The Path

The little boy stood at the crossroads, his face scrunched up in deep thought. On one hand the path that cut through the park and into the forest was a shorter route to his home. Even though Mama had warned him over a million times to never use it. On the other hand, he had been so busy playing soccer that the bus left him. He was in trouble already anyway, Mama couldn’t get mad at him twice. She may actually be a little less mad if he got faster.

He shrugged his shoulders, decision made, hoisted his school bag higher up on his shoulders and started walking slowly across the park. The park was a huge sea of green with wild flowers in blue and pink and red bursting out like falling confetti. He saw an orange flower once , but Mama did not believe him, saying he was too young to know what orange is. But he did know. What dummy did not know red and yellow make orange?. Miss lily always praised his drawings, especially those he did with his fingers. But Mama did not like when he played with paint. He had tried to draw a flower on her bedroom wall once, big beautiful flowers in orange. But Mama had gotten so mad she had banished him to bed without supper.
He dearly loved the color orange.
He cleared the sea of green and started up the hill. Up past the broken monkey bars and rusted swings that no one played on anymore. The climbing wall leaned dangerously towards the slides, its multi-colored brick wall covered in climbing ivy. The spinning wheel squeaked loudly as it turned around slowly the white haired child sitting on it waved bashfully at him. He waved back smiling brightly. The park was a grave of disused metal and bricks, rusted metal bars poked dangerously from the ground at an angle that could take someone’s toe if they were not careful. But he was always careful. He went on a treasure hunt once, him and the white haired boy and found over fifty rusted nails. Mama wasn’t happy about that either, that and the white haired boy she couldn’t see. She had pinched his ears and called him a fibber.

Ark was no fibber. He knew that .He never understood why no one saw the white haired boy. But he was his best friend in the world. The white haired boy wasn’t mean to him like Liam and his gaggle of friends. He did not pull his hair or steal his lunch, or call his paintings stupid. White haired boy never even spoke, he just smiled at Ark and let him do all the talking. Ark turned around, chest heaving, waved goodbye at white haired boy, still sitting at the spinner.
The sun was setting below the clouds, making. His shadow long behind him. Ark giggled and jumped. His shadow jumped with him. He raised his hands above his head and waved the around. His shadow did it too.

“Race you to the forest!” he said to his shadow and took off down the hill. His yellow raincoat like a flag behind him, his tiny feet in black shoes, the lace on the left shoe undone, slapping the ground hard as he raced. The forest loomed ahead of him, the narrow footpath, worn by the stomping of a thousand feet, rising up to greet him. He stepped on his undone lace, tripped on his feet and skidded on his hands and knees to a stop.

“Ooww!!” he screamed, holding his tiny hands up to his face,

They were scraped raw and bleeding slightly,

“Tssssssss” he sucked in air through his teeth and tongue.

He stood up gingerly, hands held out in front of him, inspecting his equally bruised knees. Mud coated his shorts,shoes and legs. Pain stabbed his knee repeatedly with the same rhythm as his fast beating heart. Tears mingled with the mud on his clothes, and he gritted his teeth, determined not to cry.

The shadows from the tree creeped eerily at his feet. Like monks bowed down in worship. The muddy path into the forest loomed ahead of him,like a nightmare, he looked behind him,confused. But the hill that he had climbed so happily a while back now looked like a mountain threatening to fall and bury him. His bones trembled inside him. His arms and knees were in excruciating fire. He wanted to scream, he wanted his Mama.

Ark whimpered, cold sipping through his raincoat and school sweater into his bones. He coughed, and wiped the snot from his tears with the back of his hands. He exhaled, slowly, his voice breaking, threading to release the tears he was working so hard to hold back.
He turned around, and started to walk into the forest.

The white haired boy stood in front of him, angrily shooing him away

“I want t-o t-o go home..” he whimpered

The white haired boy waved at him angrily pointing back up the hill. Ark Turned around but there was no one behind him. He turned back to the boy.

“Home is that way…”

The boy looked behind him, but shook his head, as if to say no and pointed back up the hill.

Ark shook his head at him. His stomach rubbed. He was cold, hurt and angry, and just wanted to go home. He decided to ignore the white haired boy. Even when the boy grabbed at him to stop him, his pale hands going through Ark’s wrist. He walked slowly into the now almost dark forest,limping and grimacing with every step.

The sound of a thousand wings flapping as the birds roosted was the only sound accompanying his painful steps. It got darker the further he walked into the forest. So Ark Counted his steps to distract himself, he knew he need seven hundred and ten steps to get home and he was at one hundred and three,

“One and one and, one and one and five , one and one and six…”

Mama must be so angry by now, he knew he was never allowed to be outside when it was dark. He will gladly give up supper now if only Mama would come find him. He missed his bed, and the bath, and his teddy and the kitchen door that never closed right. He missed his three legged cat, and the smell of Mama’s special drink. Even though it made her mean. He missed sitting outside their trailer and hearing the neighbors argue.

A tree trunk was lying across his path. He stopped counting and looked around him, someone had covered the trunk in dark clothing and a hat. He leaned down, squinting in the semi-darkness, trying to find a way around, he thought the hat was cute so he pulled it back, wondering why someone would dress up a tree.

A dark terrified face stared up at him, mouth stuck in an O , a dark liquid pouring out of his throat making a small pool under around his head. The tree trunk’s hands were holding their neck, as if trying to keep the liquid in.

Ark jumped back, tripping on his feet and landing on his butt. He screamed, the terrified sound bursting out of him like a tsunami. Fear held him in its tight clasp. He clawed at the ground trying to free himself. His limbs turned to water and he could not stand. The tree trunk extended one dark had towards him, a plea streaming out of its neck.

What was Liam doing here, why was he lying across his path? Was this another one of his toments. Why was Liam crying? Ark looked around him, his eyes, two wide saucers on his face. He half expected Liam’s friends to jump out from the trees and pelt him with mud.

A dark hulking figure walked slowly towards him, head wrapped in a metal mask of sorts, its artistry terrifying and beautiful at the same time. Ark crab walked away from the approaching person, the idea of standing up and running completely lost to him. The figure approached still, like a predator stalking prey. It finally caught up with Ark and leaned down towards him,using the spade it was holding on his right hand as support. It twisted its head to the left, and quietly stared at Ark’s heaving form.

“What’s wrong?Ark? “ it whispered

THE GARDEN

The moon was a big, pale face in the clear, starless sky. Dry grass crunched beneath his sandals as Adam strolled through the garden. The nightmare had chased him from his sleep; he could still hear the hounds from hell nipping at his feet, their foul breath just behind his neck. His heart still beat unsteadily, his hands were shaking, little tremors up and down his forearms now and again, as if in memory of the blood he had been elbow-deep in his dream. The quiet night calmed him, and he used his footsteps to steady his breath, counting them at the same steady beat as his heart. He tried to stop it from plummeting into his stomach every few seconds.

He had taken this path a hundred times before, through the dense grove of white birch trees, the short lemon trees caressing his ankles, to the sloping orchard framed by red and purple willows, now just hairy silhouettes in the night, right to the centre of the earth where the tree stood. He had never named this one; he only named it the tree. No word he could think of could cover its magnificence. It was the only one of its kind. Standing over two hundred feet long, its massive trunk, the bark like a wrinkled old woman’s skin, was home to hundreds of different little animals. The gigantic branches spread out in supplication of earth, wind, and sky. Even if he stood on his tippy toes, he could never reach the lowest branch. The other trees spread out from around it: maple, ash, oak, and sycamore in vibrant mixtures. Little rivers and streams that swelled when it rained covered the forest floor intermittently. This was his home, his life.

The tree did not calm him as it once did; he looked at it, trying to find a glimmer of something—the words of a forgotten prayer, peace, or hope. Maybe even a denial of what has been haunting his dreams for over a month. All he found was the growing chasm of emptiness that had been there for what felt like an eternity. He was floating in a vacuum of misery, tossed either way by forces he couldn’t understand. He craved it; he longed to go back home. This was home as he had always known it; there was that tree on his left he had rammed into the first time he tried flying a Pellian, and the bark was still cracked. That calm mirror, where the moon was reflected, was where he first met and named the lake. He loved to jump in on hot days and play with them. Down that path is where he would take Eve when she was mad at him, because the paths were lined with moon flowers, and they made her sneeze and laugh. This was home and yet it wasn’t. Something was missing. He fell down, grief overwhelming him, hands on the protruding roots, and cried himself to sleep.

Eve, who had offered him a fruit.

Eve woke up to an empty bed again. She sighed and looked around at the empty room. The fire was crackling merrily, a sign that he was not so far gone this time. She sat up on the bed, the soft quilt sliding down her bare torso.

“Adam,” she called softly. Nothing. The cabin beyond was quiet.

She got out of bed, worry drawing her brows together. She grabbed her robe from the closet and put it on, tying it at the waist.

“Adam, are you home?”

Her voice echoed on the empty walls, settling on the sparse furniture Adam had made like dust. She woke out of her room, naked feet on the warm floor. She peeked into the two extra bedrooms: the study, which doubled as the library, and the wooden, rustic shelves stacked with books. The living area, large and inviting, was her last stop. Here she found him on the couch, head resting on the armrest, legs crossed on the opposite armrest. He stared at the sunrise through the glass walls, his brows furrowed in anguish. His eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, she noted. It broke her heart to see him like this—so anguished. She had tried everything to ease his burden, but Adam wouldn’t talk to her. She had no idea what was going on, and she was getting tired of his brooding science.

She sighed, rubbing her forehead.

“Adam…Are you ok?” He glanced over at her, saying nothing.

“When are you ever going to talk to me? I am trying, Adam. Look at me; I am really, really trying.”

She walked towards him, standing in his line of sight. He had lost a couple of pounds. His ribs were starting to show and he was overdue a shave. He said nothing, still. Lost in whatever hell he was stuck in.

“I am going to go for a swim, join me?” she asked, hesitantly.

He shook his head no, stood up and left the room.

Eve’s face fell; a thousand sharp shards pierced her heart. For this? This inhumane silence? She sacrificed everything for this. Ruined the garden, just for her husband to turn into this stranger, this husk of a human

She walked out of the cabin, the sun bathing her in light and illuminating the tears streaming down her face. Her angry footsteps led her straight to the centre, to the tree. Even Adam, blessed as he was with names, could not name.  She stared at it angrily. stared at her.

Lilith glided down the tree, her black hair flowing on a phantom wind. she was taller, taller than Adam by a few inches, her form lithe and strong. She had big brown eyes, with thick eyelashes, her petite nose and full lips fit her face perfectly. She landed daintily in front of Eve, smiling her maniac smile.

“Eveey darling, long time no see!”  her voice was high pitched, so at odds with her sultry figure, it always took Eve by surprise.

“Lilith, why are you still here? Haven’t you done enough?” With a worried glance behind her, Eve grabbed her and pushed her around the tree.

Lilith faded from her grasp like smoke, then reappeared behind her, flicking her hair.

“rellaaxx, Evee, your precious husband can’t see me, we have already established that, what brings  you to my office?”

Eve flipped around to face her, her eyes baulking.

“ You promised me, that if I ate of the fruit, we would be happy. You said, we would be free. So why,why are we stuck in this prison? Why is my husband fading away right before my eyes?”

“ you are free”

“ no I am not !”

“Evey, you came to me; I did not seek you out; you came to me tired of the garden, suffocating; you said you wanted out. Why would HE create a universe but stick you in a corner of it? You wanted to know about life. Why does the tree grow? Why this tree? Why do fish swim? Why is Adam Adam?. I answered your questions. I helped you; don’t you know now? Don’t you have the answers now? Sweet Evey?”

Eve looked at her shocked, a sinking unpleasant feeling spreading through her limbs. Her heart thumped in her chest, she felt light headed. The morning breeze was suddenly too sharp, too cold.

“I did not ask for this! I could not have asked for this and you know it!” she hissed.

“ you asked for freedom” Lilith laughed.

“I ASKED FOR LIFE!” Eve screamed, falling to her knees and crying into her hands

“This, Eve, darling, is life. This emptiness, this need for something more, something grand,. This walking around thinking you serve a bigger purpose, that there is more to you than just flesh and blood and air on bones. You are nothing but dust, Eve,” Lilith growled. “This is life; life is toil and sadness. Life is a heavy cloud surrounding your heart; darkness always follows you around, making it hard to breathe because you are darkness.”

Eve simpered, hugging herself. A thousand shards cut into her skin. The tree swayed and moaned with her beating heart. She hugged herself tighter, trying to shut out Lilith’s words. They hissed at her, biting her, tempting her. She wanted to scream, but she choked on her voice. Her guilt was like a thick, wet blanket smothering her, covering her head to toe. She had messed up. She had killed the garden; in her quest to know more, she had ruined her home and ruined her husband.

The wind picked up, shaking the trees. All she could see was Lilith. Lilith. The only one who answered her questions in the garden. Lilith walking with her, teaching her about all the animals Adam named and the crawlies that he did not like, so Lilith named them. Lilith, who taught her how to speak with the snakes and who, after a lot of begging, offered her the fruit from the tree. She only wanted to know; she wanted to do more than exist and serve.She offered the fruit to Adam. Now they were doomed, and it was her fault.

She was sorry. She was very sorry; if only she could go back.

The earth shook, and a magnificent light filled the garden. And a voice boomed from above.

“Eve, my child..”

HIM,HER, US.

I loved and lived and died for him. I would have done anything. I did everything for him. I loved him more than I ever loved myself, he was my drug. I was a hopeless addict, I was blind and deaf and mute and dumb where he was concerned. I was enthralled, caught in a web of his approval; I sought it, with every fiber of my soul. His disquiet was my undoing. I would move heaven and earth just to see his smile. The more I gave, the more he craved. I forgot who I was without him. He was my life, more than my life was mine.  He seeped into every pore of me and made himself at home. I was dying. And I didn’t know it. I was content to just have found someone who loved me. Who saw me, saw my faults that he made seem to be bigger, worse than his. He saw every filthy thought and weakness that coated my soul like dirt, and loved me still. I believed him, good God, I believed him.

 Time was a hypnotist pendulum I was lost in its warped face. The suns glare was like a hundred tiny needles in my eyes. Every single gasping breath was like snorting glass, everything hurt. I was pathetic, scum of the earth. I was the dumbest woman ever born.  How could I, how could I have been so stupid? Tremors racked through my body from holding back tears, my arms lay heavy on my sides. My knuckles were bloody and bruised from hitting internal walls repeatedly. Guilt wracked me. A demon had wrapped its bony fingers around my neck and was chocking me. My throat felt like I had been screaming for eternity. I probably was.  But on the outside I was calm and collected. No tear slipped down my face no blood coated my hands.

“Ms. Maisel, the doctor would see you now” the throaty receptionist said, head bent over his laptop. Fingers tap, tapping away.

I sighed. He was still mad at me. Once, his petty anger would have excited me, I would have demanded he gets on his knees with a leather collar on, just like he wanted, just like he craved. I would have whipped his ass bloody, and then fucked him raw.

I walked past his desk not sparing him a glance, towards the closed mahogany doors. I pushed them open not bothering to knock. They opened up into a long rectangular room, the walls painted stark white, with a large window opening up to the bay bellow.  A large comfortable grey couch sits on the right, its pillows plumped and inviting. The wooden floor was covered with a white and grey rug that invited you to take your shoes off and feel the texture. The walls had artfully placed abstract pieces. To the right, two comfortable armchairs in blue sat facing the couch. Here she was seated on one of them, a queen holding court, her astonishingly beautiful face calm and smiling softly. My heart stopped like it did every time I saw her. I snarled at her.

“I don’t appreciate you forcing me to do this”

“Ms. Maisel, please have a seat” her voice was annoyingly pretty like a three year olds ‘

 “Nyissisi nye nye nyeee” I replied, plunking my ass down on the couch

“I am not forcing you to do anything. Coming to see me three days a week is recommended by the court”

“Exactly. A recommendation I would have been happy enough to ignore, if you hadn’t tattled told on me you little tattle tale”

“Ms. Maisel  …”

“Oh for fucks sake call me, Kry, I am not an old unmarried maid of seventy. Yet”

“Kry, you have missed a month of our meetings, I was getting worried about you. We were making so much progress, don’t you think?”

“Exactly, I was getting better, no more weird bad dreams, I am fully healed, thanks to you, so I figured, though it had been a pleasure talking to you these  past glorious afternoons, it was time for our journey to end”

“Kry, in my honest professional opinion, we had just started scratching the surface, you still have a lot of unhealed childhood trauma that still inform your life now, that is why you make the decisions you do in relationships, our goal here is to try and understand what happened that night, and how you ended up there”

I fidgeted in my seat, avoiding her eyes; I could feel my heart rate slow down, as if my heart was too tired to go on. The air was dense and rough, chaffing at my nose. I sat on my sweaty palms

“What happened that night has been the subject of every major headline these past six months.” my voice was surprisingly steady, “I have been acquitted of all and any wrong doing as you well know”

“I am not accusing you of anything, Kry” she sat back head tilted, her big brown eyes boring into mine, I could feel a headache coming. “I understand that you might feel some guilt…”

I scoffed, looking out the window.

“The two people involved in this were very close to you, it would be totally understandable if you felt any guilt on their passing as the only survivor”

“Dr. Pretty, I am not the first woman on earth to have their boyfriend cheat on them with their best friend it is such a cliché it’s laughable. So no, I don’t feel any guilt or anger, I have forgiven them”

“ And that is what concerns me”

Laughter tore out of me, heavy and derisive

“You are concerned that I have forgiven my ex? Isn’t that the goal of this whole process?”

“I am concerned that you have convinced yourself that you are ok, so thoroughly that you actually believe it. You never speak out about your feelings because good girls don’t cause a fuss; you were in a five year long emotionally abusive  …”

“Don’t!” I hissed, “Kurt, was never abusive, he was the most caring person and he loved me. Even when I did not deserve it. Especially when I did not. You did not know him.”

“You are right I did not, but I know of him. He was controlling, at first you thought it was because he genuinely cared about you, that’s why he would tell you not to speak to people you have known you entire life, what to eat, what to wear, where to live and work. He would show up at your house in the middle of the night during an argument because he couldn’t sleep when you were fighting. He would randomly show up at your place of work, guilt you into doing things you did not want to do, make promises he never intended to keep, as long as you toed the line, lived exactly like he wanted but it wasn’t  ever enough Kry was it?”

I glared at her, how dare she, speak of my shame so nonchalantly! Like she had the right to pull my heart out and stomp on it. Who was she anyway? To sit there in her perfect little world, with her perfect little office in judgment of me? I craved for a spiked whip in my hand, and then we would see who had the control here and who was depraved. My lips trembled from the insults I held back.  I leaned back on the sofa, spreading my hands across the headrest and smiled gleefully at her.

“I fucked your receptionist, do you know?  He is a frequent member at my club now, the prim and proper Andrie; he has very very…interesting tastes”

She looked at me calmly, understandingly like I was a puzzle she had finally solved. I wanted to punch her teeth in.

“You should come to my club sometime, we will have so much fun, don’t you think Dr.Pretty”

“I don’t like your nickname for me, please call me Liza”

I raised an eyebrow.

“I am not allowed to see you outside office hours, you know this”. She leaned forward again, big eyes so earnest, like a child begging Santa for a puppy, please let me in, let me help you, please, they seemed to say “What happened that night Kry, let’s talk about that?”

I looked away, staring out the window. The water was deep green in the distance; sea gulls flew and dived elegantly in an eternal waltz with the wind. I kicked off my high heels and pressed my feet on the rug, imagining it to be the sand I would rather be walking on at the moment. Warm sea breeze fluttered in through the window and caressed my face. I breathed deeply willing my heart to stop racing, my blood to stop burning its way through my veins. Willing myself to stop screaming in my head. I wanted to step outside of myself, and float around on a sea of ignorance and unknowing. I wanted to un become everything I ever was, everything I was made, I wanted to unknow every lie written on my essence. The demon on my neck laughed. And laughed and laughed and laughed, tears streaming down his black hideous face.  His laughter morphed into mine, and I laughed too. We both laughed at me, at my pathetic stupid self, at that little silver of hope on my broken heart like dying starlight that I refused to let go off. Hope that I will ever get better, ever get past the guilt. The demon and I laughed and laughed, tears streaming down his face, tears that refused to fall from mine.

“Dr. Pretty, come on now, you already know what happened.”

“True but not from you. I want to know our version”

I sighed, and glanced back at her. She was still siting forward, holding her note pad loosely in her left hand. She had not written anything on it yet, anger burned a million holes in my stomach, wasn’t I worth a sentence on her dammed book?

She followed my gaze with her eyes, “would you be more comfortable if I jotted down a few notes?”

“No” I grunted rolling my eyes, “how much time do we have left?”

“well,” she leaned back on her chair and crossed her legs, “because you missed so many sessions, we had to add an extra hour, court orders” she smiled warmly, “Do you have somewhere to be?”

I glared at her nerve. She knew I was still under house arrest and was only allowed to come to her office and then to my club for a few hours a day.

“I have a date with this hot girl I met the other day” I drawled

“What is she, blind?”

“With these boobs honey, I can make anyone drool”

“Good thing you could afford them, you have nothing else going for you” she scoffed.

 I leaned forward on my seat, shoulders thrown back giving her a good view of my cleavage in my tight red blouse, “Been checking me out, have we Dr. pretty?”

Her eyes roved over my body, slowly, taking in my posture, my chest raised up, tummy tucked in, my black skirt riding high on my hips showing my brown thighs, black garter belt barely visible on my left thigh. Desire hit me, swift and unexpected; i bit my lip, stifling a moan, pressing my thighs together. She shifted slightly on her seat and licked her lips.  My eyes darted to that small movement like it was my salvation, they trembled slightly.

“Mmmh,” she cocked her head to the left, “You have shadows beneath your eyes, you have lost a couple of pounds, your left leg has been bouncing a mile a minute and how have you been sleeping?”

I glowered at her, rolled my eyes and fell back on the chair. I crossed my legs to mimic her posture, “scaredy cat” I scoffed

“Kry, talking about things can help give your perspective, I know it can be hard because you were punished as a child for showing emotion, but they were wrong, your father was wrong, you need to be able to experience the full spectrum of emotion you are capable of. I know, you don’t expect much from this session but give me a chance, at the very least when you are done here I can be able to tell your probation officer you can be allowed to reenter society. ”

“I don’t need to reenter society Dr.Pretty, I love being indoors juuusstt fiiineee,”

“Don’t you miss the beach?”

Longing rushed through me like an orgasm. Of course I missed the beach, I miss the smell of the sea, I missed being out in the water surfing and collecting shells, I missed swimming naked in the sea, letting the water caress me.

“If you try and participate in this, I can get them to let you out at least two days a week,” she said, kindly

I sighed, long and forlorn, if she was willing to negotiate then I could use it to my advantage.

“Four days a week, we reduce the time I spend in your office to only an hour, and you come to my club”

“Three days, the time you spend here remain at two hours, and I will come to your club as long as you aren’t there”

I laughed. “Four days, one and a half hours and a time stamped video of you as proof that you were in my club”

She smiled, “three days, one and half hours, I am not getting naked in the video and you can’t quit”

“Three days, one and a half hours, you are most certainly getting naked, I promise not to quit”

She sighed, a cute smile playing on her full lips, “deal”

The word clanged into me, breaking my ribcage and cooling my blood. Even the demon on my neck stared at her in surprise. I stretched out my left cold palm; she clasped it tightly with her soft right one, “deal” I intoned.

She held my palm a bit longer, and then joined brought her left hand to clasp her right so that my palm lay in the middle, of her; she rubbed her thumb back and forth on the back of mine. Back and forth, back and forth, smiling

I drew my hand away from hers, slightly uncomfortable and a lot turned on again. I cleared my throat, “what now”

“You tell me, what now, how do you want to proceed, are you ready to start where we left off?”

I wasn’t, I was nowhere ready, good God, no one can ever be ready to face the horrors of their past. I had been hounded and chased by reporters looking for a story; I had lost friends I thought I never would. I was the latest sensation, the biggest news since the death of hundred children in an orphanage last year.  I was the poster child of the absolute macabre. I wanted it to end, yet I did not. This was my punishment for being so easily misled, for letting my heart lead where my brain should have. For allowing a man to destroy me. Again.  Dr.Pretty was a decent enough human, but I know, I knew, everything is corruptible, everything can go bad. Anything humane had an expiration date; it just needed a bit of a push. A bit of an eraser, to get rid of the layer of humanity and let the beats crawl out.  I smiled at her, she had no idea, I was the eraser, I was the one who will get rid of her ‘I can save everyone’ ideology. No one can be saved we were all doomed, to live a life of utter unfulfilment and stress. To be lonely when in crowds, hungry when we are full. An Ouroboros of misery and longing for a better that will never come.

“It was our anniversary,” I started. She simply stared at me eyes encouraging

“We were supposed to go out for dinner, then some dancing; Kurt was a stickler about time. But I wasn’t feeling well, I wasn’t feeling him. The shine that he was, was  beginning to fade in my eyes and I could see the cracks, I had been seeing the cracks for a while actually. ” I sighed, rubbing my forehead, the threat of a headache had come back full on. Someone was beating bone drums in my brows softly, heating up my brain, stinging my eyes. 

“he had ordered this beautiful sheer grey evening gown with lace trimmings, I loved it at first sight, that is the only reason I left the club early to go home, because I was looking forward to wearing that dress, seeing myself in it. I did not want to be late he had said dinner reservations were at seven so I called a cab instead of walk the ten minutes home, and I think he was expecting me to walk home. I wish I had walked home, and then I wouldn’t have found him fucking my best friend’s mouth. I wasn’t shocked really I knew that had been going on for a while, but the evidence of it, having him rub it in my face like that. He saw me you know, he looked up and saw me, and he smiled. That son of a bitch smiled at me.”

I looked back out into the bay the sun was out and bright, everything was white and blue and green and pretty, the world was drenched in color, and I was dying. I was stuck in grey and white and black.

“I was numb, I was happy, this right here was my way out, now I could leave him, and he won’t make a fuss, we could both be happy. I was angry, how dare he? How could he betray me like this, in my own home no less, in my kitchen? I was confused, and all this time she was on her knees, slurping away at him as if he was a meal. I must have made a sound, a scream of rage, called her name maybe? I don’t remember, I remember her standing, she was half naked, her blouse to her waist like they had been in too much of a hurry, to get fully undressed. It’s not what you think. She said it’s not what you think. It couldn’t be what I was thinking because in that moment I was thinking, damn, I wouldn’t be able to wear that dress, she could explain she said, she was very remorseful, she was sorry, it never meant to happen, it just did. Kurt stood smirking behind her like we were both too petty for his notice, and were both making such an unnecessary fuss.  She turned around, going on and on about tell her Kurt, tell her, tell me what? I wanted to ask but I couldn’t because I was still screaming, I remember telling myself stop screaming, you will wake up the neighbor’s dog, stop screaming. Why am I screaming?”

I could hear the doctor’s pen scratching furiously on her pad.

“she must have seen the look on Kurt’s’ face, or he might have said something, in his annoyingly condescending tone, there were knives on the counter he was leaning on, and she grabbed one, first she threatened to slice her wrists, and I wanted to cheer her on, tell her do it, do it, end this night mare for us both, but Kurt grabbed her he was screaming at her, eyes bulging, neck thickly veined, he tossed her away from him, saying she was nothing more to him but a distraction, she had a demon on her back you know, and when she lunged so did the demon and I watched her stab at him and stab and stab and stab. Blood was like a little stream flowing down my kitchen to my feet carrying with it copper scents. When he fell, she fell with him, still stabbing like he was a piece of meat being prepped for dinner. I lost my voice, I lost my mind , I  wanted to help her kill him, I wanted to stop her,  Kurt was crying out screaming my name, over and over, do something he said, gun, he said, the demon on her shoulder chased me out the kitchen up the stairs to the loft bedroom, I upturned my drawers until I found the Glock 17 he got me for my birthday, the demon was jumping on the bed, screeching tearing up my sheets, i could hear her coming up the stairs, wailing, what have I done, what have I done? She still had the knife, half naked, covered in blood like an extra in a horror movie, she came at me, knife raised, eyes wild, and I pulled the trigger. The demon jumped on my neck, and squeezed and squeezed until I passed out”

I looked back at her, she was staring at me thoughtfully, head cocked to the side. If she asked me how talking about it made I feel, I was going to puke on her rug.

“How sure were you she was going to hurt you?”

I stared at her, brows drawn together quizzically. How sure was I? She had already hurt me; she had played with what was mine, so she had to pay. Wait, could the doctor tell? Could she tell me that I had practiced that tale? Over and over in my mirror, going over the details that leaked in the press and making my story fit, did she know? could she see past my thin veneer of false hood to the filth within?

“Liar, liar” the demon on my neck purred in my ear, “little lying murderess, she knows you are lying”

Three muffins and a bottle

“I sold it.”

“You sold it?”

“Yes, I did.”

“You sold, it, it in this sentence being the house? You sold the house?

“Yes”

“This house, our house, the house I am standing in right now?”

“Yep”

“You sold this house? Four bedrooms, three baths, a brown brick bungalow, late 18th-century colonial-style house? This house has been in your family for generations. The house you swore you would only ever sell over your dead body? This house?

“Yep, I sold it for three blueberry muffins and a bottle”

“You… you what”

” I sold the house”

“Babe…” he sighs in exasperation “you could not have sold the house, stop kidding”

“You need to leave by midnight, not earlier or later than midnight, you can only take one suitcase, leave your underwear.”

She walks around the American-style kitchen, rambling the instructions, her hair a sea of black clouds barely contained by her scarf, her long skirts trailing on the dirty brown tiles. Her fingers touched the countertops as if to commit them to memory. Her left hand holds an empty wine glass. She looks at it, surprised to see it there. Then gently place it on the marbled countertop.

He approaches her from his position on the archway, his hands raised, his voice soft as if talking to a scared animal.

“Babe, listen, look at me. Hey, look at me, you cannot sell the house, Ok, come on, let’s sit down and I will make you the rooibos tea you like.”

She stops her pilgrimage around the kitchen counter, facing away from him, towards the floor-to-ceiling glass wall, letting in the evening sunset, and sighs a thousand sorrows.

“Stop talking to me like a child, Adam,” Her voice is strong and assured.

He glances at her, surprised at her tone, then quickly at the empty glass of wine on the red-veined marble countertop.  It’s taking longer nowadays, he thought.

“I am not, I am just…” he stops close to her, his hand almost at her shoulders, “I am just trying to understand”

She turns around violently, her necklaces, whipping around like tentacles.

“What the fuck don’t you understand, Adam?’

He steps back, unsure, his bloodshot eyes darting back and forth. He grabs his overgrown dreadlocks and starts pacing around. His too-loose trousers whipped back and forth on his skinny legs.

“I just mean, I… I just mean, you said you sold the house? What the hell? Three Muffins and a bottle? What does that mean?

Anna looks at Adam, her eyes listless; she sways back and forth as if she is in a trance.

“The witches, the witches in the forest, black soil and blood. Pack only one suitcase, and leave at midnight, no later or earlier. Leave at midnight.”

Adam looks at her desperately. She looks ethereal, like a nymph risen from the stream. Her dark skin lit up by an inner light. The setting sun, pouring through the huge floor-to-ceiling wall behind her, settling on her form like fairy dust

”Anna, Babe, listen, talk to me; who did you sell the house to?”

Her gurgling laugh bounces across the room settling in his ears like ticking time bombs. She grabs her stomach, bending over, and her laugh tearing her in two.

“Adam,” his name is a gasp from her lips, competing with her laughter for her breath. “Adam, Jesus, why don’t you listen to me? Why don’t you listen? You don’t, you don’t, and you never listen to me.”

“I am trying, goddammit! Who did you sell the house to? Why now?  Why…”

“Adam, AdamAdam… …You never listen; you never ever listen; why don’t you listen to me?” the question comes out wet and broken, She holds her hands over her face and crouches down, hoping to hold the fragments of reality to her face.

Adam strolls to her and gazes down at her. A slow madness passes across his face. He leans down and smells her hair, then crouches down at her sobbing form.

“Babe, babe, I am listening. I always try to listen to you. Ok, I try. You just don’t make a lot of sense sometimes; you get stuck in your head. I am the only one who truly understands you.”

He gently grabs her thin shoulders and cradles her to his chest, like a baby.

“Come on; have another glass of wine ok?”

OPEN HOUSE

The rain pelts the car windows like small stones falling from the sky; Jeffery sits inside, the AC belching out warm stale air that smells like death. He cups his hands around his mouth blowing out air to warm them. Outside, the large neon sign flashes MOTEL in blues reds, and oranges. He keeps glancing at the large glass doors as if any minute his dreams would walk out to him in cowboy boots and a Stetson hat.

“Come on goddammit!”

He grabs the steering wheel with both hands, knuckles pale, skin glowing in the lazily flashing lights, red-rimmed eyes wide and searching, trying to see beyond the OPEN sign on the doors to the people within. He haunches down, scratching his clean-shaven face on his old ratty leather jacket

The motel glass doors are pushed out and a man and woman step onto the pavement. The man is taller than the woman and carries himself as if his limbs are too long for his body; he holds his jacket over both their heads and guides the woman across the parking lot. The woman has a petite frame, and her long tutu skirt, plain t-shirt, and impractical heels are her only defence against the cold. Her face is round and strikingly beautiful even from a distance

she keeps glancing around her, worriedly, her slim arms wrapped around herself like a child seeking comfort.

 Jeffery, spotting the two, smiles wickedly and quickly leans down in his chair trying to make himself unseen yet able to observe the two. The woman sways and stumbles almost falling into a puddle but the man grabs her and pulls her to him. She tries waving him off, but he grabs her still and leads her to a lonely green Buick parked on the other side of the parking lot. The two seem to be engaged in some sort of argument, with the woman gesturing anxiously and the man calming her down. He helps her to the passenger side of the car and jogs to the driver’s side.  After a few minutes of muted, animated conversation, he starts the car and they pull out of the parking lot.

“Finally” Jeffery whispers, eyes narrowed as he stares at the retreating car.

Hands trembling visibly on the steering wheel, Jeffery starts his car and follows them, making sure to keep one car between him and the Buick. The highway smells like cool water pouring over burnt sand. The traffic moves slowly every driver aware of the rain and fog that has risen from the lake like smoke from a witch’s cauldron.

The night air is heavy with curiosity and anticipation, like a big monster long asleep but now awakened. Jeffery hums to imaginary music, then he blindly reaches towards his stereo and turns it on.  He skips through channels, his eyes bouncing between the road and the dial until he lands on a hard rock station. The screech of violin goes to war with the drums and electric guitar. The bloody lyrics are nothing but a continuous screech of violent words. Jeffery grabs his steering wheel harder and screeches right back at the stereo. The wind has brought the scent of his prey to him. He was a hunter, long denied, and tonight, he would feast on blood and gore and fear. 

The green Buick veers suddenly to the left taking an exit off the highway.

“Fuck, shit goddammit!” 

He has been exposed. His headlights were a lighthouse warning his prey to his presence. An irrational fear grips him. He feels as if the target of his pursuit were looking behind at him, mocking him through the rain and glass and fog. He swears more vehemently, more filthily. His whole body strums in annoyance and disgust, His hands shake so violently he loses control of his car. The truck on his right honks angrily, warning him off. He reaches blindly for his passenger seat and grabs his cracked phone. He punches the numbers,then waits.

Two rings stretch out to three. Then the call is connected.

“Hello” Her voice was a thousand stars settling on his skin. He shivers deliciously

“Hello, who is this?” She asks, fear coating her vowels 

“Evaaaa….”  He groans into his speaker. His hands tighten convulsively on the steering as if it were her throat.

“Look behind you, darling…”

there is a slight, anxious pause, then,

Her gasp echoes in the distance between them.

“Go! Go! Nik, he is right behind us, I told you. For heaven’s sake, I told you he will find me, drive faster!”  Her scream was muffled as if she had thrown away her phone.

The green Buick shoots through the night, cutting in front of other cars, weaving through the traffic like a puppet on a string, helpless to the whims of the wind.

“Fuuck!” Jeffery screams and steps on his gas. He pursues them relentlessly, hand fixed on his horn to get other drivers off his path. “Move you fucking assholes!”

Jeffery speeds up, headlights on full blast, his horn a war cry, all pretences at stealth forgotten. He reaches for his phone with his left hand and redials the number; she picks on the fourth ring.

“Stop the car, Eva”

“Jeffery please leave me the hell alone,” she cries, desperately

“Eva. Stop the darned car, I just wanna talk honey”

“No, No you fucking coward! You will never hurt me again you hear? You dammed filth! You crazy pig!” it was like a dam had broken and she couldn’t hold back her words anymore.  “It was a cup of coffee you prick! I did not sign my life away for a cup of coffee!”

“Hang up the darned phone Eva stop speaking to that Psycho!” Nik screams in the background.

Jeffery curses and throws his phone on the car floor. He was drawing closer almost right at their tail.

“Stop the fucking car! Stop it! That damn bitch is mine, she is mine goddammit!” Jeffery screams, mouth foaming at the sides. He violently yanks at his black spiky hair then rams his car into Nik’s.

The rain is a frenzied orchestra to their disharmony. Nik’s car jerks violently and is momentarily suspended for a few agonizing breaths before it hits the road with a loud thud, almost running into a truck. Jeffery laughs maniacally, stepping on the gas. The highway is a carnival of speeding cars, lashing lightning, and angry drivers. The other drivers frantically horn and get out of Jeffery and Nik’s way. Some pull their heads out of their windows and curse incoherently at them. Jeffery laughs and laughs giving them a lewd gesture as he speeds past them.

 Jeffery sped up again and nicked Nik’s car. It spins wildly in circles, ramming into two more cars before coming to rest on the curb, bonnet smoking. Jeffery speeds past, narrowly avoiding the tangled mess of metal, engine oil, and blood.

 The “Road Closed” sign is a blurred image speeding past his window. His laughter is the background music to his madness. He doesn’t notice he is the only car on the road until it is too late, and he goes flying over, past the unfinished bridge into the cold night air. Lighting forks the sky, illuminating the sinister image of his car suspended in the air, his smile, large and grotesque still on his face. Then the car falls down down into the watery grave. The lake embraces him, slowly at first, then faster, faster, filling his mouth, nose, and lungs.