Who Killed Lolita Blaze?

He heard the disturbing noise of the dry hinge of the door of his bright office, hot and filled with strangling afternoon sunshine. It was stuffy in the office. Hopefully, this would be the last counselee of the day. He had tried to turn up the air conditioning, but it was broken. The air conditioner was emitting a slight breeze of cool air, but it didn’t go up. It was better than in the winter, however, because the machine had been that way all year. It gave off cool air in the winter, making his pointy nose red and numb. He had to drink a lot of hot tea to keep himself warm. He didn’t like coffee.

“Hi, Martin.”

It was a girl. He didn’t recognize her at first. He pretended to pull out her counseling card and looked up the schedule for the day. It said “5:45pm—Lolita Blaze.” He looked up at her and recognized her. The girl had been counseled a few times before. Man, he thought, she has problems. She claimed that her friends “alienated” her for “unknown” reasons when she first came. Martin had tried to ask her questions and figure out why her friends would alienate her. Then her other problem was revealed, the anger problem. She got into a rage and stormed out of the office. The next time she came, Martin tried to tell her about her anger problem. She swore that was not it. “Observe me, Martin.” She said. “Observe me and tell me what the problem is the next time I come, okay?” He agreed. For the next three weeks, he completely forgot about that promise hanging out with his own friends. Two additional meetings ended with Lolita screaming at Martin and running out of the office. The last time she had come, she had tried to break a window. Martin had stopped her barely on time.

“Hi, Dolores.”

The first thing that came into his mind when she asked to find out why her friends would hate her was her name. Obviously, Lolita was not the kind of name the best parents would give to their daughter. Everyone called her Dolores or Lo instead of Lolita. Lolita was one of the very rare names which get teased more as the owner gets older. However, Martin eliminated the possibility quickly because the chances that enough people at school have read Lolita to be able to make fun of the name was so slight.

“Did you observe me, Martin? Did you figure out why I’m hated?”

“Yeah, I’ve actually done that. But I honestly do not see any reason you would be hated except that anger problem. Now, don’t…”

“It’s not the anger problem. How many times do I have to tell you it’s not?”

“I really think you have to figure it out yourself. You can’t expect your counselor to find out your problems for you, Dolores.”

“Then what’s a counselor for?”

“To… Advise you of the way you can solve your problems. Look, I have my own life. I’m… I’m not like a professional counselor, you know, I have my own life apart from counseling. That’s probably why I’m called a peer counselor.”

Lolita was silent for a while. She didn’t move a cell on her face. She was completely still for a second or two. Then she spoke again.

“Do you see me around?”

“Of course I see you around. You told me you had the same lunch period as me, didn’t you?”

“You’re assuming that you see me around.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

She was right because Martin, in fact, did not see her around.

“Okay, I don’t, satisfied?”

Great, she’s going to have that anger stroke again, Martin thought. Lolita was calm, unlike his predictions. She was, actually, rather indifferent than calm.

“Martin, why doesn’t anyone call me Lolita?”

“Er… Because Lolita is supposed to be sexual and all, I guess.”

“But that’s like saying I don’t deserve to be called the name of such a nymphet.”

“I didn’t say that! God, Dolores, I feel just funny calling anyone Lolita.”

He felt his lies once again. He was surprised at himself not feeling guilty about lying to her. She, again, sat there with the cold indifference. Martin wondered if she was getting treatment for her anger problem. This was usually the point she started screaming. He suddenly realized that he hardly knew her. Yet he would be one of the people who knew her the most. He wondered what she was good at.

“I like you very much, Martin. I really do.” She told him blankly as she rummaged through her bookbag.

“Um, thanks.”

“Oh, joy.”

Then the maddest thing happened. Lolita was holding a gun all of a sudden. She smiled very broadly then screamed: “Help! He’s going to kill me!” Before he could stop her, she put the gun on her forehead and triggered. When she fell, Martin realized that he loved her, that she was the only one he had loved in the world.

* * *

He never recalled that moment clearly; he just remembered that she wasn’t that fast and he could stop her if he did. When the security guard ran into the counselor’s office, he thought both Martin and Lolita were dead because Martin was stunned on the floor, pale as dead, soaked in Lolita’s blood.




I feel like such a fucking emo for writing this.