the last year. His new home was not foreign at all to him, a six by six jail cell. Complete with concrete walls, metal bars and a dirty toilet, it’s the place where people like him come to die, and today was his day. The guard hands him his last meal. Usually the inmate gets to choose his last meal; Simon didn’t care what he ate. They took it upon themselves to prepare him steak, mash potatoes and corn. He eats the meal, but it has no taste, nothing tastes good on the last day of your life. He barely has time to digest his food when the guard returns and tells him that it’s time to go. He obeys, leaves the cell and begins his long walk to the electric chair.

There’s no fooling himself, he knows he deserves the death that awaits him. His dearest mother was only one of 26 people Simon murdered over the last decade. 18 women, five young men and two children died at his hands. After all these years he finally begins to feel remorse. Although he would never admit it to anyone, he is sorry for what he’s done. If given the opportunity he would turn back time, try to reverse what he did to all those innocent people. If he could do it all again, things would be different. If he was just given the chance he would try it again as a gentle and happy person. He would be a man of the people, a friend to the masses, someone to look up to. Yep, if just given the chance, he would redeem himself for all of his wrongdoings. He would go back to when he was 10 years old. An innocent boy that was in awe of the world and everything in it, it would be a different story the second time around.

Halfway down the hall, Simon notices a bright light, a beautiful woman emerges. She looks like an angel, long flowing hair, large welcoming eyes. She is completely out of place in the dark corridor; the guards pay no attention to her, as if she doesn’t exist. She smiles at him and puts out her hand, welcoming Simon towards her. He would go to her, if not for these restraining cuffs and armed guards. The angel comes to him and places her warm hand on his arm and pulls him towards her. Who is this beautiful aberration? Is she the angel of death or something more? Suddenly he feels at ease with the world. He looks around, again cursing the cuffs and guards, who suddenly aren’t there. He is alone with the woman. She embraces him and whispers gently into his ear. The words flow so smoothly and they are exactly what he wants to hear. One simple sentence, “now you are given a second chance.”

***

He awakes in a bed. No longer encased in concrete but surrounded in bright colors, sunlight paints his face. He is back in his bedroom, in his childhood home. He throws off the covers and jumps out of bed. He feels lighter, healthier, more energetic, he feels like a kid again! He is a kid again! The years of fear, sin and anger that once marred his features have been replaced with a face of youth and innocence. He understands what has occurred. He got the second chance that he had hoped for, a chance to do it all again and this time he will not mess it up.

He sprints down the stairs, into the kitchen, where his mother has finished cooking breakfast; she lays it out on the table. He is so happy to see his mother, this time he’ll give her the love that she deserves. The last thing he would ever do is hurt her, he will love her forever.

From the other room, he hears the front door slam; he listens to the sound of heavy footsteps approaching the kitchen. He remembers the distinct footsteps and he knows that sound is his father, as he returns from a long night working at the factory.

His father enters the room, angry as always. His voice is as deep and frightening as Simon remembers.

He gets right to the point. “I’m goin’ huntin’, you comin’ with me boy?”

Without thinking, Simon almost instinctively says ‘yes’ but then gives it another thought. He promised himself that things would be better this time around and this is the first step to keeping a happy life. He knows his father may punish him for disobeying but it seems like a fair trade for the life he deserves.

“No thanks dad, I’m going to stay in with mom.” A risky answer, he feels his voice crack.

His father gets defensive. “Why the hell not? “ He asks. “You some kind of pussy son?”

Simon says nothing, slowly backing into the corner.

“Well that’s fine, but when I come back, I’m gonna whoop your ass!” He grabs his gun from the counter and storms out of the room. His mother waits till her husband exits then slips Simon a smile. He smiles back at his beautiful mother; this is the beginning of a wonderful new life.

***

As the years went by, Simon had nothing but joy and love in his heart. He said hello to everyone he passed on the street, volunteered at the homeless center every Christmas and even helped out at the local YMCA. There he became the lead swim instructor for children five through 15 years of age. He really loved his job; he got such a rush from giving children the ability to swim. As time went by he was recognized as the best swim instructor at the Y. He saw himself as a role model, a man that the young kids could surely look up to and he encouraged them to talk to him about anything they had on their minds. He went to every length possible to ensure that every one of his students was always healthy and happy.

There was one boy that he enjoyed teaching the most. Ten year old Charlie Benning was a slender kid with sandy blond hair and a permanent smile on his face. Awkward and scrawny, he was the kid who was always bullied and targeted, yet he always kept his youthful optimism. In addition, he was also the poorest of all the swimmers in the class. Simon worked with Charlie every day, even after hours. The YMCA looked down upon that kind of thing, but Simon knew he wasn’t hurting anyone, just trying to help a boy that needed it.

He must have spent 100 hours trying to teach young Charlie to swim but the boy never seemed to get any better. Every time he would venture more than a few feet from the pool wall, struggling, awkwardly flailing his arms and legs, he would go into a panic and retreat back to the safety of his instructor. During breaks they talked a lot, mostly about Charlie’s classes and the few friends he had, but he would never shed much information about his home life. Simon suspected the reason. It was no secret that Charlie’s father was the notorious town drunk, with a tendency towards anger. There were a couple occasions when Simon noticed the slightest bruise on Charlie’s arm or neck. Due to Simon’s relationship with his own abusive father, he felt for Charlie and had a special place in his heart for the young boy. He sometimes wished that he was Charlie’s father; he would give him the life he deserved.

One evening when class was over, Simon waited on the front stairs with Charlie. His dad usually came to pick him up but he was late as usual. Class had been over for hours, no doubt his father was spending his free time at one of the local bars; beer was all that mattered to him. It was starting to get dark when Simon suggested that he should drive Charlie home. Dismayed, tears streaming down his cheek he finally confessed how angry and violent his father got after a few hours at the bar, he was afraid to go home. Simon had no choice, he offered Charlie the chance to stay at his place, but only for tonight, Charlie happily agreed.

Simon was no idiot; he knew how taking a student to his home would probably be frowned upon. What choice did he have? Leave the boy freezing on the steps all night, alone? He couldn’t do that, in the morning he would drop Charlie back at home and explain to his father what had happened. With that Charlie happily hopped in Simon’s car and they drove back to his place.

Simon lived in a small studio apartment in a complex that housed hundreds. It wasn’t the definition of elegance but it suited him just fine. There wasn’t much room inside but he tried to make Charlie as comfortable as possible. He put some spare blankets and pillows on the couch and made Charlie a small dinner of soup and a microwaveable meal. Charlie ate the food like he hadn’t eaten in days, leaving not a crumb. They watched a little television until Charlie fell fast asleep, Simon retired to his bedroom.

***

The next morning Simon woke up bright and early and drove the boy home. The house was old, plain and unkempt. Even on the sunniest day the place looked dark and ominous, the source not only the bland colored siding but the dark shadow that emulated from the man who lived within. Simon couldn’t blame Charlie for fearing his own home. Perhaps he connected so much with the boy because he reminded him of the similarities he faced in a former life. Charlie thanked him for the wonderful evening, gathered his backpack and started towards the house. Charlie reached the front door, knocked and waited a moment. After a few moments Mr. Benning opened the door, looking dirty and disheveled, he peered out at Simon in the car. The man gave him an angry look, roughly ushered the boy inside then slammed the door. With no time to confront the father, Simon drove to the Y, late for work.

When he arrived, he went to his locker to set down his things, Brad, a fellow swim instructor greeted him.

“You’re late”, he said with an arrogant smile.

“It’s nice to see you too Brad”, Simon replied, pulling his swim trucks out of his locker.

Simon didn’t really care for Brad. While his outlook in this new life was to treat everyone he met with respect, it was difficult to do around Brad. He always seemed to have something negative to say, he had an aire that shouted, ‘I’m better than you’. Still, Simon tried his best to avoid negative people like Brad and focus on better things.

“Keep in mind”, Brad continued, “just because you’re getting minimum wage doesn’t mean you don’t have a responsibility to treat this like a real job.”

Simon shut his locker. “Thanks, I’ll try to remember that. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to balance the pool.”

“Don’t bother”, Brad interjected, “we do that at 10:00 remember, it’s now 10:30”.

“Look, I said that I already know that I was late, give it a rest.” Simon replied, trying not to get angry.

“Yeah, ok, speaking of half-assing it, are you still wasting your time trying to teach that Benning boy to swim?”

Simon immediately became irritated when he heard the negative talk about Charlie. “Lay off of him, he’s a good kid.”

“I’m just sayin’, you can’t turn a lump of shit into gold”

Simon looked intensely into brad’s eyes, unblinking. “Brad, knock it off, I’m serious. Why don’t you go do something useful, last time I checked, you were the same pay grade as I am.”

With that, Brad put up his hands in the defensive and turned the other way. “Whatever man, it’s your life.”

Simon decided to let it go, it wasn’t worth it, besides his first class was about to start, no point losing his job over an arrogant coworker.

Morning quickly turned to afternoon; time flew by so fast that he hardly realized that it was time to start the children’s swim class. He hoped that Charlie would show up, he hoped taking the boy home the previous night hadn’t caused him too much trouble at home. Finally it came, his favorite part of the day, the two large doors opened and in ran the children, smiling and laughing. Charlie lagged a little behind the group, instantly breaking into a smile when he saw Simon. A feeling of pride swelled inside of him, this was the first moment when he realized that he really was making a difference in his new second chance of his life. Everything was going to work out just fine, what an amazing feeling.

One thought occurred to him however. If he really wanted to step it up, he should try to do something for Charlie that no one ever took the time to do, he would succeed in teaching Charlie to swim. Charlie was nervous but finally ready to learn. For the next couple weeks Simon used every trick and lesson that he knew, but to no avail. Charlie just never seemed to even begin to grasp the concept, he never made any head weigh. This really started to frustrate Simon. He was the best swim coach in the place, maybe even in the whole district; he should be able to teach Charlie to swim in half this time. Failure was not an option; he’d never failed before, there really wasn’t any reason to start now.

He had a plan, his last ditch effort to teach the boy. Next session, he would push Charlie harder than ever before. The next day, when little Charlie came into the gym, Simon informed him of his intents. He told him that today was the day that he would learn how to swim. Charlie was thrilled to hear it, however, his smile faded when Simon told him how it was going to happen. Charlie would have to do it alone. No water wings, no Simon in the pool guiding him along, in fact, Simon wouldn’t be in the pool with him at all, he would guide Charlie from the poolside. Charlie would have to learn to swim by his own ambition, find symmetry between him and the water, gain an understanding and make it to the other side of the pool. Charlie became very fearful and started to tear up, ‘I can’t do it alone!’ he cried. Simon knelt beside him and reassured him that he had equipped the boy with all the skills he needed, finally Charlie gave him his trust.

Slowly and cautiously, Charlie stepped into the pool. As he hung onto the side, Simon knelt next to him.

“This is it, take all the skills I’ve taught you and apply them to this very moment. You can swim Charlie; you can swim like a fish!” Simon exclaimed with great excitement.

Clearly no other person had ever had confidence in the boy, never gave him a reassuring word of advice because Charlie smiled wider than he ever had before. The innocent boy put his complete faith in his teacher.

***

Charlie turned, his back to the pool wall, facing the ocean of water before him. He was scared, but he was determined to make Simon proud. With a great boost he used his legs to shove off the wall, thrusting himself into the water. Using the ‘doggy paddle’ style that coach had taught him, he stroked the water with his hands, arms and legs. He couldn’t believe it, he was doing it! He was moving across the water, now almost five feet from the pool wall. He was staying afloat, he was propelling himself forward, and he was swimming! He hoped it wasn’t just luck.

At ten feet in, still moving his arms and legs at the same intensity, his body began to sink below the water line. He flailed his arms even faster, struggling to stay above the water. He began to get very tired. Water began filling his open mouth, swallowing half of it; he spat water as he begged Simon to come help him out of the water.

Simon watched disbelieving from the pool side as Charlie suffered in the water. He just didn’t understand, what was happening? Charlie was doing so well at the beginning, why would he give up now? He watched as Charlie’s hands began to flail faster and Simon hoped that it was the boy getting his second wind. However, after an instant, the boy began to move more slowly, falling deeper below the surface of the water. Breathing in as much chlorine tainted water as oxygen, Charlie mustered as much energy as he could and weakly screamed from the pool. “Help me Simon! Simon help!” The boy’s head and face began to disappear below the water as the boy started to drown.

Simon wouldn’t just stand by and watch poor Charlie drown, after all, he had the skills and knowledge to rise above the water and swim back to safety. All he needed was a little encouragement. Simon yelled to the boy.

“C’mon Charlie! Swim! You can do it! Don’t give up now, don’t be a quitter! You’re not a quitter are you?! Don’t be a loser like your old man! I can’t help you; you have to do this on your own! Swim damn it! Try harder!”

Simon was so focused on the boy and his own frustration that he didn’t even notice when Brad came running into the room. Now Simon really didn’t like Brad, he ignored him and continued his verbal assault on the drowning boy.

The boy in the pool had completely stopped moving, he lied motionless in the still water, his whole body now completely below the surface of the water. Simon watched as Brad ran up to the side of the pool, prepared to dive in and try to save the boy. Before he could reach the edge, he was completely caught off guard as Simon came from behind. Simon grabbed him by the waist and used all his strength to throw Brad away from the pool. Brad fell hard to the concrete, rolling while trying to protect his head.

“What the hell is wrong with you Simon? He’d dying!” Brad screamed.

Simon turned toward him, his face full of rage, “Brad, stay back! You never cared about him, you don’t know him! He can do this, I’ve taught him well, he can do it!”

“Jesus Christ!” Brad screamed back, “he’s dead, it’s over, and you killed him!”

Suddenly it hit him like a wall, Charlie was no longer moving, he wasn’t breathing or begging for help, he was limp and motionless, dead in the water. He had failed, he failed himself and Charlie. He didn’t know what to do, so he sat. He sat down next to the pool, Indian style, and put his hands on his head. Everything was becoming a blur, the world before him began blending together. The events unfolded around him like a distorted collage. Brad diving into the pool…Brad giving the boy mouth to mouth…Brad running out of the room…the police picking him off the ground and putting him in handcuffs. Simon didn’t care what was happening; he just kept thinking the same thing over and over. He had spent close to a year training Charlie and this is how he repaid him? The boy clearly had no respect for his instructor, maybe he deserved to die.

***

Simon had his day in court. Needless to say, it didn’t go well. What Simon had thought was a nourishing friendship to a lonely boy was conveyed as stalking, kidnapping and child abuse by hungry prosecutors. There was no talk of his years of helping the youth of the world, his dedication to treating everyone with respect or any of the good things that Simon had strived to achieve in this life. No one in this courtroom knew of him in his previous life, yet they conveyed him as the same evil man with a penchant for pain. They didn’t know that he knew a life where many innocent souls perished at his hands, yet they portrayed him in the same way for the death of one. He could never erase the scowls and anger in the eyes of the jurors when they looked at him. In a world where one couldn’t even turn on the news without seeing a story of death, theft, kidnapping or worse, there wasn’t room in their hearts for the murderer of an innocent child. The opening statements alone turned Simon into a blood thirsty monster, things could only get worse.

Charlie’s father testified, of course this was the day that he cleaned himself up, speaking as soberly and elegantly as he could muster. Presentation was everything. He told the jury how Simon had taken Charlie to his home without consent. He claimed that Charlie complained about being tired from being out to all hours of the night training. He said that Charlie would come home in a defeated state, arms aching from the constant repetitive motions he was forced to learn. The lush continued by telling the court that he suspected that Charlie was being beaten by Simon. Of course this was just a story so that no one would suspect that the sources of Charlie’s bruises were caused by the father himself. However ridiculous these claims were, the jury bought it.

When Simon was brought up to the stand, things got exponentially worse. Everything he said was spun and twisted to make the jury believe that Simon was completely to blame. When he mentioned how special a boy Charlie was, it was spun by prosecutors to say that such an intimate and special relationship was inappropriate for a man and a 10-year-old boy who weren’t family. When Simon pleaded again and again how it was an accident, the lawyers twisted to prove that such an ‘accident’ could only occur is Simon had indeed been working the youth too hard. They went on to say that a sometimes difficult skill such as learning to swim should never be as stressful as to induce fear and death to an innocent child. While Simon tried and tried to think of one, he could never come up with a reason of why the courts were coming down so hard on him. If only everyone cared so much about children as Simon cared about Charlie then the world would be a perfect place. Apparently he was the only one who saw it that way. The final straw was when Brad took the stage.

Brad gave a moment by moment testimony of the events that occurred from the instant he ran into the pool area till Charlie’s final breaths.

“He was like a crazed maniac”, he began. “Charlie was clearly in danger, he couldn’t even keep his head above the water, but there was Simon, screaming taunts at the boy, even when it was clear that there was no hope of saving him. I attempted to dive in, try to save him but Simon pushed me back with what seemed to be inhuman strength, his rage was fueling him. Then Simon turned his attention back to the boy in the pool and continued his fuming rant. I took the chance, pushed past Simon and dove into the pool. I got the boy in my arms and began swimming him to the edge. Suddenly Simon stopped screaming; he stopped doing anything, just sat down there next to the pool and watched me struggle with the kid. There was no emotion in his face, none what so ever, he just sat there with his head in his hands. I tried my best to resuscitate Charlie but there was no hope, he died there in the water.”

There were no further questions, he had said it all. Now Simon hated Brad, he hated the jurors, the judge, the lawyers, hated everyone. He was filled with disgust and there was nothing he could do but stew in it. The jury deliberation lasted only minutes, and then the unforgiving judge sentenced Simon Whitfield to death by electrocution.

Simon didn’t know where he was, he felt lost again. Just as in a previous life, still not fully understanding where he was and how he got here. He tried to lie to himself, convince himself that he was in a good place, alas when it all came clear he was back in that familiar place, resuming his long walk down that same cold dark hall to his true fate. As he passed the cold metal bars, the dampness of a prison, he knew what was waiting for him. Not for the murder of 26 innocent souls in cold blood, but for the death of one young boy. A boy he thought the world of and had let down. He’d never understood where the rage had come from. In his second chance at life, he had tried his hardest to be a different person but it seemed his soul had always been dark. He has the same sick mind, just in different wrapping. A second chance at life ends in a second failed attempt. In his mind he hopes that the beautiful goddess will appear again, take pity on him and give him just one more opportunity. A third chance to get it right, is that so selfish to ask for? Of course it is, he knows, that she won’t be coming. So few are given a second chance, his has come and gone and now he is lead to his fate. The electric chair stands, waiting.

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