"Who the hell are you?" Carl asked, tightly gripping my face and covering my mouth.

How was I supposed to answer with his grubby fingers covering my mouth? I tried speaking and only mumbles came out, ending with Carl's hand covered in spit. Carl pushed the knife closer to my throat, pressing the dull end directly into my Adam's apple, and then wiped the spit off on my t-shirt.

I was in a rather precarious situation. Carl and Billy were mortal enemies, and I didn't know how to answer Carl's question without getting stabbed. If I told him I was Billy, another fight might break out, only this time Carl was armed. If I told him I was actually Vincent and some freaky shit was happening, who knows how Carl might react.

Stabbing me. He would probably react by stabbing me.

I decided the only leverage I had in this situation was to keep my real identity a secret, and to do that I had to put on the performance of a lifetime. I had to pretend to be Billy. Since I had access to Billy's memories, hopefully my impression would be able to convince Carl.

"Eww, I can taste the Cheeto dust on your fingers, fatso. Ever heard of washing your hands?"

Carl slapped me hard across the face. This wasn't good. In all of Billy's memories Carl had never stood up for himself before. Calling him names, booking him in the hallways, it didn't matter what Billy did, Carl always took the brunt of it and pretended it wasn't happening. Not anymore. This was a whole new Carl, and thus Billy's memories weren't going to be any help to get him to crack. I was in uncharted waters now. I had to improvise.

"My Mom hits harder than you."

Shit. No. That wasn't the direction I wanted to take this conversation. I'm sorry, but I'm nervous on account of the knife being held at my throat!

"There! You did it again!" Carl made sure not to raise his voice even though it was clear he was getting worked up. "How come you're talking like him?"

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about, Fat Tits." I tried to squint and look angry so that Carl couldn't see the look of recognition in my eyes.

"I'm going to ask you a question, and I want an honest answer or you're getting skewered."

"Eat dirt."

"When you were at Vincen't funeral you said something to me. You asked me 'how I liked getting shoved?' When was the last time I shoved you?"

I went pouring through Billy's memories. Come on, Billy bullied Carl practically every single day. There had to be at least one moment where he shoved him, tapped him, gave him a gentle push, anything!

There! After school. Beginning of September. As Billy was leaving school to head to the bus Carl pushed him and tried to get him to fall down the concrete staircase. Billy barely moved, turned around and gave Carl the stinky eye, and walked away like nothing happened.

"When you tried to get me to fall down the stairs. Didn't think you had it in you."

Carl thought about it for a moment, and realized I was right, but something still felt off.

"You called me a 'big boned bitch.' You've never called me that before."

"Well you are a fat bitch," I said, "I gotta keep the insults fresh or you'll get used to them."

"I said that to Vincent the night he died. I said, 'I'm not fat, I'm big-'"

"Boned? Like from South Park? Do you think you're the only kid who watches South Park? It's the most popular show in the world right now, dipshit."

"And just now," Carl said, "you said 'your mom hits harder' than me. The last thing Billy said to me was that his mom plays Smash better than me. What the hell is going on?"

I could see Carl's eyes searching for answers as the wheels were turning in his head. I only had one last chance to really convince him that I was Billy. I had to make it good.

"Screw you, Fat Ass."

Crap, I blew it.

Carl extended his thumb down the spine of the paring knife he was wielding and poked it hard into my shoulder, so only just the tip pierced through. I was bleeding. I screamed, but Carl's hand was faster than my mouth. His fat fingers clamped my mouth shut, muffling the scream into nothing more than a groan.

"I didn't expect it when you pushed me over at the funeral. When I looked up I saw Vince. The way you moved, the way you spoke, it was like Vince was alive again. I'm more convinced of it now than ever. You're in there, aren't you Vince?"

My adrenaline was still surging from being poked with a knife, so I pulled away his hand and spit, "No!"

Carl quickly put his hand back over my mouth and poked again, this time in my thigh. Another muffled scream, where the hell was Billy's mean-ass Mom when I needed her? I'd love to see her stuff his fat ass in the safe downstairs, though I doubt he would fit.

Carl poked me again in the shoulder and I couldn't take it anymore.

"Yes, shit, okay! It's me! It's Vincent! There-are you happy? I'm in here!" I didn't know if admitting it would help, but I was running out of options and I really didn't want to get stabbed again. My white Packers t-shirt was starting to turn slightly red from the small stream of blood oozing out, I'd never be able to wear it to gym class again.

"I knew it!" Carl exclaimed. "Ever since you shoved me I could feel that you were still alive. Only, where the hell is Billy?"

"I don't know, I don't know anything, I just woke up like this, okay? Leave me alone!"

"Get up," Carl said, grabbing me by the t-shirt and gesturing over towards the open window, "we're leaving."

"Leaving where?" Everything was happening so fast, I could hardly believe I admitted I was in someone else's body, but Carl didn't even bat an eye.

"Just do what I say." Carl pulled me off the bed and stuck the spine of the knife in my back. He walked me over to my window. I had no idea Carl knew where Billy lived. Maybe he had planned on coming here but never worked up the courage. I could hardly blame him. The bullying Carl endured at school was awful. If it were me I'd want to find the kid responsible and teach him a lesson too.

As I looked out the window I saw the roof below, and beyond that I saw the shed. Carl must have climbed up the shed to get on to the roof and that's how he was able to get to my window. To think, I could have avoided this whole situation if Billy was smart enough to keep his window locked.

"I'm not going out there, let's just go out the front door," I said, hoping Carl would fall for it.

"What, so you can scream for Miss Ball?"

Damn, he didn't fall for it. I don't know where Carl is taking me, but I know it's not going to be good.

"Get your ass out on the roof now," Carl said, poking the knife harder into my back.

"Okay! Okay!" I put one leg out the window, ducked under, then pulled the other leg over. This might be my only chance to escape from Carl. He won't be able to get his fat ass through the window as quickly as me, and if I run I might be able to get enough distance to get some help.

That's what I thought, at least, but then I felt a good hard shove from behind, sending me falling to the roof and rolling off the edge. I tried to grab onto the gutters, but they buckled, and I slipped and fell down eight feet right onto my back. I let out a wheezing ugh as the air was knocked right out of me.

Quick I thought, I need to get up and get away, only my body was slow to recover from the fall. By the time I managed to get to my feet Carl was already there, knife in hand.

"Start walking." Carl spoke and I had no choice but to obey. I had been stabbed, shoved, thrown off a roof, there's no telling what Carl was going to do next, but I worried that he was going to kill me. Or, kill me again I should say.

Carl started leading me past Billy's backyard and into the long green field behind Billy's house. For about a mile there were no houses in any direction, just wild grass and a small stream that existed because of a sewer pipe that rain water drained into. Carl walked me away from Billy's house and towards the stream, and then we turned and started following the stream up in a direction that was familiar to me.

Was Carl taking me back to my house? I mean, MY my house, Vince's house.

I didn't know if Carl knew where I lived, but we were definitely walking towards my Mom's. If he knew where Billy lived, it's possible he knew where I lived too. Maybe Carl wasn't going to kill me, maybe he was going to help me convince my Mom that I was still alive.

"Okay, stop here," Carl said at the tributary of the runoff. About a hundred feet away from us was a large cement sewer pipe. Water was running out of it even though it hadn't rained in over a week. I had sometimes hung out around the sewer pipe before, this field was large enough that you could play football or even hit golf balls without worrying about ending up in someone's yard. I never went into the sewer pipe though because it was dark, scary, and worst of all it was wet. For the longest time I was convinced toilet water came out of the pipe.

"What are we doing here, Carl?" I asked. "My house is that way."

"Why does that matter?"

"Aren't you taking me home?"

The look on Carl's face answered that question for me.

"I was really happy you came to my birthday, Vincent. Nobody's ever come to one of my parties before. You were the first."

"I'm glad I went," I said, trying not to sound scared. It's never good when the person holding you at knife point starts monologuing.

"You were the first person who ever did something nice for me. I thought we were gonna be best friends, but then you started making fun of me. That hurt, Vincent. I thought you were just like all the other bullies at school, and my anger started building, and I let it all out on you."

I could tell that Carl was feeling remorseful, and I needed to exploit that fact.

"Does my Mom know? That you killed me? Ernie said that I 'tripped.'"

"No, but mine does. My Dad knows too, he helped cover it up. My Mom won't look at me anymore, and my Dad's even worse. He's proud of me, calls me 'Killer' when my Mom's not around."

Jesus. I never stopped to think how messed up Carl's life would be after murdering me. Wait, no, screw that! This is the guy who murdered me for crying out loud! He doesn't deserve my sympathy!

"You're a real prick for what you did to me. Hell, what you're doing to me now! Can't you just leave me alone and let me live out my days as Billy Ball?"

"I can't do that," Carl said, "since you died not a single person has bullied me. Everybody feels bad since I had to watch you die on my birthday." I felt a punch in my stomach. When I looked down my shirt was turning red. I felt cold, and then the pain kicked in.

"What the hell?" I barely managed to spit out.

"Everybody wants to be my friend now. What would they think if they found out what I did?"

Another punch, this time in my chest, and red, so much red. I wanted to scream, but couldn't force it out, I felt frozen. Then fear took over, my adrenaline surged, and I tried to fight. I shrieked as I clawed at Carl's eyes, trying to grab his hair, his ears, anything to get him away from me. The knife pierced me again, this time in my back.

With all of my strength I kicked Carl as hard as I could in the balls.

"Oh fuck!" Carl said, dropping to his knees. Now was my only chance, I turned and tried to run, but I was feeling woozy. All I could manage was a wobbly stumble. All the houses around me were too far away. I would never make it before Carl caught up to me. There was only one place I could go.

I had to enter the sewer pipe.