by Fox Lancet
Saliea shook the last thought from her head, deflating the feeling in her chest. Bruises from the night were still fading. Yellow prints of his merciless handling. She threw her legs off the bed and surveyed the disappearing marks on her ankles and thighs. Standing, she stretched and ran fingers through her soft hair, pulling apart tangles as they came.
Her back was to the window. A tension grew between her shoulder blades. Saliea approached her window, pushed back the violet mesh curtain and stared warily at the plastic slats of the white blinds. Her bottom lip tucked in her teeth, she hovered a hand over the blinds. The hesitant game had become a habit. Every morning on waking she was convinced one of the red-eyed men was standing on the sidewalk below her second-story window.
Abruptly her finger darted between two slats, jerking the flexible plastic down so she could peek out into the world. A breath caught in her throat, but was released just as quickly. A woman wearing an all-black track suit was briskly walking her dog by the yard. Saliea placed a hand on her chest as her heart fluttered back to a regular pace.
The strangest part of it all was she wasn’t afraid to see them again. She was afraid that she wouldn’t.
She turned away from the window and plopped down on the black stool standing in front of a black vanity. The mirror was rectangular and relatively unadorned save for two newspaper clippings. Both events occurred prior to her experience at the Gothic. One disclosed a strange event on the highway where someone had tossed grenades into rush-hour traffic, killing twenty-three and injuring sixty-two. Ten days later the same event occurred in a town up north. That clipping was on the white carpet at the foot of the vanity with the article of her encounter at the Gothic. The grenade incident had not been repeated for several weeks now. The second clipping stuck to the mirror cited a recent and drastic decline in the local homeless population, due to murdered vagrants.
Saliea glanced at the articles, trying to ignore them while she ran a comb through her hair. She had started the collection a month and a half ago. The collection coincided with a shift in her moods and thoughts. She still remembered the day. It had occurred in the middle of a bright morning and she had been enjoying her day off outside in the perfect weather. Suddenly her vision had gone dark and her heart palpitated, forcing her to suck in every breath. Every muscle burned. Then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone. Her vision cleared and her body calmed. Though, afterward she had become apathetic to everything. As if she had come to accept something significant and she was completely unaware of what it was she was coming to terms with.
Also, after that day, she started having random but intense sensations of something powerful being near to her. She now recognized it occurring when in close vicinity to the ominous, familiar strangers. Originally there had been no pattern to when the experience would happen, just how it felt. She had felt it while walking down the street or driving in a car. It was a heat wave, not like a hot flash, but a searing of her insides, like they were on fire. Something inside her, something that was not her logic or her emotions, would scream. It felt as if part of her was trying to separate and join with whatever was causing the reaction. Her soul? Saliea didn’t know much about that stuff; both her parents were atheist and the idea of religion never appealed her interest.
A muffled guitar solo broke the silence of the bedroom. Saliea twisted around, her gaze drifting over all the surfaces. Deep vocals joined the subdued song. Saliea began lifting clothes and papers before finally lifting her comforter. The song cut clearly into the room and Saliea ended it by answering the call.
“What’s up, kid?” She braced the phone between her shoulder and jaw while she slid on a pair of boot-cut, black jeans. The other party responded.
“I can call you whatever I please, shit-face.” Saliea sneered and slid her purple-painted-toenail-feet into plain, black flip-flops. She sniggered at the other person’s reaction. “Well, which would you prefer? Kid or Shit-face?”
There was a knock on her door. Saliea huffed, “One sec.” The announcement worked for both parties so she tossed the phone on the bed while she pulled a black tank top from a hanger in her open closet and tugged it on. She snatched up her phone, putting it back to her ear as she opened the door.
On the other side of the door a tall young man with blue eyes and unnatural black hair leaned against the frame. Saliea cocked a brow at him and pulled the phone from her ear, looking down at its face then back at the boy.
“Kid shit-face. I didn’t know you were home.” She smiled wickedly and put out an arm for a casual hug. The young man stepped in and took her up in both his arms, causing her feet to dangle in the air. Saliea coughed.
“Sam, I can’t breathe,” she gasped sarcastically. He released her and she slid heavily back to her five foot-six inch elevation.
“I thought you weren’t supposed to be back from the convention until tomorrow night.” Saliea brushed some of her hair behind her ear. Sam licked his full bottom lip as he looked down at her. She feigned a shudder. “Come on, you know I hate when you look at me like that.” She pushed past him out the door and into the hallway. Sam chuckled after her.
He was one of her two roommates sharing a small three-bedroom, one-bathroom house. The other roommate was a twenty-eight year-old stripper named Lila; her stage name: Cherry. Her rent was paid three months in advance, she drove a sleek Audi CRX that always matched her bright red lips, and Sam and Saliea were pretty sure she was addicted to coke.
“Yeah, the crowd dwindled so much by the third day. There wasn’t much reason for me to stay anymore.” Sam was a twenty-seven-year-old, semi-notorious tattoo artist. He’d just been attending a tattoo convention a town south and had been gone for the last three days. He was also enamored with Saliea, who pretended not to notice.
“Lame, but you still got some new contacts, made some money, blah, blah, yeah?” Saliea’s short journey ended in the kitchen where she pulled some strawberry yogurt from the fridge.
Sam set his hip against the counter, folding his tattooed arms across his chest, over the bright blue t-shirt draping his lank form. He nodded.
“You goin’ into the shop today then, or you gonna take the day off?” Saliea asked.
She popped a spoonful of pink yogurt into her mouth before sliding it out smoothly between her lips. Sam’s own lips parted as he watched the unintentionally seductive action. Saliea licked the remaining yogurt off the silver spoon carefully and eyed Sam when he didn’t answer. His glistening blue eyes were frozen on her mouth and his tongue peeked between his front teeth.
“Sam!” She raised her voice without yelling. His eyes popped up to hers. She hadn’t realized he had tensed up until his body slumped when she regained his attention.
“I hadn’t decided,” Sam answered after a moment’s recollection of the past few seconds to try and remember her question. “Are you goin’ in today?”
“Yea, I’m scheduled to go in. I actually have two appointments.” Saliea and Sam both worked at the same tattoo shop, though Saliea was one of the two resident piercers, not a tattoo artist. Sam nodded in response.
After passing in comfortable silence, Sam’s features became contemplative, then concerned. He regarded Saliea seriously. She twisted her lips sheepishly and looked around the room with only her eyes.
“Uh, are you going to throw up, or did I just mutate?” She licked her spoon again, staring at him.
“You had anymore run-ins or…strange feelings?” She knew what he was talking about immediately and her appetite vanished.
“Yeah, no run-ins but some feelings, yes.” Saliea set her half-eaten yogurt on the counter. The silver spoon was heavier than the contents and the cylinder toppled, the spoon’s handle clanking gently on the countertop. Neither Saliea nor Sam regarded it.
“When, where? Why didn’t you call?” Sam shrugged, seeming irritated. Saliea gave him a perplexed look.
“What the fuck were you gonna do? It would have taken you three hours to get to me and even then
…” She paused and turned away from him, looking out the kitchen window. “If they recognize you as the same guy who got in the way last time, they may just kill you if you try and interfere a second time.” She heard his footsteps behind her, but couldn’t tell where he’d moved to.
“Why do you say that like you know them?” His voice was directly behind her. He had moved into the kitchen. “And how many times have you felt them since the Gothic?”
Saliea rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. “Two or three times, only in passing. Once downtown, which is the furthest from our neighborhood I’ve ever felt it.” She rolled her torso around against the counter so she was facing him again. “And I say it like I know them because I feel like I do, just like they seemed so familiar when I’d never really laid eyes on either of them before.” She ran a hand through her hair, pressing its coolness into the side of her neck.
“I can feel their intentions. I can feel their power, their disdain, their apathy. They don’t give a shit about anyone. Except me, and I could tell they would go to great lengths to have me. Don’t ask me why. I don’t have any idea, but it’s no simple kidnapping scenario.” Saliea stopped herself and pulled a glass from the cupboard for water. Sam took the glass from her and filled it, then pulled a straw from a jar next to the sink. He handed it back to her. She gave him a small, forced smile.
They were both quiet for a few minutes. Saliea sipped on her water, trying to think of nothing. Sam never took his eyes from her. To anyone else, the whole thing would have sounded absurd, but Sam had experienced it firsthand. He had seen the man clear more than half the distance from the floor up to the balcony. He had seen the man’s eyes. Worst of all, he had felt the man’s raw strength.
Saliea had set her water down. She swallowed nothing, and glanced at Sam. He stiffened and stared at her earnestly. They had been close friends for more than four years, despite the one-sided infatuation; Sam was respectful of her feelings, or lack thereof. But the two knew each other’s subtle gestures and neurotic behaviors well.
“What?” Sam managed through tight lips when Saliea did not volunteer her concern.
“I didn’t tell you about something before you left.” Sam’s eyes widened and his bottom lip snagged between his teeth as he glared at her.
“What?” he repeated hollowly.
“Just a few days after the Gothic something…” She hesitated, but continued when Sam slammed a hand on the counter. “Something happened. I thought it might have been an after effect or something, but I think I may have been wrong,” the words rambled from her and she stood straight and walked to the center of the kitchen. “It was a week ago now.”
Sam stood and stepped toward her. “What, goddamn it, Saliea. Fucking what? Spill it already,” he snapped, his chest in front of her face. He stared intently down at her. Her eyes jerked up and met his. When they met, Sam took a step back, relaxing mildly. “Please, what?” he managed more calmly.
Saliea suddenly seemed more composed and she regarded him with arrogance. “Do you remember how I told you when I first felt a change in myself? How things got dark and something inside me was pulling for release?” She waited for his answer. It came as a slight nod. “Something like that happened, but ten-fold.” Sam swallowed this time and leaned back on the counter, still entranced.
“How?” He managed to breathe. Saliea was still strangely collected.
“I was out in the back, watching the sunset. It was right before dusk. First, it was like my heart ceased to beat, but I did not die. My vision went completely black, but I was still aware, I just went blind. Then I fell to my hands and knees because it felt like the air was pushing down around me. I started coughing, so hard there was blood. But then I threw up and I could see again, and the air felt lighter than ever. I stood and the sun had set and the stars were out. I must have been in that state for at least twenty minutes, but it only felt like two.” Saliea stopped and inhaled deeply, the skin of her white chest rising. Sam gawked at her.
“That something that was pulling for release, I think it succeeded in separating from me during those moments. What it was, where it went, what it did…I wish I fucking knew. Something is happening, and I don’t know if I’m just losing my fucking mind, or if the world is about to lose itself.” Saliea seemed exhausted suddenly and moved to sit on a bar stool next to the short counter. Sam remained silent but went to her and wrapped his arms around her.
“Maybe it’s just cancer or a tumor.” She attempted to lighten the mood.
“Shut up,” Sam said, letting his arms fall.
“Oh, and I killed Bob.”
“You did what? Poor armless, defenseless Bob?”
“Bloodless Bob. The trash-man picked him up a few days ago.”
Sam scoffed, plunging fingers through his hair. “I see. Rest in Peace, Bob.” He put an arm around Saliea and led her toward the front door. “I’ll go with you to work today.” He snatched some keys off the counter. “You hungry?” he asked. Saliea shook her head, standing from the stool.
“Let’s just go.” She slid out of his arm and pulled her layered hair back into a ponytail.
With a second’s resistance, the thick needle popped through the flesh. Saliea grabbed the jewelry off the side table with her latex-gloved hand. When she turned her attention back to the needle, blood was cascading down the tip and into the boy’s lap. She grinned and glanced up at his eyes to check for tears. They were fixed on the ceiling, but there were no tears.
“I got myself a bleeder.” She followed the butt of the needle with a ring and liberated the needle from his bottom lip. Before securing the ring with a ball, she dabbed at the bleeding hole with a cotton ball. A little bit of blood was typical, but his new piercing was dribbling. She popped the ball in place then stood and went to the sink. She wet a paper towel and tossed it to him.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, gently holding the towel to his swollen lip.
“My pleasure,” she responded genuinely, for it was her absolute pleasure. Even if he hadn’t reacted, she knew what she had done had caused him pain. Even if only mildly. She loved the moaners and the criers. Unfortunately today wasn’t the day for either. She’d pierced two tongues, a belly button, and now a lip. At least the latter had given her some blood. She needed to pierce some nipples. That always generated growling pain, except once. The guy had been a statue.
“Well, you’re done. Susan will get you at the register.” The boy nodded and stood. Drops of blood permeated the bottom of his navy t-shirt with a few on his baggy jeans. She thought about suggesting he go home and change. Instead she smiled to herself, and decided it would be more entertaining for someone else to point it out to him later after he’d been walking around town.
Saliea followed him out into the short hallway then proceeded to Sam’s studio. He was kicked back in a leather chair, his black and white Adidases propped up on the black granite countertop. A sketchpad rested in his lap, a pencil in his left hand. The page was empty and he stared out the window to his right, away from the door.
“Real productive today, I see.” She lounged on the door frame with her arms crossed. He didn’t startle out of his thoughts as she supposed he might. Instead he shrugged without looking away from the window.
“Not feeling so inspired, I guess. That one a crier?” He alluded to her last customer.
“Nah, but he was a bleeder.” Saliea stepped into the room and sat down on a stool next to him. “Better than nothing,” she sighed and propped an elbow on his shoulder and joined Sam in gazing out the window. It was quiet for a long time.
“You’re worried, aren’t you?” Saliea finally asked when he didn’t make a teasing comment to break the silence. He sighed softly, still not looking from the glass.
“Yeah, I am. I know you don’t want me to be, but I am.” He turned his attention to his sketchpad and started drawing aimlessly.
“What happens will happen, Sam. I’ll be fine. You know I don’t like it here anyway.”
; “I hate when you say shit like that, you know that.”
“Well, just telling it like it is, and you like when I do that.” She tugged on his short hair. Saliea hated when he fretted about her. He didn’t respond. “Why do you have to be so serious, maybe my disjointedness is finally about to make sense.” She gave up trying to lighten his mood. “And if you ask me, I’m looking forward to whatever is about to happen so you can stop worrying your pretty little head about it.”
His hand stopped and he turned abruptly to look up at her. Before Saliea knew what was happening, Sam’s lips were pressed to hers, his hand flew to her head to keep her from pulling away. And she didn’t try to immediately. Her heart jumped and she could feel blood rush to her face. After several long seconds, Saliea pulled away, gasping. She stood from the stool and twirled away from him, her fingers pressed to her mouth to still the throbbing.
“Why did you do that?” she asked, not turning. There was a short pause.
“Well, if what you say is true, then you’ll be gone soon. Getting myself a kiss seemed like a good idea,” he stated. Saliea spun around, not removing her hand. He wasn’t looking at her and continued his drawing as if nothing had happened.
“Oh,” was all she could manage. He glanced up at her and a wide, beautiful smile spread across his face. He breathed a light laugh.
“Saliea, you’re blushing.”
“Well, yeah! Any straight girl would blush if you kissed her.”
“But, I thought you didn’t like me like that.”
“I don’t! It doesn’t mean I’m not going to blush when you kiss me without asking.”
Sam laughed and stood, tossing his sketchbook on the counter before pulling Saliea to him in a tight hug. At that moment, adrenaline shot through Saliea’s veins and all of her muscles tightened, painfully so.