The Young Man Chronicles 2: I Am . . . I Think
December 28th 2008 03:50
~ The wise do not meddle in the affairs of witches and wolves. ~
_____ PART 1: The End
_____ The bloody fingerprint stains on the cigarette took a surprisingly pleasing pattern as I inhaled drag after drag. Had I thought of it beforehand, it probably would have made some pretty interesting art. Too late now, I guess.
_____ I shuddered, the shock setting in was making me cold, and the sight of my blood trickling down my arm and off my fingertips was fascinatingly gruesome. I hacked, coughed, wheezed. I'm not a smoker-- I never really was. I mean, there was that short stint with the opium back in '96, but I only did that for a year or two.
_____ "Two," said Dagon.
_____ "More like one and a half," corrected the ever-practical Malcolm.
_____ "A year or two, I said," I reitterated.
_____ The smoke rose from my fingertips and nostrils, rising languidly, and filling the air like dragon's breath.
_____ "To watch the world burn," Dagon suddenly chuckled through darkly clenched teeth.
_____ Nobody asked him what he was talking about. We didn't want to know, and yet somehow, on some instinctual level, we all felt that we understood-- just as Dagon knew we would.
_____ Carmilla shuddered. She was cold, too.
_____ "Don't worry," I assured her, "it's all going to end soon."
_____ "Like this?" she asked, ready to cry, "But you promised. You swore it to everyone, even yourself."
_____ "Especially yourself," said Malcolm.
_____ "Promises are made to be broken," Dagon chimed in.
_____ I ignored them all. It was too late to do anything about it, anyway. Carmilla was going to get what she deserved, exactly like the rest of us. She was no better than us-- only better at fooling everyone else.
_____ "Oh my God!" rang out the disturbed voice of some unnoticed woman. She rushed over to me. "Are you okay?!" her voice desperate and frightened.
_____ She looked at me the same way she spoke-- her eyes wide open, becoming bloodshot, and darting from my body, to my arm, to my face, and back again.
_____ "You need to get to a hospital," she said, a little more controlled now. Gee, that sure was a helpful suggestion.
_____ "I'm not at the hospital already?" I asked, my eyes affixed to hers, and starting to glaze.
_____ "He's just being coy," Dagon smirked.
_____ I sighed. I didn't want to go to the hospital. People are always dying in hospitals. It's so depressing.
_____ "You're dying," Malcolm pointed out. "You'll probably bleed out before you even make it to the hospital."
_____ It was a good argument. I had already been bleeding here in this plush leather recliner for several unknown minutes. Ten? Twenty?
_____ Whatever it was, my arm was sliced open from the base of my thumb to the opposite corner of my elbow, and I wasn't long for this world.
_____ "Don't be so dramatic," Malcolm ordered flatly.
_____ Apparently, this new lady had called an ambulance or something, because as she snapped her cellphone shut, she touched my unwounded arm and said they would be here soon. Wouldn't it be funny if she had actually called some of her thug friends to come steal my keys and rob my apartment? I had the keys and my I.D. on me, and it would have been easy to take them off my body.
_____ "Most people don't think like that!" snapped Carmilla.
_____ "How would you know?" Dagon sneered, "You just fuck everyone you meet! And if you're not fucking them, you're -trying- to fuck them!"
_____ They always fought like that. they hated each other.
_____ Dagon hissed, "I hate you, too."
_____ I finally recognized the woman. She was the super-intendent of the building. I guess that makes sense. I'm in my apartment lobby, right?
_____ "Stop playing games, retard, you know where you are!" Dagon growled.
_____ "No, he's not pretending this time," Malcolm observed.
_____ Carmilla agreed, and said, "Why don't you all just leave him alone?"
_____ Then there were sirens. Flashing lights. The automatic doors slid open and the paramedics and police came rushing in. their voices were urgent but proffessional. They shouted at me in words I didn't understand, or know if I should understand. They shouted at each other in the same alien language. It was getting harder to hear them, they kept moving further away, so quickly. Someone dimmed the lights, and all grew quiet.
_____ Am I here? Was I ever?
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_____ PART 2: The Beginning
_____ It all started with that Native girl-- well, Inuit, actually. I met her after a terrible break-up with an ex who tried to poison me in my sleep. I guess after your girl tries to kill you, the relationship is pretty much done. Ours was well done; -very- well. I didn't press charges, though. Hell, I didn't even report her. It was almost cute, in a way. She soaked a rag in bleach, then tried to cover my mouth and nose with it. I woke quickly, hacking and sputtering. She was quite the tiny thing, (and a rock star in the sack!) and wasn't nearly big enough to hold me down.
_____ She sat back on my bed, disappointed and dejected, her hands falling gentley into her lap. She looked at me with her big, beautiful, brown eyes, and chipmunk cheeks.
_____ "What the HELL are you doing?!" I shouted, yelling at her for only the second time ever.
_____ "I wanted to see what would happen," was all she could offer.
_____ Upon the realisation that she had just tried to kill me, I couldn't help my first thought: Aww, and I didn't get -you- anything.
_____ What I said, however, was, "Next time, try it on yourself!"
_____ I didn't mean it. I loved her, I'd always love her-- it was like someone else's words had spewed violently from my mouth. That happened too often, lately. I hated it. Still, there's something to be said for the direct approach to a break-up. She moved out soon after, and I got a new room mate: Rob, he went by. Rob was an odd one, and his real name was Allan. When I asked him why he went by Rob, all he would say was, "I like it better." He was a photographer, and a pretty damned good one, at that.
_____ Rob would often spend hours setting up his shots, and hours more, taking them. He turned the livingroom into his personal studio, and I didn't mind as I never used it, anyway. On my days off, now lacking a girlfriend and having nothing better to do, I would watch him work. You know, photography can be a very interesting art. The lighting, the angles, adjustments on the camera . . . The subjects.
_____ He often shot models, and had them doing-- uh, well . . . Model-y things. I watched with rapt fascination as woman after beautiful woman paraded through our livingroom; even the otherwise plain-looking girls he photographed somehow looked stunning in his pictures. I didn't know how he did it-- I guess he just had the touch. It was that fateful day, when he shot the Inuit girl, that changed everything.
_____ She was from Nunavut, and I never could remember or pronounce the name of her people-- but her name dripped off my tongue and lips like the sweetest honey: Anahute. She was five feet and ten inches tall, eyes of obsidian, and had an ass so pert and beautiful I actually wanted to drop to my knees and cry. She was only 20 years old, and if I make it another six months, I'll be 30-- but DAMN, was she ever gorgeous. When we met, I looked into her eyes, and she into mine, and without breaking our gaze, I offered her my hand. She took it and shook it, also taking care not to break the stare. I held her hand far longer than I needed to for the handshake, but not nearly as long as I wanted to-- and she didn't seem to mind.
_____ My first words to her were, "Will you marry me?" I think I may have come off a little strong. She didn't respond to it well at first, her body shifting away from me, and her eyes searching as her brain tried to populate a "gentle let-down". I searched as well, trying to come up with a quick recovery for a botched attempt at half-true humor.
_____ She must have noticed my panic, because suddenly she said, "Well that depends: can you puncture a hole through an inch of wood with nothing but your penis?"
_____ The first thing that came to mind was, "What kind of wood?"
_____ "It shouldn't matter," she replied, "Sorry, a girl's gotta have her standards." Then she winked at me-- I think I fell in love at that very moment.
_____ She came back to model on several occasions, each time I drew her out more and more, and she would stay just a little longer and longer after every shoot. I learned that she grew up in an Inuit community, she loved the snow, she had had a difficult childhood due to family problems, and she loved candy even more than I do. She was actually just a little bit crazy-- funny, really, because that's exactly how I like 'em.
_____ She learned about me quite a bit, as well. Many of my darkest secrets and most twisted desires spilled out of me unhindered, and once again she didn't seem to mind. How can I be sure? Well, she put those desires to the test when she rocked my world in bed. If I never had sex again in my life, I could still die happily knowing that I had made love to a goddess-- one who could read my every erotic thought, and desired to please me as much as I desired to please her. The best part, though, is that I -did- get to make love to her again, and many, many times, in fact! We were absolutely, undeniably, perfect for each other in the bedroom. I never wanted to bed another woman again, and I never wanted to let her go. I should never have even allowed myself those thoughts.
_____ I was ambitious, I had big dreams of big business. I got a job as a sales representative in a jewelry shop, selling beautiful pieces with all kinds of gems. I wanted to own my own shop, and I had some devious plots to take this one over-- it was just a matter of time-- but Anahute had her own ambitions. She was a smart girl, and she loved math and science; she particularly loved astronomy, and soon she would leave for university to pursue that dream. I once jokingly told her that she couldn't go, and she punched me hard in the arm.
_____ "What-ever! What-ever! I'll do whut I WAHNT!" she cited, of one of our mutually favourite cartoons.
_____ As time passed, we grew ever closer. We started dating, and had immense fun together. One night on our way home from a movie, the crisp, cold air mixing well with a lingering hint of wood smoke from some unseen chimney, we noticed an increasingly rapid "clop clop clop"ing sound approaching quickly behind us. I stopped suddenly, and turned on my toes to face whatever it was coming up behind us-- it appeared to be a jogger, so I turned back around and we resumed our walk as he passed. We turned the corner and began walking through an alley near our building when I was suddenly hit in the head with something hard. I dropped to the ground.
_____ When I turned to look up at my assailant, I was only able to make out the rounded end of some blunt instrument coming quickly toward my face. I have quick reflexes, though, and managed to deftly move my head to the side, and roll up onto my feet. My head throbbed and pounded from the first wounding blow I received. I now saw that there were three attackers. Young guys, barely more than kids. Two of them were holding Anahute down, tearing at her clothes, while the third guy came at me again. He had a security baton, the kind that telescopes out with the hard metal nub at the end. He swung it at me, and I dodged to the side again, bringing up my foot in a tremendous kick to his groin. His legs buckled and he crashed to the ground. I turned to save Anahute, only to meet a knife at my throat. There was no threat, and no warning, for in a single swift movement, the man cut my throat and punched me in the face, sending me sprawling.
_____ As I lay conscious and choking on my own blood, the last thing I saw was the men running off, the first man I fought giving me a good kick in the back before taking off as well. My vision faded. I awoke some time later, and struggled to turn even slightly left or right-- everything appeared to me as though I was staring through clear, crude, stained glass. "Anahute," I tried to say, my voice nothing more than a ghost of a whisper. I felt lips press to my cheek and forehead, and as my sight cleared, I saw her standing before me, tears streaming down her face.
_____ "I'm so glad you're awake!" she bawled, and lay her head against my chest, her arms draped gracefully over me. "We didn't know if you would come to, or if you'd even live!"
_____ I tried to chuckle. "What are you talking about, Baby? We've just barely gotten to know each other, I'm not ready to check out yet!"
_____ She forced a laugh through her tears, and continued sobbing into my chest.
_____ "I love you," I said, my voice entirely inaudible this time. She never knew. I fell asleep again.
_____ When I next awoke, Anahute wasn't with me. I called for the nurse, and when she came in (several minutes later), I asked her if Anahute had gone home.
_____ "No, actually," the nurse explained, "Anahute didn't make it through your event the other night unharmed. The men who attacked you beat her pretty badly, and a few hours after you fell asleep yesterday," (Yesterday?) "she developed some internal complications. She will probably be okay, but it's a good thing she was already here in the hospital, because it could have been much worse. When she's okay to walk again, I'm sure she'll come back in to see you."
_____ "I want to see her now," I demanded, and tried to get up. An orderly stood next to the foot of my bed, and put out a massive arm to hault me. He shook his head slowly, a big friendly smile on his face.
_____ "You need to rest now," he said, "you're in no condition to be exerting yourself like that. Just be patient, you'll see her again soon, Bro,"
_____ I growled inwardly. He was nice, but what he said pissed me off-- probably more than it should have.
_____ "I'll cut your fucking heart out and shove it up her twat!" I screamed, pointing at the nurse. I slapped my hand over my own mouth, surprised, in disbelief I would say something like that to these people who were being so kind to me. "I'm sorry," I admitted immediately. Both of them looked shocked and confused, but quietly accepted my apology. "I don't know what came over me. I don't feel like myself."
_____ The nurse told me it was okay, it was probably the shock of my "event" and the medication messing with my head, and the orderly just smirked and took a seat.
_____ "I'm sure you'll feel better once you get to see your girl," he said. I fell asleep again.
_____ The third time I woke, Anahute was standing over my bed again, looking down at me with drowsy but happy eyes. "Hey there, Hero," she smiled at me.
_____ "Hero?" I asked, genuinely curious.
_____ "Yeah," she said, "if you hadn't fought those guys the other night, I probably would have been raped and killed. As it happens, I got away with just a few internal injuries, and I'm going to be fine now. The doctors said I can leave in a few days-- maybe even tomorrow if everything seems good,"
_____ "Hey, that's great!" I said, my voice a bit stronger now, "I wonder when they'll let me out."
_____ "Probably not for a while longer," she said somberly, "after all, your trachea was cut open pretty bad. The doctors put you back together, but you're going to spend a lot of time healing it back up."
_____ I grinned, "Bah, that's no problem for this hero. I can do that time like nothin'!"
_____ She smiled at me, and all my problems melted away like cotton candy in a torrential rain. I slept again. Anahute woke me up deliberately, this time.
_____ "Hey, I'm going home today. Alice," that was her room mate and dear friend, "is driving me home. I just want to get a few things, and then I'll be back to wait for you to get better.
_____ "You don't need to do that," I said, still hoping she would, "Just go home and relax. Have a good time, you can just come visit me for a while each day until I'm able to leave,"
_____ "Nuh-uh," she said, "I just want to get some things to prepare for a long wait here, and then I'll be right back. Do you want me to pick you up anything while I'm out?"
_____ "No," was all I said, with a smile. Despite recently having my throat slit, I was happier than I had been in a very long time. This girl actually cared about me, and showed me that she cared in ways that even my previous girlfriends had never done for me. She owned my heart, and I wanted her to never give it back. So I laid back and accepted that she would come back to me, and she left with that promise. With nothing better to do, yet again, I fell asleep.
_____ This time, I awoke suddenly, a cold sweat on my brow and my breath coming to me in sharp pants. I looked around, frantic, and saw that I was alone in the room; the clock said 8:20-- odd how it looks like a frown. I laid down, resting and calming myself, as I didn't feel anything physically wrong, and assumed that I just had a bad dream. I laid awake for hours, waiting for Anahute to come back, but she didn't. I didn't know what to think, and actually found myself getting angry again.
_____ ~She lied to you,~ I thought, ~She's not coming back because she's going to be bored off her ass, and you're not exactly fine company right now, Mr. Sleeping Ugly.~
_____ ~Ridiculous,~ I thought to myself in reply, ~She's probably just late for some good reason, and will likely be here soon. Be patient.~
_____ ~I hope she's alright,~ I thought finally, before dozing back off.
_____ Once again, I awoke with a start. It also startled the nurse who had just walked into my room, and she gripped her chest for a moment, before continuing on a very forlorn-looking path toward my bed. Her feet dragged as she walked, and her head hung a bit lower than normal.
_____ "I need to talk to you," she said, "and it isn't going to be easy. I have terrible news."
_____ My heart froze, my throat was tight and constricted any words I might have possibly conceived, from ever leaving my mouth.
_____ "Anahute has been in an accident. Apparently it was right after she left the hospital. She was on her way home when Alice's car was struck by a pick-up truck on her side. Alice and the other driver died in the hospital, and Anahute--" she choked up a bit here, "-- died in the resulting fire of the crash. She was trapped in the car by the seatbelt. Her funeral will be in three days. I'm so sorry for your loss." Her voice was sincere. Her face showed how sad she was. She seemed to mirror the tiniest fraction of the pain I felt.
_____ I blinked. I didn't know what to say, and no words could describe the disbelief, confusion, frustration, and anger I was feeling.
_____ "You're wrong," I lied. I knew she wasn't. I could feel it. I remembered the clock-- 8:20, it said. Frowning at me. FUCK that clock. What right does it have to judge me? "FUCK YOU!" I screamed, for what scream I could manage. "You're fucking wrong! You're wrong! You're a fucking liar! YOU'RE A FUCKING LIAR!!!" I thrashed around, pulling at the restraints binding my wrists and ankles which I had, until just then, not even noticed. "LET ME GO! Let me out of here! I have to go see her! I have to call her! ANAHUTE, I love you!"
_____ "I need some help in here!" the nurse called out. Two large orderlies, a man and a woman, rushed in and held me down. I continued to fight and curse at each of them, screaming and spitting the most vile obscenities I could muster at them. The nurse produced a large needle, and shoved it quickly into my arm. This trend of my consciousness escaping my grasp was getting old, quick. As I faded away, I could only mutter, "She never knew I loved her. She never heard me say it. She never knew . . . She never . . ."
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_____ PART 3: Closure
_____ I was able to make it to her funeral. I had to carry an oxygen tank and I.V. with me, but I was able to go. An orderly escorted me. The casket was closed-- by suggestion of the coroner. I overheard that he had done everything possible to make her presentable, but the finished product was still less than magnificent. The proceedings began. People I didn't know, had never met or heard of got up and spoke about her as though they'd been her best friend. Maybe they were-- there was still a lot about Anahute I had been looking forward to learning; not that I would ever get the chance, now. I couldn't take it, and had to go to the rest room to splash my face with some cold water.
_____ As I wiped my face off with a paper towel, I was startled to suddenly see the reflection of a man, in the mirror, standing behind me. He was well dressed, donning a very business-looking three-piece Armani suit of crimson and black. His dark brown hair was slicked fully back, and his proffessionally-groomed goatee hung sharp on his face. I turned to face him.
_____ "Hey. I'm Dagon," he said, and offered his hand. I shook it. "Do you smoke?" he asked.
_____ I shook my head no.
_____ "Mind if I do?"
_____ Again, I shook my head. He lit up a cigarette, took a long drag, and sighed the smoke out through his nostrils. "How did you know Anahute," I inquired.
_____ "She was a lover of mine," he said. I bit my tongue and swallowed my jealousy. "You?"
_____ "She was--" I thought about it a moment, "She was a very dear friend of mine. She died on her way home from the hospital we were both in,"
_____ "Ahh," he said, his voice distant and distracted, as though he wasn't listening. "Well, we all gotta' go some time,"
_____ "Hey! Watch it!" I shouted, snarling.
_____ "Don't get your panties in a knot," he smirked, "I'm here to help you."
_____ "Help me?" I spat the words in disgust, "You don't even know who the hell I am,"
_____ "I know you better than you think," he said. I awaited an explanation which never came. "My advice is to cut the shit, say your goodbyes, and move on with your life,"
_____ "Who in the FUCK do you think you are?" I yelled at him. Suddenly, the door swung open, and the orderly came in.
_____ "Is everything alright?" the orderly asked.
_____ "No, everything isn't alright, this jerk--" I thumbed toward Dagon, "is pissing me off."
_____ The orderly looked confused. I turned to look at Dagon, but he was gone. The bathroom stall door was closed, now. "He went in the stall," I said.
_____ The orderly escorted me out, and we shuffled into the parlour where people were now standing in a line in front of the coffin, to bid their farewells to Anahute. I cut into the middle.
_____ "Nice manners," said a man about my age, who looked like he crawled out of a Dickens book.
_____ "Nice specs," I said, referring to the ancient round-rimmed spectacles he wore, along with his top hat and pennycoat.
_____ "Thank you," he replied, apparently not catching the sarcasm. "My name is Malcolm." He offered me his hand, but I didn't shake it. I turned my back to him, and proceeded another few steps toward the coffin as the line moved. I noticed a woman off to the side, sitting on a chair with no-one around her, sobbing uncontrollably. Malcolm leaned over my shoulder.
_____ "That's Carmilla," he said, "She puts on a warm-hearted show, but her nature is questionable."
_____ "I think I can do without the gossip just now," I snapped at him. "Jackass," I muttered, under my breath.
_____ "She just craves the attention," he continued, ignoring my distaste entirely. "She's not all bad, but don't think she's any less selfish than you or I."
_____ "You met me ten seconds ago!" I snarled at him, "Who in the hell do you think you are to judge me?"
_____ The orderly beside me put his hand on my shoulder and advised me to keep it down.
_____ "Get him away from me," I said, pointing at the jerk behind me (Malcolm).
_____ The orderly looked at him, but just shook his head and urged me forward. I was next to see Anahute, anyway. I stared at the closed casket, made of rosewood and mahogany. It was trimmed with gold and pearl, and had some very beautiful designs on it. Whoever was taking care of this funeral must have been pretty well-off. It infuriated me. The beautiful casket, the perfect boquets of flowers adorning the room, the crowd of sobbing visitors, the maladied priest standing at the foot of the casket, the coroner bidding everyone good wishes and "I'm sorry for your loss"-es. It sickened me. It disgusted me. I hated it. Without warning, I flung open the top half of the casket, feeling that I needed the closure of actually seeing her body, to get over my disbelief. If she was in that casket, I thought, I would be able to accept it, and move on.
_____ What I saw shocked and horrified me. There, in Anahute's casket, lay some bitch who sorta' looked like her, but who -wasn't- her.
_____ "What's the big idea?!" I shouted. Carmilla suddenly looked up at me with her tear-strewn face, her mascera leaving dark and blotchy lines all over her countenance. The orderly pulled me back by my arms and tried to calm me. Dagon looked on from a nearby doorway, grinning with utter amusement, and Malcolm, behind me, held a grim and serious face, but said nothing. "Who the hell is this?" I demanded. The priest walked over to me, his hands patting in a downward motion as though it should soothe me.
_____ "This is Anahute, Brother," he said.
_____ "I'm not your brother, and you're a fucking liar," I snapped. "What is this, her sister or something? I fucking KNOW what Anahute looks like, and THAT is not her!"
_____ The priest sighed, angry but understanding. He tried to explain, "Unfortunately the reconstruction can only do so much. If you had seen what she looked like before the coroner worked on her--"
_____ I didn't let him finish his blasphemy. I slugged him, right in the jaw, and he crashed against the casket before falling to the floor. Several visitors and the orderly subdued me, and began shouting. Their words were incoherent. They must all be crazy. They must all be stupid, too. They can't even tell the difference between Anahute and some imposter bitch.
_____ "You were allowed out on the condition you would behave," the orderly scolded me with frustration, "Now I have to take you back."
_____ "Whatever," I scoffed, "We're not even at the right funeral."
_____ Dagon, Carmilla, and Malcolm all followed us out.
_____ "Let us take him home," Dagon said, "We'll take good care of him,"
_____ I was glad that the orderly ignored him. He must have realised it was probably a trick so that they could beat the crap out of me or something for my little escapade in there. He took me back to the hospital, and I spent the next few days finishing my recovery, and then I was allowed to go home. I had to take the bus.
_____ Oddly enough, when I got on the bus, I found Malcolm, wearing the same sort of clothes he wore to the funeral, already riding. I sat near him.
_____ "Look," I started, "I'm sorry about the other day. I was on a lot of medication, and uh, it's just. . . It's just a really difficult time for me. Anahute meant everything to me, and I can't even believe she's gone."
_____ "Death is a natural part of life," is all he said. It made me angry, but I swallowed it.
_____ "So, what, are you an uncle of hers or something?" I guessed, judging more by his clothes than his apparent age.
_____ "No," he said flatly. I awaited an explanation once more. He was apparently still mad at me, because he didn't give me one.
_____ "Okay," I said, and started to move closer to the front of the bus. Just as I did, however, Carmilla got on, and began moving toward us. I sat back down.
_____ "Hey," I said to her, and she smiled warmly at me as she sat right beside me.
_____ "Hi. How are you holding up? Feeling any better yet?" her voice was as soft and smoothe as milk. Her lips were red and full, she had beautiful high cheekbones, and dark mysterious eyes; and despite her athletic figure and exotic dress with the long slit up one leg, I didn't find myself attracted to her at all. It was almost like looking at my sister or something-- not that I had a sister.
_____ "I'm not really feeling any better. I still can't believe she's gone," I said again.
_____ "Aww, dear, come now," she said, "You need to move on. There are way too many fish in the sea to be worried about one going to waste.
_____ "How can you say that?" I asked incredulously, "Aren't you her friend or family or something? You were bawling your eyes out at the funeral."
_____ "Yes, I was," she said, "And because I let it all out then, I am able to move on today. When I first bore the pain of her loss, I wept-- now that she is gone, and there's nothing I can do, I must celebrate my own life."
_____ I understood what she was saying, but I disagreed. Still, she has a right to live how she wants, I suppose, but it still made me angry that she could be so blase.
_____ "Well I can't celebrate yet. There's just too much pain. I loved her deeply,"
_____ "I know, I know, Dear," she said, putting her arms around me. I began to cry, and she held me the entire way to my place.
_____ When we got to my stop, she and Malcolm both got off with me, and Dagon was already standing there waiting.
_____ "What took you so long?" he asked impatiently.
_____ "We can only travel as fast as the bus," Malcolm stated.
_____ "Why are you three here?" I asked.
_____ "We're here to help you," Dagon said for the second time.
_____ "Gee, and I'm just supposed to believe that, after everything that's happened?"
_____ "Yes," they all replied, in unison, then gave each other grating looks.
_____ "Come, we have much to discuss," Malcolm assured me, as we began walking into my apartment building. For some reason I just accepted their presence, and we all went into my unit.
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_____ PART 4: Descent
_____ "And we were friends ever since," Carmilla finished, being the last to regail her story of how we each knew Anahute. Dagon seemed pretty jealous when he learned that I too, had been Anahute's lover.
_____ "So," Dagon began, "on with our lives, then!"
_____ "On with our lives," repeated Malcolm.
_____ "To our lives!" toasted Carmilla, and they all raised their glasses and drank.
_____ "Look guys," I said with my sleepiest voice, "I need to get heading to bed, now. It's been a long day. I'm sure we can do this again some other time,"
_____ "I call the couch," Dagon said promptly.
_____ "I'm sleeping in your bed," Carmilla told me.
_____ "I don't mind sleeping on the floor," Malcolm offered.
_____ "Good," Dagon replied unnecessarily, "because that's where you're -going- to sleep."
_____ "Who said any of you could stay here?" and here, I began to glare at Carmilla, "Much less sleep in my bed?"
_____ "Well we can't very well help you if we're gone, now can we?" Dagon smirked.
_____ "Okay, are you guys some sort of under-cover hospital workers or something?" I finally asked, my paranoia or curiosity getting the better of me.
_____ "No," they all stated in unison once more.
_____ I was too exhausted to deal with them any more that night. I gave up, and went to bed, Carmilla snuggling up next to me when I did. Despite how I felt, I cuddled her back and actually slept quite well that night. When I woke up in the morning, she was gone. I felt odd. Despite having one of the best sleeps since they cut my throat, I felt groggy, and out of sorts. I dragged myself into the kitchen where I found a full breakfast already waiting for me. It was fairly warm, still, too. I guess they really are here to help me. I took my plate and went into the livingroom where I always ate, and found Malcolm there, reading.
_____ "Ahh, you're awake," he said, "Eat up. A hearty breakfast is the best start to a good day,"
_____ "Amen!" called Carmilla, as she walked out of the shower completely naked, drying her long red curly hair with her towel. Nobody seemed shocked or interested-- including myself. She eventually wrapped the towel around her beautiful young body, and sat down in the livingroom floor. I sat in one of my wooden chairs in front of the big round table. I stared out my window as I ate, overlooking the city from my relatively lofty position.
_____ "I keep expecting her to call me," I spoke.
_____ "Well cut it out," Dagon said sharply, "You can't afford to do that anymore. Come here, I'm going to teach you something,"
_____ I finished my breakfast and went over to him. He was doing some sort of strange martial-arts forms. He had a sharp, curved knife in his hand. I looked around, where we were standing. "Hey, wait a second," I said, "Where the hell is all of Rob's stuff?"
_____ "Who's Rob?" Carmilla asked.
_____ "Rob is my room mate," I replied. The three looked at each other quizzically.
_____ "I see no evidence of a room mate," Malcolm commented.
_____ "Nor do I," added Carmilla.
_____ "I guess he moved out," Dagon offered through an insincere smile.
_____ "What do you want to show me?" I asked, quickly changing the subject.
_____ "I'm going to show you how to use a knife, and you're going to start carrying one at all times," he said. "You'll never get cut again, I promise you."
_____ I consented. It seemed like a good idea, and a good way to get out some tension and aggression I still had built up from the entire situation. I will never get cut again, I swore to myself. We practiced for what seemed like an eternity. I woke up, we started practicing, I ate, we practiced, I pissed, we practice, I slept, woke, and we started the cycle again. I was actually getting pretty good, too. I dedicated myself to fighting with the various blades Dagon managed to produce for me, and actually felt like a natural at it. It's like I was meant to hold this steel. The training was an excellent distraction from my woes, but a distraction is all it remained to be. Each day that passed grew heavier and heavier on my mind, each new time I picked up the blades it was harder and harder to get myself to begin training. I yearned for the release the training provided and scorned the activity it demanded.
_____ On a bright, sunny Wednesday, I woke up and Dagon was gone. All of them were gone. I looked out my window, and for a moment in the reflection I thought I saw Dagon standing behind me. I spun on my toes to face him once more, but there was nothing-- only a trick from the light. I turned back out and peered. No training this morning. What shall I do?
_____ I walked down the street in front of my house. It was sickeningly busy. People bustling about, this way and that. Everyone going on with their lives, so entirely oblivious to the lives of everyone else. That man in the green fishing hat and plaid shirt was carrying a skateboard, heading toward the park. No challenge in that one. A woman walked by with a poodle on a long leash, her fancy fur coat fluttering and wagging in the wind. She didn't look like a business woman, just all dolled up. She was probably some rich man's trophy wife. He probably had a nice car, too. Fuck, I hate that guy. There's a girl my age. Nothing spectacular, pretty plain clothes: jeans and a rock-and-roll t-shirt. Her thick-brimmed black glasses suggested she might be an art student, or perhaps just one of the followers of that new-wave of beatnik. She pissed me off, too. She's so oblivious. They all are. I bet I could cut them all up, carve them apart like steaks, and feed them to one another. They'd consume each other's flesh as obliviously as they lived, lapping it up with their greedy tongues, slurping the blood with their greedy little lips, and then they'd demand more. Why do you all have to suck SO much?
_____ I tried not to think about it. I tried not to think about Anahute. I went for a coffee, ordered it black, and stared for over an hour into my cup, not touching it once. A waitress came over to me, asking if I was done with it.
_____ "Do I LOOK like I'm done with it?"I shouted. "Why don't you go harass some of the other patrons, I'm not done with my coffee."
_____ Carmilla walked in, wearing one of her typically slutty outfits: red and Chinese in design, long slit up one leg, so low cut on her breasts you could actually see the tops of her nipples.
_____ "Don't like to leave much to the imagination," I said.
_____ "No, you don't," she replied with a wink.
_____ "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I demanded.
_____ "What are you doing today?" she asked, ignoring my question.
_____ "I thought I'd come here and get harassed by a waitress and a slut," I spat, my words as caustic and venomous as I could manage.
_____ "Fine, Dagon, be that way," she said, and got up to leave. I didn't stop her. I thought to myself, ~I'm nothing like that bastard,~ referring to her Dagon comment.
_____ The rest of my day passed similarly. I hated everyone I met. I hated everyone I saw. I hated everything I did, and everything I was going to do. I bought a nice bottle of Merlot and a pack of smokes, and took them home, alone. I smoked a cigarette. First one in my life. It wasn't so great-- but it wasn't so bad, either. I went into the bathroom to shave, but when I got there, I was startled by the face in the mirror. It was me, but it wasn't. It looked like me, moved like me, but his eyes spoke to me. He spoke words that I wasn't saying, and he spoke them -to me-, as though from an outside source. I couldn't help but keep looking, despite my fear. The mouth moved on its own, whispering to me silently, but I heard every word he said:
Do you know the man you see in the mirror?
Is he who you expect to see? Is he who you want to see?
Did he do the things he's supposed to do?
Does he know the things he's supposed to know?
Has he answered the questions you've always asked?
Do you know the man you see in the mirror?
Does he love the way you want to love?
Does he fight the way you want to fight?
Can he cheer you up when you're feeling down?
Does he have the friends you've always wanted?
Do you know the man you see in the mirror?
Who is he? Where did he come from?
What happened to the boy you once knew?
The boy who smiled, laughed, and played.
Do you know where that boy went?
Do you know the man you see in the mirror?
Can you look him in his eyes?
Can you hold his fixed gaze?
Does he have your best intentions in mind?
Not that you have his, anyway.
_____ Was it a poem? Was it a song? Why did he say such things? I guess the answer to that was somewhat obvious, but the real question was: what the HELL was I tripping on? My reflection is doing things no reflection should do on its own. The very last thing he said, he screamed-- and while there was still no sound, his scream pierced my mind and my heart like a jumbo-jet-sized arrow travelling at supersonic speed. He screamed only one word, and it was all he needed: ANAHUTE!
_____ I punched the mirror, shattering it into a thousand tiny, fractured, bloody pieces. I screamed gibberish at no-one, my voice rolling over from low rumbling growl to high-pitched whine and back again several times in my wailing. I grabbed the bloody pieces of mirror, and threw them at the walls, further cutting up my hands and sending flecks of blood all over my bathroom until it looked like a "Nightmare on Elmstreet" horror scene.
_____ The next thing I knew, I was standing in my kitchen, my thin-but-sturdy stainless-steel steak knife gripped firmly in my hand. ~Steak~, I thought to myself. I jammed the knife into the base of my thumb. It burned, and grinded against the bone with a sickening scrape. I pulled the knife hard, downward and across my arm, until I had reached the elbow on the opposite side. I watched as my arm opened and spewed forth my juices like a violently-hacked orange. The blood soaking my kitchen floor left the most fascinating Rorschach image I'd ever seen-- if I do say so, myself.
_____ I grew woozey, dizzy, and sick to my stomache. I stumbled out into the hall and made my way to the elevator. Another skip in time, and I was sitting on the beautiful leather recliner in the lounge of my building. I lit up another smoke, and sat back. Somehow, the whole gang showed up again. Carmilla was leaning over my chair from behind, her arm dangling down by my side. Dagon sat across from me, staring with amusement but still very disapproving. Malcolm stood by the door and watched me expressionlessly.
_____ The bloody fingerprint stains on the cigarette took a surprisingly pleasing pattern as I inhaled drag after drag. Had I thought of it beforehand, it probably would have made some pretty interesting art. Too late now, I guess. The smoke rose from my fingertips and nostrils, rising languidly, and filling the air like dragon's breath. As I faded into oblivion, I wondered if I would meet Anahute. I began to wonder who I was. I began to wonder:
_____ Am I here? Was I ever?
_____ PART 1: The End
_____ The bloody fingerprint stains on the cigarette took a surprisingly pleasing pattern as I inhaled drag after drag. Had I thought of it beforehand, it probably would have made some pretty interesting art. Too late now, I guess.
_____ I shuddered, the shock setting in was making me cold, and the sight of my blood trickling down my arm and off my fingertips was fascinatingly gruesome. I hacked, coughed, wheezed. I'm not a smoker-- I never really was. I mean, there was that short stint with the opium back in '96, but I only did that for a year or two.
_____ "Two," said Dagon.
_____ "More like one and a half," corrected the ever-practical Malcolm.
_____ "A year or two, I said," I reitterated.
_____ The smoke rose from my fingertips and nostrils, rising languidly, and filling the air like dragon's breath.
_____ "To watch the world burn," Dagon suddenly chuckled through darkly clenched teeth.
_____ Nobody asked him what he was talking about. We didn't want to know, and yet somehow, on some instinctual level, we all felt that we understood-- just as Dagon knew we would.
_____ Carmilla shuddered. She was cold, too.
_____ "Don't worry," I assured her, "it's all going to end soon."
_____ "Like this?" she asked, ready to cry, "But you promised. You swore it to everyone, even yourself."
_____ "Especially yourself," said Malcolm.
_____ "Promises are made to be broken," Dagon chimed in.
_____ I ignored them all. It was too late to do anything about it, anyway. Carmilla was going to get what she deserved, exactly like the rest of us. She was no better than us-- only better at fooling everyone else.
_____ "Oh my God!" rang out the disturbed voice of some unnoticed woman. She rushed over to me. "Are you okay?!" her voice desperate and frightened.
_____ She looked at me the same way she spoke-- her eyes wide open, becoming bloodshot, and darting from my body, to my arm, to my face, and back again.
_____ "You need to get to a hospital," she said, a little more controlled now. Gee, that sure was a helpful suggestion.
_____ "I'm not at the hospital already?" I asked, my eyes affixed to hers, and starting to glaze.
_____ "He's just being coy," Dagon smirked.
_____ I sighed. I didn't want to go to the hospital. People are always dying in hospitals. It's so depressing.
_____ "You're dying," Malcolm pointed out. "You'll probably bleed out before you even make it to the hospital."
_____ It was a good argument. I had already been bleeding here in this plush leather recliner for several unknown minutes. Ten? Twenty?
_____ Whatever it was, my arm was sliced open from the base of my thumb to the opposite corner of my elbow, and I wasn't long for this world.
_____ "Don't be so dramatic," Malcolm ordered flatly.
_____ Apparently, this new lady had called an ambulance or something, because as she snapped her cellphone shut, she touched my unwounded arm and said they would be here soon. Wouldn't it be funny if she had actually called some of her thug friends to come steal my keys and rob my apartment? I had the keys and my I.D. on me, and it would have been easy to take them off my body.
_____ "Most people don't think like that!" snapped Carmilla.
_____ "How would you know?" Dagon sneered, "You just fuck everyone you meet! And if you're not fucking them, you're -trying- to fuck them!"
_____ They always fought like that. they hated each other.
_____ Dagon hissed, "I hate you, too."
_____ I finally recognized the woman. She was the super-intendent of the building. I guess that makes sense. I'm in my apartment lobby, right?
_____ "Stop playing games, retard, you know where you are!" Dagon growled.
_____ "No, he's not pretending this time," Malcolm observed.
_____ Carmilla agreed, and said, "Why don't you all just leave him alone?"
_____ Then there were sirens. Flashing lights. The automatic doors slid open and the paramedics and police came rushing in. their voices were urgent but proffessional. They shouted at me in words I didn't understand, or know if I should understand. They shouted at each other in the same alien language. It was getting harder to hear them, they kept moving further away, so quickly. Someone dimmed the lights, and all grew quiet.
_____ Am I here? Was I ever?
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_____ PART 2: The Beginning
_____ It all started with that Native girl-- well, Inuit, actually. I met her after a terrible break-up with an ex who tried to poison me in my sleep. I guess after your girl tries to kill you, the relationship is pretty much done. Ours was well done; -very- well. I didn't press charges, though. Hell, I didn't even report her. It was almost cute, in a way. She soaked a rag in bleach, then tried to cover my mouth and nose with it. I woke quickly, hacking and sputtering. She was quite the tiny thing, (and a rock star in the sack!) and wasn't nearly big enough to hold me down.
_____ She sat back on my bed, disappointed and dejected, her hands falling gentley into her lap. She looked at me with her big, beautiful, brown eyes, and chipmunk cheeks.
_____ "What the HELL are you doing?!" I shouted, yelling at her for only the second time ever.
_____ "I wanted to see what would happen," was all she could offer.
_____ Upon the realisation that she had just tried to kill me, I couldn't help my first thought: Aww, and I didn't get -you- anything.
_____ What I said, however, was, "Next time, try it on yourself!"
_____ I didn't mean it. I loved her, I'd always love her-- it was like someone else's words had spewed violently from my mouth. That happened too often, lately. I hated it. Still, there's something to be said for the direct approach to a break-up. She moved out soon after, and I got a new room mate: Rob, he went by. Rob was an odd one, and his real name was Allan. When I asked him why he went by Rob, all he would say was, "I like it better." He was a photographer, and a pretty damned good one, at that.
_____ Rob would often spend hours setting up his shots, and hours more, taking them. He turned the livingroom into his personal studio, and I didn't mind as I never used it, anyway. On my days off, now lacking a girlfriend and having nothing better to do, I would watch him work. You know, photography can be a very interesting art. The lighting, the angles, adjustments on the camera . . . The subjects.
_____ He often shot models, and had them doing-- uh, well . . . Model-y things. I watched with rapt fascination as woman after beautiful woman paraded through our livingroom; even the otherwise plain-looking girls he photographed somehow looked stunning in his pictures. I didn't know how he did it-- I guess he just had the touch. It was that fateful day, when he shot the Inuit girl, that changed everything.
_____ She was from Nunavut, and I never could remember or pronounce the name of her people-- but her name dripped off my tongue and lips like the sweetest honey: Anahute. She was five feet and ten inches tall, eyes of obsidian, and had an ass so pert and beautiful I actually wanted to drop to my knees and cry. She was only 20 years old, and if I make it another six months, I'll be 30-- but DAMN, was she ever gorgeous. When we met, I looked into her eyes, and she into mine, and without breaking our gaze, I offered her my hand. She took it and shook it, also taking care not to break the stare. I held her hand far longer than I needed to for the handshake, but not nearly as long as I wanted to-- and she didn't seem to mind.
_____ My first words to her were, "Will you marry me?" I think I may have come off a little strong. She didn't respond to it well at first, her body shifting away from me, and her eyes searching as her brain tried to populate a "gentle let-down". I searched as well, trying to come up with a quick recovery for a botched attempt at half-true humor.
_____ She must have noticed my panic, because suddenly she said, "Well that depends: can you puncture a hole through an inch of wood with nothing but your penis?"
_____ The first thing that came to mind was, "What kind of wood?"
_____ "It shouldn't matter," she replied, "Sorry, a girl's gotta have her standards." Then she winked at me-- I think I fell in love at that very moment.
_____ She came back to model on several occasions, each time I drew her out more and more, and she would stay just a little longer and longer after every shoot. I learned that she grew up in an Inuit community, she loved the snow, she had had a difficult childhood due to family problems, and she loved candy even more than I do. She was actually just a little bit crazy-- funny, really, because that's exactly how I like 'em.
_____ She learned about me quite a bit, as well. Many of my darkest secrets and most twisted desires spilled out of me unhindered, and once again she didn't seem to mind. How can I be sure? Well, she put those desires to the test when she rocked my world in bed. If I never had sex again in my life, I could still die happily knowing that I had made love to a goddess-- one who could read my every erotic thought, and desired to please me as much as I desired to please her. The best part, though, is that I -did- get to make love to her again, and many, many times, in fact! We were absolutely, undeniably, perfect for each other in the bedroom. I never wanted to bed another woman again, and I never wanted to let her go. I should never have even allowed myself those thoughts.
_____ I was ambitious, I had big dreams of big business. I got a job as a sales representative in a jewelry shop, selling beautiful pieces with all kinds of gems. I wanted to own my own shop, and I had some devious plots to take this one over-- it was just a matter of time-- but Anahute had her own ambitions. She was a smart girl, and she loved math and science; she particularly loved astronomy, and soon she would leave for university to pursue that dream. I once jokingly told her that she couldn't go, and she punched me hard in the arm.
_____ "What-ever! What-ever! I'll do whut I WAHNT!" she cited, of one of our mutually favourite cartoons.
_____ As time passed, we grew ever closer. We started dating, and had immense fun together. One night on our way home from a movie, the crisp, cold air mixing well with a lingering hint of wood smoke from some unseen chimney, we noticed an increasingly rapid "clop clop clop"ing sound approaching quickly behind us. I stopped suddenly, and turned on my toes to face whatever it was coming up behind us-- it appeared to be a jogger, so I turned back around and we resumed our walk as he passed. We turned the corner and began walking through an alley near our building when I was suddenly hit in the head with something hard. I dropped to the ground.
_____ When I turned to look up at my assailant, I was only able to make out the rounded end of some blunt instrument coming quickly toward my face. I have quick reflexes, though, and managed to deftly move my head to the side, and roll up onto my feet. My head throbbed and pounded from the first wounding blow I received. I now saw that there were three attackers. Young guys, barely more than kids. Two of them were holding Anahute down, tearing at her clothes, while the third guy came at me again. He had a security baton, the kind that telescopes out with the hard metal nub at the end. He swung it at me, and I dodged to the side again, bringing up my foot in a tremendous kick to his groin. His legs buckled and he crashed to the ground. I turned to save Anahute, only to meet a knife at my throat. There was no threat, and no warning, for in a single swift movement, the man cut my throat and punched me in the face, sending me sprawling.
_____ As I lay conscious and choking on my own blood, the last thing I saw was the men running off, the first man I fought giving me a good kick in the back before taking off as well. My vision faded. I awoke some time later, and struggled to turn even slightly left or right-- everything appeared to me as though I was staring through clear, crude, stained glass. "Anahute," I tried to say, my voice nothing more than a ghost of a whisper. I felt lips press to my cheek and forehead, and as my sight cleared, I saw her standing before me, tears streaming down her face.
_____ "I'm so glad you're awake!" she bawled, and lay her head against my chest, her arms draped gracefully over me. "We didn't know if you would come to, or if you'd even live!"
_____ I tried to chuckle. "What are you talking about, Baby? We've just barely gotten to know each other, I'm not ready to check out yet!"
_____ She forced a laugh through her tears, and continued sobbing into my chest.
_____ "I love you," I said, my voice entirely inaudible this time. She never knew. I fell asleep again.
_____ When I next awoke, Anahute wasn't with me. I called for the nurse, and when she came in (several minutes later), I asked her if Anahute had gone home.
_____ "No, actually," the nurse explained, "Anahute didn't make it through your event the other night unharmed. The men who attacked you beat her pretty badly, and a few hours after you fell asleep yesterday," (Yesterday?) "she developed some internal complications. She will probably be okay, but it's a good thing she was already here in the hospital, because it could have been much worse. When she's okay to walk again, I'm sure she'll come back in to see you."
_____ "I want to see her now," I demanded, and tried to get up. An orderly stood next to the foot of my bed, and put out a massive arm to hault me. He shook his head slowly, a big friendly smile on his face.
_____ "You need to rest now," he said, "you're in no condition to be exerting yourself like that. Just be patient, you'll see her again soon, Bro,"
_____ I growled inwardly. He was nice, but what he said pissed me off-- probably more than it should have.
_____ "I'll cut your fucking heart out and shove it up her twat!" I screamed, pointing at the nurse. I slapped my hand over my own mouth, surprised, in disbelief I would say something like that to these people who were being so kind to me. "I'm sorry," I admitted immediately. Both of them looked shocked and confused, but quietly accepted my apology. "I don't know what came over me. I don't feel like myself."
_____ The nurse told me it was okay, it was probably the shock of my "event" and the medication messing with my head, and the orderly just smirked and took a seat.
_____ "I'm sure you'll feel better once you get to see your girl," he said. I fell asleep again.
_____ The third time I woke, Anahute was standing over my bed again, looking down at me with drowsy but happy eyes. "Hey there, Hero," she smiled at me.
_____ "Hero?" I asked, genuinely curious.
_____ "Yeah," she said, "if you hadn't fought those guys the other night, I probably would have been raped and killed. As it happens, I got away with just a few internal injuries, and I'm going to be fine now. The doctors said I can leave in a few days-- maybe even tomorrow if everything seems good,"
_____ "Hey, that's great!" I said, my voice a bit stronger now, "I wonder when they'll let me out."
_____ "Probably not for a while longer," she said somberly, "after all, your trachea was cut open pretty bad. The doctors put you back together, but you're going to spend a lot of time healing it back up."
_____ I grinned, "Bah, that's no problem for this hero. I can do that time like nothin'!"
_____ She smiled at me, and all my problems melted away like cotton candy in a torrential rain. I slept again. Anahute woke me up deliberately, this time.
_____ "Hey, I'm going home today. Alice," that was her room mate and dear friend, "is driving me home. I just want to get a few things, and then I'll be back to wait for you to get better.
_____ "You don't need to do that," I said, still hoping she would, "Just go home and relax. Have a good time, you can just come visit me for a while each day until I'm able to leave,"
_____ "Nuh-uh," she said, "I just want to get some things to prepare for a long wait here, and then I'll be right back. Do you want me to pick you up anything while I'm out?"
_____ "No," was all I said, with a smile. Despite recently having my throat slit, I was happier than I had been in a very long time. This girl actually cared about me, and showed me that she cared in ways that even my previous girlfriends had never done for me. She owned my heart, and I wanted her to never give it back. So I laid back and accepted that she would come back to me, and she left with that promise. With nothing better to do, yet again, I fell asleep.
_____ This time, I awoke suddenly, a cold sweat on my brow and my breath coming to me in sharp pants. I looked around, frantic, and saw that I was alone in the room; the clock said 8:20-- odd how it looks like a frown. I laid down, resting and calming myself, as I didn't feel anything physically wrong, and assumed that I just had a bad dream. I laid awake for hours, waiting for Anahute to come back, but she didn't. I didn't know what to think, and actually found myself getting angry again.
_____ ~She lied to you,~ I thought, ~She's not coming back because she's going to be bored off her ass, and you're not exactly fine company right now, Mr. Sleeping Ugly.~
_____ ~Ridiculous,~ I thought to myself in reply, ~She's probably just late for some good reason, and will likely be here soon. Be patient.~
_____ ~I hope she's alright,~ I thought finally, before dozing back off.
_____ Once again, I awoke with a start. It also startled the nurse who had just walked into my room, and she gripped her chest for a moment, before continuing on a very forlorn-looking path toward my bed. Her feet dragged as she walked, and her head hung a bit lower than normal.
_____ "I need to talk to you," she said, "and it isn't going to be easy. I have terrible news."
_____ My heart froze, my throat was tight and constricted any words I might have possibly conceived, from ever leaving my mouth.
_____ "Anahute has been in an accident. Apparently it was right after she left the hospital. She was on her way home when Alice's car was struck by a pick-up truck on her side. Alice and the other driver died in the hospital, and Anahute--" she choked up a bit here, "-- died in the resulting fire of the crash. She was trapped in the car by the seatbelt. Her funeral will be in three days. I'm so sorry for your loss." Her voice was sincere. Her face showed how sad she was. She seemed to mirror the tiniest fraction of the pain I felt.
_____ I blinked. I didn't know what to say, and no words could describe the disbelief, confusion, frustration, and anger I was feeling.
_____ "You're wrong," I lied. I knew she wasn't. I could feel it. I remembered the clock-- 8:20, it said. Frowning at me. FUCK that clock. What right does it have to judge me? "FUCK YOU!" I screamed, for what scream I could manage. "You're fucking wrong! You're wrong! You're a fucking liar! YOU'RE A FUCKING LIAR!!!" I thrashed around, pulling at the restraints binding my wrists and ankles which I had, until just then, not even noticed. "LET ME GO! Let me out of here! I have to go see her! I have to call her! ANAHUTE, I love you!"
_____ "I need some help in here!" the nurse called out. Two large orderlies, a man and a woman, rushed in and held me down. I continued to fight and curse at each of them, screaming and spitting the most vile obscenities I could muster at them. The nurse produced a large needle, and shoved it quickly into my arm. This trend of my consciousness escaping my grasp was getting old, quick. As I faded away, I could only mutter, "She never knew I loved her. She never heard me say it. She never knew . . . She never . . ."
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_____ PART 3: Closure
_____ I was able to make it to her funeral. I had to carry an oxygen tank and I.V. with me, but I was able to go. An orderly escorted me. The casket was closed-- by suggestion of the coroner. I overheard that he had done everything possible to make her presentable, but the finished product was still less than magnificent. The proceedings began. People I didn't know, had never met or heard of got up and spoke about her as though they'd been her best friend. Maybe they were-- there was still a lot about Anahute I had been looking forward to learning; not that I would ever get the chance, now. I couldn't take it, and had to go to the rest room to splash my face with some cold water.
_____ As I wiped my face off with a paper towel, I was startled to suddenly see the reflection of a man, in the mirror, standing behind me. He was well dressed, donning a very business-looking three-piece Armani suit of crimson and black. His dark brown hair was slicked fully back, and his proffessionally-groomed goatee hung sharp on his face. I turned to face him.
_____ "Hey. I'm Dagon," he said, and offered his hand. I shook it. "Do you smoke?" he asked.
_____ I shook my head no.
_____ "Mind if I do?"
_____ Again, I shook my head. He lit up a cigarette, took a long drag, and sighed the smoke out through his nostrils. "How did you know Anahute," I inquired.
_____ "She was a lover of mine," he said. I bit my tongue and swallowed my jealousy. "You?"
_____ "She was--" I thought about it a moment, "She was a very dear friend of mine. She died on her way home from the hospital we were both in,"
_____ "Ahh," he said, his voice distant and distracted, as though he wasn't listening. "Well, we all gotta' go some time,"
_____ "Hey! Watch it!" I shouted, snarling.
_____ "Don't get your panties in a knot," he smirked, "I'm here to help you."
_____ "Help me?" I spat the words in disgust, "You don't even know who the hell I am,"
_____ "I know you better than you think," he said. I awaited an explanation which never came. "My advice is to cut the shit, say your goodbyes, and move on with your life,"
_____ "Who in the FUCK do you think you are?" I yelled at him. Suddenly, the door swung open, and the orderly came in.
_____ "Is everything alright?" the orderly asked.
_____ "No, everything isn't alright, this jerk--" I thumbed toward Dagon, "is pissing me off."
_____ The orderly looked confused. I turned to look at Dagon, but he was gone. The bathroom stall door was closed, now. "He went in the stall," I said.
_____ The orderly escorted me out, and we shuffled into the parlour where people were now standing in a line in front of the coffin, to bid their farewells to Anahute. I cut into the middle.
_____ "Nice manners," said a man about my age, who looked like he crawled out of a Dickens book.
_____ "Nice specs," I said, referring to the ancient round-rimmed spectacles he wore, along with his top hat and pennycoat.
_____ "Thank you," he replied, apparently not catching the sarcasm. "My name is Malcolm." He offered me his hand, but I didn't shake it. I turned my back to him, and proceeded another few steps toward the coffin as the line moved. I noticed a woman off to the side, sitting on a chair with no-one around her, sobbing uncontrollably. Malcolm leaned over my shoulder.
_____ "That's Carmilla," he said, "She puts on a warm-hearted show, but her nature is questionable."
_____ "I think I can do without the gossip just now," I snapped at him. "Jackass," I muttered, under my breath.
_____ "She just craves the attention," he continued, ignoring my distaste entirely. "She's not all bad, but don't think she's any less selfish than you or I."
_____ "You met me ten seconds ago!" I snarled at him, "Who in the hell do you think you are to judge me?"
_____ The orderly beside me put his hand on my shoulder and advised me to keep it down.
_____ "Get him away from me," I said, pointing at the jerk behind me (Malcolm).
_____ The orderly looked at him, but just shook his head and urged me forward. I was next to see Anahute, anyway. I stared at the closed casket, made of rosewood and mahogany. It was trimmed with gold and pearl, and had some very beautiful designs on it. Whoever was taking care of this funeral must have been pretty well-off. It infuriated me. The beautiful casket, the perfect boquets of flowers adorning the room, the crowd of sobbing visitors, the maladied priest standing at the foot of the casket, the coroner bidding everyone good wishes and "I'm sorry for your loss"-es. It sickened me. It disgusted me. I hated it. Without warning, I flung open the top half of the casket, feeling that I needed the closure of actually seeing her body, to get over my disbelief. If she was in that casket, I thought, I would be able to accept it, and move on.
_____ What I saw shocked and horrified me. There, in Anahute's casket, lay some bitch who sorta' looked like her, but who -wasn't- her.
_____ "What's the big idea?!" I shouted. Carmilla suddenly looked up at me with her tear-strewn face, her mascera leaving dark and blotchy lines all over her countenance. The orderly pulled me back by my arms and tried to calm me. Dagon looked on from a nearby doorway, grinning with utter amusement, and Malcolm, behind me, held a grim and serious face, but said nothing. "Who the hell is this?" I demanded. The priest walked over to me, his hands patting in a downward motion as though it should soothe me.
_____ "This is Anahute, Brother," he said.
_____ "I'm not your brother, and you're a fucking liar," I snapped. "What is this, her sister or something? I fucking KNOW what Anahute looks like, and THAT is not her!"
_____ The priest sighed, angry but understanding. He tried to explain, "Unfortunately the reconstruction can only do so much. If you had seen what she looked like before the coroner worked on her--"
_____ I didn't let him finish his blasphemy. I slugged him, right in the jaw, and he crashed against the casket before falling to the floor. Several visitors and the orderly subdued me, and began shouting. Their words were incoherent. They must all be crazy. They must all be stupid, too. They can't even tell the difference between Anahute and some imposter bitch.
_____ "You were allowed out on the condition you would behave," the orderly scolded me with frustration, "Now I have to take you back."
_____ "Whatever," I scoffed, "We're not even at the right funeral."
_____ Dagon, Carmilla, and Malcolm all followed us out.
_____ "Let us take him home," Dagon said, "We'll take good care of him,"
_____ I was glad that the orderly ignored him. He must have realised it was probably a trick so that they could beat the crap out of me or something for my little escapade in there. He took me back to the hospital, and I spent the next few days finishing my recovery, and then I was allowed to go home. I had to take the bus.
_____ Oddly enough, when I got on the bus, I found Malcolm, wearing the same sort of clothes he wore to the funeral, already riding. I sat near him.
_____ "Look," I started, "I'm sorry about the other day. I was on a lot of medication, and uh, it's just. . . It's just a really difficult time for me. Anahute meant everything to me, and I can't even believe she's gone."
_____ "Death is a natural part of life," is all he said. It made me angry, but I swallowed it.
_____ "So, what, are you an uncle of hers or something?" I guessed, judging more by his clothes than his apparent age.
_____ "No," he said flatly. I awaited an explanation once more. He was apparently still mad at me, because he didn't give me one.
_____ "Okay," I said, and started to move closer to the front of the bus. Just as I did, however, Carmilla got on, and began moving toward us. I sat back down.
_____ "Hey," I said to her, and she smiled warmly at me as she sat right beside me.
_____ "Hi. How are you holding up? Feeling any better yet?" her voice was as soft and smoothe as milk. Her lips were red and full, she had beautiful high cheekbones, and dark mysterious eyes; and despite her athletic figure and exotic dress with the long slit up one leg, I didn't find myself attracted to her at all. It was almost like looking at my sister or something-- not that I had a sister.
_____ "I'm not really feeling any better. I still can't believe she's gone," I said again.
_____ "Aww, dear, come now," she said, "You need to move on. There are way too many fish in the sea to be worried about one going to waste.
_____ "How can you say that?" I asked incredulously, "Aren't you her friend or family or something? You were bawling your eyes out at the funeral."
_____ "Yes, I was," she said, "And because I let it all out then, I am able to move on today. When I first bore the pain of her loss, I wept-- now that she is gone, and there's nothing I can do, I must celebrate my own life."
_____ I understood what she was saying, but I disagreed. Still, she has a right to live how she wants, I suppose, but it still made me angry that she could be so blase.
_____ "Well I can't celebrate yet. There's just too much pain. I loved her deeply,"
_____ "I know, I know, Dear," she said, putting her arms around me. I began to cry, and she held me the entire way to my place.
_____ When we got to my stop, she and Malcolm both got off with me, and Dagon was already standing there waiting.
_____ "What took you so long?" he asked impatiently.
_____ "We can only travel as fast as the bus," Malcolm stated.
_____ "Why are you three here?" I asked.
_____ "We're here to help you," Dagon said for the second time.
_____ "Gee, and I'm just supposed to believe that, after everything that's happened?"
_____ "Yes," they all replied, in unison, then gave each other grating looks.
_____ "Come, we have much to discuss," Malcolm assured me, as we began walking into my apartment building. For some reason I just accepted their presence, and we all went into my unit.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
_____ PART 4: Descent
_____ "And we were friends ever since," Carmilla finished, being the last to regail her story of how we each knew Anahute. Dagon seemed pretty jealous when he learned that I too, had been Anahute's lover.
_____ "So," Dagon began, "on with our lives, then!"
_____ "On with our lives," repeated Malcolm.
_____ "To our lives!" toasted Carmilla, and they all raised their glasses and drank.
_____ "Look guys," I said with my sleepiest voice, "I need to get heading to bed, now. It's been a long day. I'm sure we can do this again some other time,"
_____ "I call the couch," Dagon said promptly.
_____ "I'm sleeping in your bed," Carmilla told me.
_____ "I don't mind sleeping on the floor," Malcolm offered.
_____ "Good," Dagon replied unnecessarily, "because that's where you're -going- to sleep."
_____ "Who said any of you could stay here?" and here, I began to glare at Carmilla, "Much less sleep in my bed?"
_____ "Well we can't very well help you if we're gone, now can we?" Dagon smirked.
_____ "Okay, are you guys some sort of under-cover hospital workers or something?" I finally asked, my paranoia or curiosity getting the better of me.
_____ "No," they all stated in unison once more.
_____ I was too exhausted to deal with them any more that night. I gave up, and went to bed, Carmilla snuggling up next to me when I did. Despite how I felt, I cuddled her back and actually slept quite well that night. When I woke up in the morning, she was gone. I felt odd. Despite having one of the best sleeps since they cut my throat, I felt groggy, and out of sorts. I dragged myself into the kitchen where I found a full breakfast already waiting for me. It was fairly warm, still, too. I guess they really are here to help me. I took my plate and went into the livingroom where I always ate, and found Malcolm there, reading.
_____ "Ahh, you're awake," he said, "Eat up. A hearty breakfast is the best start to a good day,"
_____ "Amen!" called Carmilla, as she walked out of the shower completely naked, drying her long red curly hair with her towel. Nobody seemed shocked or interested-- including myself. She eventually wrapped the towel around her beautiful young body, and sat down in the livingroom floor. I sat in one of my wooden chairs in front of the big round table. I stared out my window as I ate, overlooking the city from my relatively lofty position.
_____ "I keep expecting her to call me," I spoke.
_____ "Well cut it out," Dagon said sharply, "You can't afford to do that anymore. Come here, I'm going to teach you something,"
_____ I finished my breakfast and went over to him. He was doing some sort of strange martial-arts forms. He had a sharp, curved knife in his hand. I looked around, where we were standing. "Hey, wait a second," I said, "Where the hell is all of Rob's stuff?"
_____ "Who's Rob?" Carmilla asked.
_____ "Rob is my room mate," I replied. The three looked at each other quizzically.
_____ "I see no evidence of a room mate," Malcolm commented.
_____ "Nor do I," added Carmilla.
_____ "I guess he moved out," Dagon offered through an insincere smile.
_____ "What do you want to show me?" I asked, quickly changing the subject.
_____ "I'm going to show you how to use a knife, and you're going to start carrying one at all times," he said. "You'll never get cut again, I promise you."
_____ I consented. It seemed like a good idea, and a good way to get out some tension and aggression I still had built up from the entire situation. I will never get cut again, I swore to myself. We practiced for what seemed like an eternity. I woke up, we started practicing, I ate, we practiced, I pissed, we practice, I slept, woke, and we started the cycle again. I was actually getting pretty good, too. I dedicated myself to fighting with the various blades Dagon managed to produce for me, and actually felt like a natural at it. It's like I was meant to hold this steel. The training was an excellent distraction from my woes, but a distraction is all it remained to be. Each day that passed grew heavier and heavier on my mind, each new time I picked up the blades it was harder and harder to get myself to begin training. I yearned for the release the training provided and scorned the activity it demanded.
_____ On a bright, sunny Wednesday, I woke up and Dagon was gone. All of them were gone. I looked out my window, and for a moment in the reflection I thought I saw Dagon standing behind me. I spun on my toes to face him once more, but there was nothing-- only a trick from the light. I turned back out and peered. No training this morning. What shall I do?
_____ I walked down the street in front of my house. It was sickeningly busy. People bustling about, this way and that. Everyone going on with their lives, so entirely oblivious to the lives of everyone else. That man in the green fishing hat and plaid shirt was carrying a skateboard, heading toward the park. No challenge in that one. A woman walked by with a poodle on a long leash, her fancy fur coat fluttering and wagging in the wind. She didn't look like a business woman, just all dolled up. She was probably some rich man's trophy wife. He probably had a nice car, too. Fuck, I hate that guy. There's a girl my age. Nothing spectacular, pretty plain clothes: jeans and a rock-and-roll t-shirt. Her thick-brimmed black glasses suggested she might be an art student, or perhaps just one of the followers of that new-wave of beatnik. She pissed me off, too. She's so oblivious. They all are. I bet I could cut them all up, carve them apart like steaks, and feed them to one another. They'd consume each other's flesh as obliviously as they lived, lapping it up with their greedy tongues, slurping the blood with their greedy little lips, and then they'd demand more. Why do you all have to suck SO much?
_____ I tried not to think about it. I tried not to think about Anahute. I went for a coffee, ordered it black, and stared for over an hour into my cup, not touching it once. A waitress came over to me, asking if I was done with it.
_____ "Do I LOOK like I'm done with it?"I shouted. "Why don't you go harass some of the other patrons, I'm not done with my coffee."
_____ Carmilla walked in, wearing one of her typically slutty outfits: red and Chinese in design, long slit up one leg, so low cut on her breasts you could actually see the tops of her nipples.
_____ "Don't like to leave much to the imagination," I said.
_____ "No, you don't," she replied with a wink.
_____ "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I demanded.
_____ "What are you doing today?" she asked, ignoring my question.
_____ "I thought I'd come here and get harassed by a waitress and a slut," I spat, my words as caustic and venomous as I could manage.
_____ "Fine, Dagon, be that way," she said, and got up to leave. I didn't stop her. I thought to myself, ~I'm nothing like that bastard,~ referring to her Dagon comment.
_____ The rest of my day passed similarly. I hated everyone I met. I hated everyone I saw. I hated everything I did, and everything I was going to do. I bought a nice bottle of Merlot and a pack of smokes, and took them home, alone. I smoked a cigarette. First one in my life. It wasn't so great-- but it wasn't so bad, either. I went into the bathroom to shave, but when I got there, I was startled by the face in the mirror. It was me, but it wasn't. It looked like me, moved like me, but his eyes spoke to me. He spoke words that I wasn't saying, and he spoke them -to me-, as though from an outside source. I couldn't help but keep looking, despite my fear. The mouth moved on its own, whispering to me silently, but I heard every word he said:
Do you know the man you see in the mirror?
Is he who you expect to see? Is he who you want to see?
Did he do the things he's supposed to do?
Does he know the things he's supposed to know?
Has he answered the questions you've always asked?
Do you know the man you see in the mirror?
Does he love the way you want to love?
Does he fight the way you want to fight?
Can he cheer you up when you're feeling down?
Does he have the friends you've always wanted?
Do you know the man you see in the mirror?
Who is he? Where did he come from?
What happened to the boy you once knew?
The boy who smiled, laughed, and played.
Do you know where that boy went?
Do you know the man you see in the mirror?
Can you look him in his eyes?
Can you hold his fixed gaze?
Does he have your best intentions in mind?
Not that you have his, anyway.
_____ Was it a poem? Was it a song? Why did he say such things? I guess the answer to that was somewhat obvious, but the real question was: what the HELL was I tripping on? My reflection is doing things no reflection should do on its own. The very last thing he said, he screamed-- and while there was still no sound, his scream pierced my mind and my heart like a jumbo-jet-sized arrow travelling at supersonic speed. He screamed only one word, and it was all he needed: ANAHUTE!
_____ I punched the mirror, shattering it into a thousand tiny, fractured, bloody pieces. I screamed gibberish at no-one, my voice rolling over from low rumbling growl to high-pitched whine and back again several times in my wailing. I grabbed the bloody pieces of mirror, and threw them at the walls, further cutting up my hands and sending flecks of blood all over my bathroom until it looked like a "Nightmare on Elmstreet" horror scene.
_____ The next thing I knew, I was standing in my kitchen, my thin-but-sturdy stainless-steel steak knife gripped firmly in my hand. ~Steak~, I thought to myself. I jammed the knife into the base of my thumb. It burned, and grinded against the bone with a sickening scrape. I pulled the knife hard, downward and across my arm, until I had reached the elbow on the opposite side. I watched as my arm opened and spewed forth my juices like a violently-hacked orange. The blood soaking my kitchen floor left the most fascinating Rorschach image I'd ever seen-- if I do say so, myself.
_____ I grew woozey, dizzy, and sick to my stomache. I stumbled out into the hall and made my way to the elevator. Another skip in time, and I was sitting on the beautiful leather recliner in the lounge of my building. I lit up another smoke, and sat back. Somehow, the whole gang showed up again. Carmilla was leaning over my chair from behind, her arm dangling down by my side. Dagon sat across from me, staring with amusement but still very disapproving. Malcolm stood by the door and watched me expressionlessly.
_____ The bloody fingerprint stains on the cigarette took a surprisingly pleasing pattern as I inhaled drag after drag. Had I thought of it beforehand, it probably would have made some pretty interesting art. Too late now, I guess. The smoke rose from my fingertips and nostrils, rising languidly, and filling the air like dragon's breath. As I faded into oblivion, I wondered if I would meet Anahute. I began to wonder who I was. I began to wonder:
_____ Am I here? Was I ever?
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