by Quil Carter
And since there was no outlet to channel Sasha’s fury, it was internalized. The rage that was a rolling boil inside of him only grew in strength, each curse and thrash adding more hot steam. But little did Sasha know, the heat was lubricating not only his mouth… but his mind as well.
Right in the middle of Sasha’s insanity-laced screaming, one that had his face twisted in rage and his trembling body thrashing like a trapped feral cat, something happened.
Suddenly Kheva’s head snapped back and his eyes roll back into his head.
Then there was a white flash, and in front of Sasha’s mind was an image, one so vivid it was like a movie was being played.
It was a view from… under a bed. Sasha was looking at an ajar white door, and he was feeling terror. He was scared, scared that he would come tonight.
The boy didn’t want the man to come through that door. Anything. Anything but that. Bad things would happen. Terrible things. Things he couldn’t tell anyone about.
Then, like a hand had reached down to pluck him out of the vibrant vision, Sasha was thrown back into his reality.
Right in time for Kheva to smack him across the face.
“Get outside,” Kheva whispered. His tone was dangerous, and the glare he was giving Sasha, downright lethal. “Now.”
Sasha, his hand holding his burning cheek, stared at Kheva in shock and confusion, all of the anger he’d been feeling so potently… gone.
Then, purely out of fear, he turned around and fled to the balcony outside.
Sasha kicked a rock away and stabbed the ground with his shovel. He adjusted the kerchief that was on his head, damp now from the sweat that had been collecting on his brow, and lifted up the shovel full of dark brown dirt. He threw it into the wheelbarrow, then tested the length of the hole. It was difficult, and his work was slow and sloppy, but he kept stumbling from bouts of dizziness and it was a lot of work to even keep himself standing.
Two days had passed since the incident with Kheva, and four days since coming to Ciel Lake. He was now installing a new fence around what Kel had proudly told him was his own special garden, full of Kel’s favourite berries. Kel, apparently, was a berry-fiend and to sustain his need Kheva had allowed him his own small patch of land. According to Kel, this area was half strawberry plants, and the other half was a mix of blueberry plants and raspberry. There were also blackberry and huckleberry plants north along the treeline but since they grew wild they didn’t need any maintenance.
The morning after the incident, (after another restless night sleeping outdoors on the patio lounger), Kel had come out to inform him that he wasn’t welcome inside. Kel had done this on shifting feet, his eyes flickering in all directions, and it was obvious that this order had come from Kheva, and not him. This had made Sasha feel all the lower, and the fact that the man who literally fed him was pissed off at him, meant he wasn’t going to eat.
And he still hadn’t eaten.
Sasha leaned against the shovel and closed his eyes. He ignored the sound of a straw dodging ice cubes to suck up liquid, and tried to stop the world from spinning around him.
After a minute of rest, Sasha opened his eyes. He glanced over when he heard ice cubes rattling around a glass and saw Kel spinning the ice with his favourite pink curly straw.
It was a comical sight, and if Sasha didn’t feel like passing out he would’ve at least cracked a smile at it. Keluva Swift was relaxing rather lazily in a brown recliner he’d dragged out of a storage shed. He was laying in full recline with a pair of sunglasses on and a straw hat resting atop his head. Like a couple days ago, he was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, this one white with pink flowers of varying shades, and tan cargo pants. There was also a tall glass of lemonade in his hand, with several ice cubes, and of course, that damn pink curly straw.
Kel brought the straw to his matching pink lips, and Sasha watched as the straw’s colour became a darker shade from the liquid being suctioned. He could almost taste the sour tangy drink, just like last night he was sure if he closed his eyes, he could taste the steaks Kel had made for him and his master.
There was no point in asking, Sasha knew by now that asking ran the risk of pissing off Kel, and he was in enough shit as it was. He’d been drinking from the lake, so at least he didn’t have to add dehydration to his list of worries, but unless he wanted to eat some of the weird mushrooms he’d seen growing along the treeline, he was shit out of luck when it came to food.
Sasha put the fence post into the ground and began to cover it with dirt. The fence was to keep the deer out apparently, but from the antlers Sasha had seen above the chicken coop’s door and the generator shed, it seemed like their presence had added benefits.
He covered the post with dirt, and when he was done he found himself sinking to his knees from exhaustion.
And it was then he felt the first twinge of a headache.
“Shit,” Sasha whispered. He squinted his eyes shut and held a hand to his head. There was hope that perhaps it was from dehydration and the lack of food, but Sasha knew better. “Kel… can I get a drink from the lake?”
Sasha watched Kel for any signs of life. The man was laying still, the sunglasses preventing Sasha from seeing if he was awake or not. Sasha held back an exasperated sigh and winced when a throb of pain, this one behind his right eye, made its presence known. He couldn’t hold back the groan however, or the suppressed whine that followed.
Then Kel stirred. He put the curly straw to his mouth and took a small sip, then raised a hand and made the come here motion with his finger.
Well, anything but building a fence was welcome. Sasha leaned the shovel against the fence post and walked over to Kel.
“You’ve been good today, Sashy. Drink this,” Kel said with a smile. He handed Sasha the lemonade, half a glass left and the remaining ice cubes. “Go inside and get me some more lemonade. Bring out… frozen strawberries from the freezer too.”
Go inside? Sasha’s eyes shot to the two-storey house. The crimson curtains of the living room were wide open, but the glare of the sun was preventing him from seeing anything inside.
Kheva would be in his office, that’s where he usually was. What would he do if he caught Sasha inside? Would it even matter that Kel had ordered him to do it?
The hesitation held Sasha at mental gunpoint, but he knew he didn’t have a choice. Disobeying Kel right now wasn’t a good idea, and he was just too depressed and defeated to deal with the aftermath of making him mad––He just didn’t have it in him.
Sasha didn’t have much of anything in him anymore.
The headache continued to pulse behind Sasha’s eyes; not only did it seem like it had its own heartbeat, but its own song as well. It was like the beginning to a piece of music that no one wanted to hear… and it was only going to get worse.
And if I want to stand a chance of being able to recover using Kel’s blood, I need to fucking behave.
“Lemonade and freezer strawberries. Okay, Master Kel,” Sasha said, adding the last bit to butter up the nightcrawler. “I’ll be right back.” Kel flashed a sunny smile, and just before Sasha turned towards the door, he saw him pick up his straw hat, lean back in the recliner, and put it over his face. It looked like he planned on being there for a while, but this quick trip inside would lend Sasha a chance to at least eat some strawberries so he’d be able to handle another round of fence building.
Sasha crossed the yard and stepped onto the cedar deck. There was a small pleasure in the fact that he was temporarily in the shade; he’d been baking underneath the sun for hours and that was only adding to his growing headache. Oh, what he’d do to be able to sit in his dark apartment with the air conditioning on.
Four days… Sasha swallowed through the bulge in his throat. They must be worried fucking sick about me… absolutely sick.
To Sasha’s own shock and embarrassment, the end of that string of thought was satisfaction, not guilt like he’d assumed he’d find. There was smug joy knowing that Jobe and Lex
were worried about him; they should be punished for trying to take him away from his home. And not only that, throwing him in a place that they knew would stress him out and make him even more miserable. If they thought being in an institution would help him and not drive him further into misery and depression… they obviously didn’t know Sasha at all.
But when you got to the quick of it, Sasha knew that what he was feeling was just a by-product of feeling like garbage himself. The old adage was always true: Misery loved company, and the thought that Jobe and Lex were miserable like him, felt validating.
Well, it was what it was. Even though he dreamed of his apartment, Sasha knew that he’d never be allowed to stay there. The moment he came back, especially if he still had no physical proof of Kel and Kheva’s existence, he’d be restrained by the cops and thrown in the back of a white van with a straitjacket.
So… I don’t belong anywhere. Sasha’s throat tightened and he felt himself emotionally sink lower. Every time a new wave of sadness took him, he was sure this was rock bottom, but then life would surprise him with a whole new low and there he would drown further in his despair.
Feeling his spirits drag behind him like a dead dog, Sasha got to the sliding glass door and stepped inside.
He walked to the fridge and opened it, then stood in front of it for a solid minute just enjoying the cold against his hot, sweaty skin. It was the first shred of comfort that he’d felt in a long time.
Sasha decided to open the small chest freezer above the fridge. He dug out an ice cube and traced it along his neck, then shuddered when a shiver of pleasure went through him. The ice cube didn’t take long to melt though, but it was worth it. Today was one of the hottest days they’d had; it looked like summer was going to come early, even though it was only spring. At least this meant the nights would be warmer, so hopefully he’d sleep better. It had been chilly last night.
Sasha picked up the ice cube tray and a Ziploc bag of strawberries and closed the freezer door.
Kheva was standing right behind it.
“Whoa!” Sasha gasped. He sprung up into the air like a startled cat, and as he jumped, the tray of ice cubes fell down. They hit the floor with a clatter, cubes shooting off in all directions, the frozen strawberries soon joined them.
Sasha leaned down to pick up the strawberries, then changed his mind out of pure fear. He looked up instead, waiting to be hit or yelled at, but froze when he saw what was in Kheva’s hand.
It was a dead chicken. One of the ones that Kel had complained wasn’t laying eggs. Sasha had just fed her that morning.
“I’m… I’m s-sorry,” Sasha said, his words tumbling out of his mouth like they were falling down the stairs. He quickly picked up the strawberries, wincing as the headache gave a painful throb from his head being lowered.
“Why are you inside?” Kheva asked, his voice was calm and almost uninterested. It wasn’t in Kheva’s character to yell and curse at him, but it was also strange that he was this okay with Sasha being indoors.
“Kel asked me to get him a drink and some frozen strawberries,” Sasha said. And even though his head protested it, to the point where he was seeing flashes of light, he started picking up the fallen ice cubes. “Lemonade and frozen strawberries.”
Kheva’s eyes continued to watch Sasha’s every movement; the strange yet terrifying man barely blinking. There was something about Kheva that was so intimidating, without even opening his mouth he just gave off this air of being feared. And once he did open his mouth, and you heard those strong gravelly tones, any denial of this man’s power was thrown out the window.
Sasha was terrified of Kheva––fucking terrified––but he did respect him and there was something else inside of him that wanted to please him, to make him proud.
How fucked up was that?
“I see,” was Kheva’s reply. He turned and walked to the granite kitchen island, and Sasha found himself dropping the ice cubes into the sink and following his footsteps.
Then there was a flutter of brown feathers. The chicken that Sasha was so sure was dead, came back to life and flapped her wings in a desperate attempt to break free of the man who held her.
Kheva’s hand shot up and grabbed her neck, then he slammed the bird down on a wooden cutting board. The bird gave a shrill cry and her wings beat the air, loose feathers flying up from the panicked movements.
Then Kheva’s eyes narrowed and Sasha saw his knuckles become white as he squeezed the bird’s neck; the chicken’s fearful clucking soon stopped, and her wings slowed to twitching jolts.
Sasha felt a shiver crawl up his spine. He couldn’t help but watch what was happening in front of him, and even went as far as to walk closer so he could get a better view.
And as he approached Kheva, he heard the man whisper to the bird. “Shh… shh,” he quietly soothed. And even though Kheva’s eyes were looking towards the living room, they were disconnected and gone, like the man was seeing only what was in his head.
What was he seeing?
Kheva, with one hand pinning the bird, pulled open a drawer beside his left leg…
… and retrieved a meat cleaver.
“Oh, fuck,” Sasha moaned, not realizing he’d said it out loud. He took a step back and witnessed Kheva stroking the chicken’s comb back, humming softly.
“Shouldn’t… you do that outside?” Sasha asked nervously.
Kheva shook his head. He looked behind his shoulder and Sasha did too. Jye was standing in front of the sliding glass door, his copper eyes shining in anticipation and his body braced and waiting. The cat knew what was going to happen and he was ready.
“But, Master…”
Then, in one fluid motion, Kheva raised the meat cleaver and brought it down onto the chicken’s head. Sasha jumped back with a surprised gasp, and the kitchen suddenly filled with activity. The chicken was flapping wildly, feathers bursting from the bird and floating high up into the air from the wings beating the air. And the blood, there was more than Sasha thought there’d be. Spurts of it were shooting from the stump, squirting with impressive pressure from the bird’s neck. The force behind the ejection had the shots clearing the kitchen island, some even landing on the grizzly bear rug ten feet away, the taxidermy beast looking as if it was experiencing its second death.
But even though there were many things to watch, Sasha’s attention turned solely to Kheva. The master of the nightcrawlers was standing, unmoving, in front of the kitchen island, the blood-stained cleaver embedded in the cutting board.
Kheva was smiling as he watched the headless bird desperately try to break free of the grip that restrained her. It was a morbid smile, a lurid outward expression of joy that was best kept hidden in the darkness. A smile born from the most nefarious of origins, one that told Sasha that if he was to peel back that physical display of happiness, he’d find things that would make his current nightmares seem like an excerpt from a children’s book.
The energy behind the chicken’s flapping wings began to weaken, before finally her body succumbed to death. Kheva put the dead bird’s corpse onto the counter top, then caressed the brown feathers with that same creepy smile.
Sasha realized he was shaking, and bad. He steadied himself on the counter beside the kitchen sink, his breathing quick, and watched Kheva as the man, who Sasha was quickly realizing was probably a psychopath, rested the cleaver beside the chicken’s severed head with a faint clink. The bird’s yellow eye was wide open and staring, and as Sasha stared back, he could see a milky film begin to cloud the vivid ocular.
There was no other noise but Sasha’s laboured breathing, not even the damn serval was making noise; Jye was now in the living room, lapping the blood that had painted the hardwood floors.
Finally, Kheva moved. He picked up the bird’s head and threw it to the serval. Jye, seemingly waiting for this reward, sprung up into the air on his long golden legs and caught the head in his jaws. He landed lightly on the ground, then trotted to the coffee table where
he laid down. Sasha cringed when he heard the first crunch of bones being crushed by those powerful jaws.
Sasha looked back to the kitchen just in time to see Kheva step through the open glass door and onto the porch. Since Sasha wasn’t allowed inside, he decided to follow behind him.
Kheva walked to the back of the house. There was about thirty-feet of trimmed dark green grass before a modest incline led you to the lake, and in the middle of the park-like setting, was a picnic table stained dark brown, and on top of the table, a camper’s stove which held a large steaming metal pot.
Sasha stuffed his hands into his pockets as he trailed behind Kheva at a safe distance, his tongue moving around his mouth as he contemplated how he was going to word what his mind was urging him to say.
Perhaps Kheva had tuned himself into his thoughts and Sasha wouldn’t have to say anything? But when he pushed the thought forward and focused on it, Kheva did nothing to show he’d heard. The man wasn’t even paying attention to Sasha; he was dipping the carcass into the boiling water. It looked like chicken was their dinner tonight, and though the process of making such food had turned Sasha’s stomach, the hunger that was gnawing away at him was stronger than the nausea.
And not just hunger was pushing him to engage Kheva, someone he’d been avoiding for almost two days purely out of fear, it was a need… one that Sasha wasn’t ready to admit he had… to have this powerful master’s acceptance.
Even if it wasn’t acceptance… he just needed something. The only thing this place had done, was raise his spirits, his hope of being understood, then bring them crashing down to earth; the force behind their descent driving them deep into the earth’s crust, past the mantle, to the liquid magma that burned mercilessly below the surface.
Sasha had never felt suicidal before, but over the past several days the option of death was beginning to make itself known.