The cold seeps into his body as the warmth of his blood tries to fight it off. It was no use. Once again, the cold won and Solomon caved into his body’s demands as he laid out two mugs ready to be filled with the scorching hot chocolate that had just come off the stovetop. A knock at the door caused the warm chocolate to splatter on the kitchen floor as Solomon grinned and went to open the door. “You’re just on time”, Solomon offered a reassuring smile as he turned back to go lock the door. He was excited to gain another friend. 

… 

Solomon sat in the corner as he watched. He watched as girls gossiped about the latest new couple. He watched as boys high-fived each other for eating the most hotdogs. He watched as kids discussed their weekend plans. He watched as the lunch ladies shared a french fry and finally, when the lunch room had lost all of its noise and it was left with only lonely tables and abandoned chairs, he finally felt like he belonged.  

… 

Solomon checked another off the list, he was beginning to lose count. At some point, the faces began to blend into a series of muddled colors, losing their distinctive features, they all melded together to become one. 

…

Solomon sat in the corner and he watched. Except, this time he wasn't watching the lunchroom. Solomon sat by the pond and he watched the fish as they swam. The school of them always stayed together, none of them left behind. If only fish were like humans. Oh, if only fish were like humans. 

… 

He walked up behind him and hit Sam in the back of the head with a hammer. The sharp hollow crack of his skull as his body left an indentation in front of the couch. The room filled with the smell of metal as his body lay at his feet, the lifeless green eyes, just like the tops of trees, looking up at him. 

… 

Solomon sat in the corner and he watched. He watched as his siblings played as they laughed when they fell to the ground, contended by the small joys of life. “Hey, can I play”, shouted Solomon. It was pointless. Of course Solomon couldn’t play, there was a new excuse every time. Sometimes the game only involved two people. Sometimes Solomon was too small to play. Other times, the answer “no” was given without any explanation. A tear slipped out of his eye but by then there was no stopping it. Tears were flowing as pieces of his heart slowly crumbled away. From then on, Solomon pledged to himself that he would never be lonely.  Never be lonely again. 

Solomon wished he could have explained this when the police showed up at his house. Solomon wished he could have explained it so that they would understand. All he wanted was for them to understand. They were the only people that mattered. But of course, he couldn’t. There was no real explanation. All he knew was that he was no longer alone. They were there. 

The clock read 2:43 am when he heard a knock on the door. He tried to lay back down and fall asleep. Suddenly, the knocks were repeated. Then repeated again. Three quick taps on his door rang out with a metal shrill, echoing throughout the house and ringing in his ears. Getting up, he looked through the peephole of his small apartment and fell back into a shock.

He was trapped, yet he knew what he saw was real. It had to be real. They showed up at his house in the middle of the night. He thought he was in the clear. There was no way they traced the murders to him. He was careful. There was no way he could have been caught, at least not this soon. But yet, it wasn't real. Nothing was real. 

And so, Solomon watched. Solomon watched as he lost the only friends he had truly ever had. As Solomon’s hands felt the cool sting of the officer’s hands on his back he watched as his friends slowly waned into the darkness to become no more than a distant memory. 

…

The police found him in the corner, stuck in a fetal position as if nursing himself back to life. “You have been missing”, one officer knelt down as if not to disturb him, as if he was a sleeping baby not to be woken up. “You’ve been missing for ten years”, the officer repeated. Solomon waited for them to lug the bodies out of the house. Of course they never did. There were no bodies. 

    … 

When Solomon was eleven years old, he was diagnosed with Schizophrenia. 

   … 

And so, the story unfolds. Solomon was not a murder. No. He had never killed anyone. Ten years ago Solomon left his family. No one had seen or heard from him during those past few years. That was until the police came. They took him and everything he had ever loved. That’s when he knew it. He would die right then and there with his friends. He was not going to lose them. A smile washed over his face. He took the officer's gun and slowed the beat of his heart. He was not lonely anymore. He was never going to be lonely again. His soul would stay with them. Finally, he was just like the fish.