Caesar called me gnat, a pesky little fly that wouldn’t go away no matter how many times you swat at it. He was right. I am not going to die here, I am going to get up and run. When I do, I am going to tell the world about this sick place and what they do. I sleep for a long time, thinking about running away. It won’t be hard to leave, they will look for me. Or will they? I don’t know if any of them even care.
I wake to a soft voice talking to me gently. “Juan? Juan are you alright?” My body moves softly as she pushes against me to see if I am alive. My eyes open. Even the dull light up here blinds me, making spots appear in my eyes. When they clear up, Svetlana is kneeling next to my bed, her eyes wide with worry. She cannot possibly care about me. “Juan, are you alright? You haven’t moved since yesterday.” She pokes at my side. “I thought you were dead in here.” I am dead in here. I was left for fucking dead!
“I’m fine, where is Mateo?” I ask, mostly out of fear that he will come kill me.
“Working downstairs, he said they are busy today and Caesar hasn’t come back.” She helps me up so that I am sitting. She has brought water and food up for me. I don’t think I can swallow, just talking hurts so much I want to cry. Caesar hasn’t come back.
“Did you know?” I ask her, the things he told me still turning my insides.
“Did I know what, Juan? I don’t know many things,” she answers, handing me a glass of cool water. It hurts like hell as I swallow, but at the same time soothes my throat.
“Did he tell you that he is your father?” The glass crashes from her hand to the floor.
“He is not my father. Pavel was my father. Don’t speak lies to me. Why would you say that?” Her voice waivers with doubt as she thinks about it a little longer.
“Because he told me so as he tried to kill me after he fucked you.” My words are malicious now, I want to hurt them all. “You drove him crazy, you made him fuck you so he tried to kill me.” I keep going as I watch her start to pull her hair and the mumbles are coming from her mouth. “You begged your own father to fuck you! You are all fucking sick.” I sit up because I am leaving now after I say this, I am going to walk out and never come back. “Your sweet lover, Mateo, is your cousin, little Lettie.” I slip my shoes on, I may be weak but I am strong enough to leave. Caesar was true to his word and paid me. I have enough money to go home. While she whimpers, curses and dissolves in the fucked up truth I just fed her, I pack my few things, shove my money in my pocket and walk out.
The air outside is fresh and I love how it feels in my lungs. Not one person batted an eye as I walked out, they are all too busy harvesting today. I rub my hands over my arms and walk a short way to the subway. A few train stops and a bus ride later, I knock on my mother’s front door. I am not the boy that ran away over a year ago. That boy is dead, but this boy is home. Her arms wrap around me and I feel her tears through my shirt and I wonder why on Earth I ever left?
Svetlana
Drowning in my sorrow, suffocating in my pain.
Enveloped by a cloud of black, disgusting disdain.
Fighting off images of what will never be.
The merciless persona that people call me.
Shroud me in your toxic love, make it go away.
Lead me into temptation, clothe me in dismay.
Endless reveries are a mirroring image of what I crave.
The lost little girl you see can never be saved.
I am not the kind of girl that says no when something normal is before me. The way Mateo looked at me, the feeling of his beating heart under my sweaty palm made my belly stir to life all while Caesar, my first love, continued his delicious assault on my breasts with those rough hands of his. Oh, his hands, how they will forever be engrained into the deepest ruts of my brain.
But he left. Caesar abandoned me and Mateo to ourselves as we fell prey to the demons of lust. Ah, how luscious that lust was. Part of my heart feels wronged by it all, but how can it say no to something that doesn’t hurt? For once in my life I wasn’t raped, beaten, or left to be eaten alive. My body was praised as every inch of my soul was breathed in by a man that refused to acknowledge the beauty of life before me. But he chose the wonder of my life. Me. Svetlana, the black sheep of Hunts Point who some truck drivers shooed away, but Mateo wanted me. Caesar used to need me when solid words spilled from his tongue. False promises of hope and love that didn’t or would never exist.
Abandoned. Emptied out. Tossed aside. A part of my soul feels detached as I look to my naked self in the bathroom, recollecting on the encounter that I had with Mateo. I want to be loved, but by both of them? Is that wrong? Of course it is! That is his uncle! I cannot have both of their hearts in my hand to clutch softy to mine. To caress with the clean adoration that I know I can provide. My open hands have so much to offer. They aren’t stained with blood or nasty lives taken. No, I am a pure whore, tainted by a monster himself. I think I may have found my redemption, but wanting two lovers is a crime.
Caesar hasn’t been to see me since. From the time since, Mateo hasn’t left my side. Is that what real lovers do? I wouldn’t even know how real people act, because I haven’t been subjected to them, being inferior and frightened of such a world. Righteous, merciful creatures don’t exist. Not until now at least. My saviors hold my hearts in their hands too, though their hands may be more tainted in their eyes. But they are good, worthy men. I see it in their looks. It’s a familiar kind of safety that makes me feel like a home that I never had.
Home. This is my home now. The conversation I am having with myself continues to transpire as my hand cups my bare breast. I study myself closely in the mirror, noting how much different I look since arriving here. Time has never meant a whole lot to me. It still doesn’t. I suppose when you are a stranger to the meaning of existence, the passing of days seems insignificant. Now, I find myself wanting to absorb every second, because my days are filled with interesting, decent things.
My nipples are sore, but the good kind of tenderness. I continue to look at myself, remembrances still flooding my buzzing brain. I smile at myself, still unsure of the girl who is being birthed right now. It doesn’t make much sense to me as I study my smile. Pink lips outline my teeth, which are slightly crooked on the bottom. But, my dentition is in good condition considering how I have lived my life. My grin grows wider at the thought of where I stand, on two feet as I contemplate being taken by two lovers.
To find love once is but a dream. To feel love twice is paradise.
The sharp talons I try to forget about, dig themselves deep inside of my gut while I continue to pick apart the girl in front of me. It’s as if I am trying to get to know someone unfamiliar. I have lived in this body for seventeen, almost eighteen years, but I didn’t even know who I was until now. Until him, my salvation, the man that saved me from the fires of hell. But he is gone and a sliver of my confused heart still yearns for him. I don’t think Mateo would like that much if I loved him too.
Caesar wanted me to love him, though. I try to re-arrange the puzzle pieces in my mind, shoving away the complicated ones and putting the smooth edged ones first, but just as I think I have figured things out; nothingness is the result. Love doesn’t just sweep girls like me off their feet. No. It knocks the wind from your lungs. Tears your soul from your chest and removes your heart, giving it to the person whom it belongs to. My heart is cut in two as I come to terms with the knowledge that I love them both.
I turn my neck slightly, admiring the mark made by my newest lover, Mateo. The softness of his lips grew needier by the second as he whispered how warm and delicious my skin tasted. How the beauty of life was too great for him to bear; he had to take me again after the first time we made love, refusing my pleas to allow me to use the restroom. He needed me and had to have me. Lovers kiss their lovers when in need, right?
So, I let Mateo take me from behind, desperately clenching onto my bladder as the threat of an orgasm tugged deeply in my womb. He knew what he was doing to me, pushing h
arder as his hand snaked around my belly to put more pressure on my lower stomach. Before I could understand what was happening, a gush came out of me, staining him as I came and pissed myself simultaneously. It was embarrassing and too much to take in. I became weightless, drunk on the idea of being worshipped, but I was also humiliated and relieved as my bladder had finally let itself go. Pissing myself was horrifying, but he didn’t make a mockery of it.
I have a moment to myself, which hasn’t happened since the first time Mateo and I had sex. I feel different. Changed. Stronger. Maybe my life is turning over a new leaf. The difference I want to make in life isn’t this, but maybe this is a start. I find myself smiling again, but still unsure as something still lurks in the depths of my mind. Part of me will remain battered, that won’t ever go away. Wounds may heal, but memories will never be forgotten. I wish I could hate the world and lose faith, but I don’t. Not yet at least.
The inner dialogue and contemplation I am having with myself is causing a headache. I dismiss it and turn to take a shower, sitting beneath the delightful warm drops of water. I wash my hair and body, careful between my thighs because I am sore. It is a gentle reminder of who was there, Mateo, a man that is so mysterious, yet he has fallen for me to crack open his heart to release his demons. I guess I am not the only one who is hoping for more. For something decent.
For love.
After rinsing myself free from the suds, I dry myself and dress in black cotton pants and a simple black, fitted T-shirt. Being clean is still new. The softness of my skin is a luxury I never thought I would feel. I find myself staring down at my fingernails, in awe that there isn’t dirt and grime caked beneath them anymore. Fresh clothes are a delicacy that I have come to embrace. The feeling of the cotton on my skin makes me smile, and I can’t bring myself to think that it’s real most days. I don’t bother with a bra or underwear because they were never something I was accustomed to wearing before. I decide to check on Juan. No one talks to him much, and when they do, they aren’t that nice. It makes me sad because the look that he has on his face most days is too familiar. He just wants to feel loved too.
I walk to Juan’s room and find him lying in the same spot as he was the day before. I look closely to see if he is breathing. Thank fuck he is. I wake him gently, knowing he needs some food and water. He seems confused by this act, but I offer it to him anyway. Something in his gaze is changed. He appears angry, put off, and maybe a bit disgusted. I came in to help, but somehow I feel like an unwelcome guest.
“Did you know?” he spits.
“Did I know what? I don’t know many things, Juan.” My heart is squeezing itself tightly and the uncomfortable feeling I thought I had ridded myself from is slowly crippling me as I stare into Juan’s black eyes.
They scream hatred.
“Did he tell you that he is your father?” he bites.
I drop the glass onto the floor as my world is agonizingly caving in on me. The little made up world that I created is collapsing as I face the end of something that was never even real. Real love doesn’t exist. Real people don’t exist. My two feet never really touched the ground. The air leaves my lungs as breathing becomes difficult. Being alive is a chore while my brain feels like it will swell out of my head from too goddamn much. I shake my head no, fighting back tears that feel like the sharpest razorblades. Vomit rises quickly in my throat. It can’t be true.
“He is not my father. Pavel was my father. Don’t speak lies to me. Why would you say that?” I return, surprising myself that the blinding uncertainty allowed me to speak.
“Because he told me so as he tried to kill me after he had fucked you,” he seethes.
I want to put my hands over my ears and run away. Throw myself in front of a bus because my entire life has been made up of two things that don’t matter.
Hatred and lies.
“You drove him crazy, you made him fuck you so he tried to kill me. You begged your father to fuck you. Your sweet lover, Mateo, is your cousin, little Lettie.”
His voice is like a shameful shroud, hugging me tightly in a poisonous embrace. Coldness finds me again as I fall quickly down a void of broken lives and black hearts. I hate myself. I want to die. Growing despondency threatens to choke me as my throat burns and aches, begging to take a breath that I don’t want to give my body. Make me cold. Make me like the dead girls that Mateo loves so much. I need freedom now. Fly away from this. This is all my fault.
I dissolve into nothing, screaming out in agony. A psychotic fit fills me, breaking me into a trillion tiny shards that will never be put back together again. I lived in a dream that never was worthy of becoming a reality. I need to kill myself. I want to burn, burn in the fire. Let me die. I am ready to murder myself. Red, hot tears mark my face and I stand on unsteady feet. Juan is already forgotten, as I lean my head back while extending my arms out secretly praying to God, fearing that He is a made-up man that doesn’t exist. Feed me your holy water and wine. Make me worthy again or throw me to the pits of fucking hell. Just absolve me from this life, I pray to you, God!
My silent prayers go unspoken because words don’t happen when you cry out in misery. Pain prickles over every inch of skin that clothes the worthless girl I am. I start clawing at myself, trying to rid myself from it. I am a dirty, disgusting, worthless cunt. Bring me to the sun and make me a Phoenix. Give me wings and let me burn in your glory, God! I beg you!
Prayers are for the weak. Weak people still have hope. I need to let that go. Yes, that is what I will do. Cut the strings to a nonexistent virtue away and let the pieces float on in the wind to fuck up someone else’s perception.
Scratch, scratch, scratch!
Warm blood oozes from my skin, slowing my cries as I understand I am closer to death as the crimson liquid greets me.
Hit, smack, smack!
I want to let go! Let me die!
I run back up to my room out of habit, hoping that Mateo left something that I can to push to my wrists. Goodbye, a word that I have wanted. A place that I have craved to visit for so long now. Not like this, but impoverished dirty princesses never get the ending that they wish for. Never mind that, we don’t get the ones that we deserve.
Consider this what I deserve.
I enter my room, breathless and slam the door shut. I yell out in unbearable agony once more, turning around to face the metal door. I hit my head to the metal, appreciating the cold discomfort on my skull.
Hit, hit, hit, crack!
Blackness. Life, you were terrible. Love, you weren’t real.
Mateo
Mary had a little lamb, its heart was black as coal, everywhere that
Mary went that lamb was forced to follow. It followed her to hell one day, hell one day. It was against the rules.
My uncle had many secrets, but none from me. When he put Ophelia’s body in his incinerator to save me from prison and my aunts, I became his partner. I became a part of all of this, I had to learn about his misophonia so he didn’t go off in a noise-induced rage and kill me. No whispers, no soft voices or music. Absolutely no crying, and God help you if you sniff. Lettie has changed him, it was in their lust-filled eyes I saw the resemblance and realized the dirty truth. He did a disgusting thing being with her, but I want her and he played right into my hands. I haven’t seen him since he forced my hand yesterday. Juan says he is gone. I guess he is home, hiding in his soundproofed haven, drinking and smoking his guilt. He has hidden away before, I must simply keep the cogs turning and make sure that the business is taken care of. So I do, we have a harvest today and he hasn’t returned.
I have not left the building since yesterday morning, before all of this chaos crept into my life. Chaos that threatens to disrupt the balance I had so carefully constructed to protect myself. I let a smile creep onto my face; I am fucking smiling. I stole her from him. She is mine, her whispers drove him crazy so I could have her. My mind lingers on her eyes and how they shimmer with life. I want to go get her right now, but I need t
o work first. I remind myself that she is upstairs and won’t go anywhere, she cannot leave me. She won’t leave me. Will she? I humiliated her, I made her piss herself, is she angry? Will she run because I did that? It was so empowering to have that control over her, a living breathing person who did nothing to stop me. As I walk through the beds of the bodies I have loved, the need to claim them has dulled a little. Her life has made me want things. Her pink lips and beating heart have broken me and I am falling apart. I knew he was her father, I knew it as I watched them come undone before me, I knew he was carrying a guilt deep inside himself. What I will never know is why on earth he has waited so long to save her, why he let her die with Pavel for so long. Stupid old man. This secret he kept too well. The beeping machines surround me as I look for the number that matches the papers I am mindlessly holding, everything seeming to have disappeared around me. My mind is on her and nothing else. I want her. I want to cling to her so she cannot leave me. I should have made her come down here with me. She should be here. No, she wanted to see if Juan was alright, to feed him. I am not sure how she can care after all she has lived, but she does. The boy just pokes at a part of me that I am afraid of, a part that would kill Lettie, a part that I am fighting so hard to put aside for her.
I focus on doing the job, saying goodbye to the girl with no name as she goes into the theater, waiting for the parts we need to fill the coolers and dispatching them. Caesar’s absence is heavy on me as I take the dead body, disemboweled and chopped to pieces, down to the burners. I have only had to do this a few times, as the smell is unbearable and the heat suffocates me. The blue linens cover her from my eyes, as they are a mess after. I only looked once and it was enough. I heave her onto the conveyor and flick the switch. Goodbye. He would have said it. I can’t, I just think it. As I turn to leave my boot kicks something and the sound of metal skittering across the floor catches my attention. The shiny object stops against the door and when I bend down, I have a sick feeling in me; Caesar’s lighter lies on the floor. The lighter he was never without. He hasn’t been down here, so it is out of place. I turn around as the conveyer shuts off automatically. Slipping the cold cigarette lighter into my pocket and go to find her. I need to make sure she hasn’t left. I can’t let her leave. I need to make her stay, she has to stay. I want to kiss her and feel her again. I need to remind myself of her so I don’t need them anymore.
The Goodbye Man (Red Market #1) Page 18