Chapter 9 #2
Without even looking at me, he answers, “That is a question for another day.” He examines the object a little longer before he brushes past me to leave. “Come on.”
“Where are we headed, anyway?” I try to break the silence that fell between us. “You didn’t disclose that earlier.”
“Don’t worry about that, sugar.” He says with a sharp tone, “I’ve got a plan.”
A bit of frustration slips as I try to push for more information. “Don’t be sus now, Christy. Where-” I am cut off by some crack head looking for a fix, but I’m not scared, Christian won't let anything happen to me. Right?
Christian
“Fuck you, man!” I throw my arm up in front of Evelyn, “We ain’t got your fucking shit!
” Evelyn is watching me with her dazzling baby blue eyes, boring holes into the side of my head—she is scared, and I know it.
It may have been cold, which doesn't help, but a shiver from the frost and trembling with fear are distinctively different.
If the Marines and an abusive father taught me anything, it was that.
The vibration of her horror soaked deep, rattling my bones and awaking an anger that had long since been caged.
The bat in my hand was getting heavier as my urge to swing grew.
It’s been a long time since this bat and I felt as one, and it wouldn’t be the first time it helped to make a problem disappear.
In a flash, the tweaker lunges at her like a rabid animal, and I couldn't stop myself.
I shoulder Evelyn. Propelling her out of the way, taking her spot in front of the doped-out addict, as he grabs the length of the bat.
We push and shove in a life-or-death tug of war, before I sweep my leg forward, and my foot meets his calf.
With a quick jerk, his feet leave the pavement, making room for his ass.
His backside collides with the cement as I raise the ligneous object above my head like I'm calling down the power of Grey Skull.
Then, yanking my arms back down, the weapon meets his head.
Simultaneously, he drops his hand hard, and laughter erupts like the barking of multiple seals.
My heart moves to my throat, but I swallow it back, relieving it from its failed attempt to flee.
The horror that plagues my eyes, as I turn my gaze, broke me. I follow his dark, empty stare. A barbed grin smears over his face, and I see he has plunged a needle so deep into her ankle that it dimples in her skin.
His eyes dart back to mine as I stay focused on the syringe clutched in his cracked-out hand.
I watch as he slowly pushes down on the plunger, the liquid leaving the vial and invading her body—poisoning her.
“No!” I roar, turning to face the monster—the bastard that just signed his death certificate.
He doesn't even care that he is about to get his brains smashed in.
He erupts in laughter again and I kick him square in the jaw.
Choking on his blood as it pools in the back of his throat, he leans forward, spitting on my shoe. He would have already been a dead man, but her groaning catches my attention, “Sugar!” I shout, diving after her, catching her as she collapses.
“Christy,” her eyes roll to the back of her head. “Christy, is that you?”
I check her pulse, it’s quick, but something I must allot more time to, for the purpose of allowing the drug to rear its ugly face.
I prop her up against the brick wall, then turn to oppose the victim about to be consumed by my wrath.
“What did you give her?” I stalk toward my prey—a predator on the prowl.
“You will tell me.” I smack the bat against my hand. “I will not. Ask. Again.” His laughter quickly turns to panic. His words start to pour from his lips.
It begins like a stutter, then a bout of diarrhea from the mouth. “It was a... please no... Are you going to kill me?” I look down my nose at him—the tip of the bat pressed hard into his bony chest.
“Christy,” the state of her voice grinds like a key stroking against the lock that hinders my demons. Their bonds loosening with every falter of her speech. “Chri-” She falls quiet, my sugar... my drug—is silent.
Evelyn
The pain shot through my body like poorly done acupuncture. Spreading, stabbing, like venom crawling through my veins. He is drifting further away from me. I reach for him… for Christian.
The ground?
How did I get to the ground?
My hands come into view, and I am distracted by my fingers as they distort and elongate before my eyes. Crying out his name, fighting. “Christian!” His name is sweet like caramel on my tongue… sticky and hot.
Why isn’t he listening to me?
I’ve been screaming for him, I don’t know how long—time feels irrelevant.
The colors around me begin to sing. As they grow brighter and more vivid, their songs reach octaves that put tinnitus to shame. The ringing in my ears and vibration in my skull—caused by the many voices that all speak at once—morph together until the words become an incoherent rambling.
Churning in my stomach aids the sudden onset of dizziness.
While the crawling under my skin... the tingling…
makes it feel like it's moving molecule by molecule, barely holding the door shut from the nausea that’s been rapping at it like the police with suspicion of foul play.
My chest and throat start to burn with the acidic intrusion of vomit and stomach bile while the feeling of my airway closing triggers an all too familiar sensation.
Sweating, panting, struggling, drowning, freezing… free.
Christian
One glance in her direction, her eyes have closed, and her breathing is shallow.
It takes every fiber of my being not to run to her and hold her, to kiss away her pain.
To be there when she comes to and tell her, “Everything will be alright”.
My eyes burn with the lashings my tears are giving, threatening to pour out. Her pain. I can feel it.
How did I let this happen?
Where did he come from?
I stand there staring at her, lost in the guilt of my failure. It's only when the pleas slowly, meticulously, fade to a chuckle, soft at first, then steadily transcending into a vile fit of laughter.
It was that moment my demons laughed back, “You dare laugh in my presence after what you did?” Still facing Evelyn, I raise my head to the sky silently apologizing to God for the ultimate sin I am about to commit.
The shackles that thwart my past ghosts in the shadows of my soul, shatter—the behemoth has been unleashed.
I take a long-drawn-out turn back to the miscreant that caused her suffering, and with the most sinister tone, my dybbuk snarls in response, “Now. We. Play.”