by Hubert Selby
the fury continuing to fill Bobby until he was almost blind, yet still knew where he was and where he was going, a knot of sickness forming in his gut, spreading slowly through his body, reaching up to his head, until he stopped at the edge of the roof across from Rauls apartment and stared at the people inside laughing and singing and drinking wine an he saw Raul pulling a new sweater over his head then prancing about the room like he was hot shit and Bobby stared, alert, swallowing down the sickness, his head pounding with adrenaline until he saw Raul putting on his jacket so he could go down to the streets and show his friends his new sweater and he was laughing and waving his hand, Yeah, Merry Christmas muthafucka, and Bobby put the plank he had stashed across the gap between the roofs, tested it, took a deep breath and crawled across to Rauls roof, then quietly down the stairs, and was waiting in the shadows, staring at the door, waiting for that first tiny sliver of light as it started to open. Bobby hugged the wall in the shadows away from Rauls line of vision when he would come through the door, unaware of breathing, unaware of taking the scarf from his neck and rapping the ends around his hands, not feeling the blood gorge through his body or the tension in his body, unaware of anything except the doorknob on Rauls door and the door jamb, all his senses focused, alert, and when he heard Rauls hand on the knob he dug deeper into the shadows and then there was the sliver of light, then a beam, then a shaft filled with loud voices, all laughing, laughing, and Raul was yelling back into the laughter, his face one huge, monstrous grin filling Bobbys body and mind with a sickening rage, yet he remained frozen until the door clicked shut and the instant Rauls hand slid off the knob Bobbys scarf was around his throat and Bobby yanked as hard as he could, wrapped a second turn around his throat, then dragged Raul to the staircase, not hearing the gurgling coming from Rauls mouth, avoiding his flailing arms and reaching hands, then slammed Rauls head against the staircase then quickly dragging him up the stairs to the roof, quietly closing the door, standing for a moment, feeling the throbbing in Rauls throat through the scarf, looking into his dazed, bulging eyes, looking as deeply as he could into the panic in those eyes, then dragging him to the edge of the roof and slamming his head into the side and letting Raul fall, gently, as he held his body suspended by the scarf, then releasing enough of the pressure as Raul lay on the ice to allow enough air into his lungs to keep him alive, he wasnt going to allow the son of a bitch to the that fast, no, the muthafucka goin to take some time, Bobbys own sweet time, jus like Maria had to take so long, so very, very long to die, and Bobby knelt over him, staring into his face, smiling, grinning, hearing the air fighting to get past Rauls throat as he gasped, spit and blood gurgling from his lips, Bobby staring, watching, grinning at the struggle until he could see Raul was reviving and knew who was grinning at him then tightened the scarf slightly and dragged him over the edge of the roof, forcing him to lay on the edge on his stomach and look down at the shit-covered ground, just as Bobby had done, locked one hand in the scarf and held Raul by the belt with the other, forcing Rauls head down in tiny little increments, rocking him back and forth, each time Raul going further and further over the edge until he could feel the silent screams in Rauls throat and head and body, then yanked him back and rolled him on his back on the edge of the roof, stamping hard on Rauls feet, keeping him clamped to the roof, silently grinning into Rauls face until he could feel his grin burning its way through Rauls flesh, through his bones, burning every part of his fucking brain, lowering his face until he was so close light could not pass between them, then jerked him over and suspended him over the edge again, his minds eye still filled with the look of panic, terror and pleading on Rauls face, yeah, plead, beg muthafucka, beg, you not even given Maria a chanct to beg, but you be beggin, dontchya, shoving him closer and closer to the point of no return, that point of delicate balance when all he would have to do is unwrap the scarf and Raul would slide nice and slow over the side, and Bobby looked down at the ground waiting for Raul and once again saw the huge monstrous mouths waiting, the hideous and grotesque blackness screaming, the stench of their breath burning his nostril, and Bobby started staring, fixed on the mouths, unable to break away, feeling himself devoured by their now grinning faces as they gleefully awaited the offering Bobby was giving them and suddenly something seem to snap in Bobby, he could hear it ringing through his head, whining louder and louder and he stiffened, his hands locked on the scarf, his body vibrating, the screaming, laughing demon mouth stench cutting off his breath, Rauls face turning blue, his eyes looking as if they would pop from his head, Bobbys body still trembling with the whine in his head….
then he suddenly yanked the scarf and Raul was on the roof, on his back, Bobby staring maniacally into Rauls face, Raul hanging limply, too weak to raise his hands to clutch at the scarf, air completely cut off, life sustained only by whatever air was left in his lungs, then Bobbys hands suddenly let go of the scarf and his body jerked back, unable to control his movements, powerless over his actions, air starting to scream itself down Rauls shattered throat, Raul still paralyzed with fear as he looked at the expression on Bobbys face, his features so distorted he didnt recognize him, but as he started to reach up to the scarf Bobby suddenly fell on his knees and grabbed the scarf and yanked it tight and pulled Rauls face close to his and spoke quietly but with such fierceness it burned into Rauls heart, We be through muthafucka. Jus dont ever be gettin close to me, yo hear—twisting the scarf harder, endless screams ripping through Rauls body yet never leaving his mouth—yo hear what I be sayin???? It be over….
Bobby suddenly jerked up and stood staring down at Raul, the crazed look on his face almost shattering Rauls bones…
then Bobby was gone, Raul continuing to stare at where Bobbys face had been, his mind and body filled and paralyzed by that demonic look until the cold air in his lungs and head revived him enough for him to roll over and get to his hands and knees and tremble spastically as the reality of what had happened slowly assaulted him.
Bobby was still unaware of what had happened, unaware of where he was, what he was doing, or even of who he was, moving totally and only on instinct as if he still had nothing to say, or do, about what was happening, and went back over the roof and down to the street, something inside of him screaming that he had to run…run…that he had to get away from wherever he was, unaware of turning corners, the people, the cars, only running as fast as possible, desperately trying to outrun the screaming in his head, until he suddenly collapsed and lay in the rubble of an empty lot just a short distance from Moishes cellar, laying on his back, his body twitching as he struggled to breathe, rolling over and curling in a fetal position still unaware of where he was, of what had happened, the icy ground under him, feeling only the screaming in his gut and lungs for air…until something within him suddenly fell apart and he rolled over on his back groaning as he became aware of his breathing, staring until he became aware of the cataract sky…who he was…then what had happened…and he started to cry as he heard his voice telling Raul its over…its over….
Moishe sat in his chair feeling the pounding of the silent clock, the incessant dirge of seconds passing, telling himself he was not hearing a clock that makes no sound, that Bobby wasnt gone too long, he was just talking with his brother and friends, after all, it is Christmas Eve, it is not really such a long time and maybe hed get up and get some ice cream, he could always have more when Bobby got home, it doesnt really mean anything if he should have a bowl of ice cream alone, can having a bowl of ice cream mean he doesnt believe Bobbys alright, that he wont come home…of course hes coming home…home…yes this is his home suddenly Moishe crumbled over as panic wrenched his gut, an involuntary groan agonizing itself through him and he had to struggle to breathe as he clutched himself bewildered, confused, struggling to understand what was happening as he struggled to breathe, trying to force himself erect as he almost fell from his chair, pushing harder and harder against the force that was pulling him down until he was suddenly thrust against the b
ack of the chair, his eyes bulging, clutching the arms of the chair, feeling himself moan as an all consuming terror stiffened his body and paralyzed his mind, a scream for mercy trying desperately to pass his lips, straining to get air in and words out, staring at the wall in front of him but seeing the train and the stares of death, hearing the wolves tearing frozen flesh from frozen bones, his knuckles white, hands blue from clutching the arms tighter and tighter, a band around his chest so tight his jaw fell as he gasped for air, his body twitching and jerking until a tomb-like plea came from beyond his being from the depths of hell….NOOOOOOOOOO
and Moishe suddenly collapsed in his chair, hands clutching his head, moaning, Bobby Bobby….
then shoved himself against the back of the chair and rocked back and forth, no no no…back and forth, no no no no…hanging locked in a limbo of torturous agony as not only the pain of the moment wrapped itself around him, but the misery of a lifetime tormented every cell and fiber of his being as image upon image assaulted him, images of Bobby laying dead in the streets, Karl-Heinz, Gertrude, the camp, the years, the years, over and over and over….
Oh please, please, no no no no
until tears flooded from his eyes, his voice mute yet the pleading continuing to sob through him, as he sat in his chair, clutching the arms, tears streaming down his face, tears of desolation and devastation, large, enormous, wet tears trembling over the banks of a lifetime of sadness and sorrow, grievous, grieving tears of despair flooding his world, his universe, bathing his anguish so he could breathe the next breath of life when he had no will to do so, the horror of the past in the midst of the crushing weight binding him to his chair, for a moment without thought, without hope, simply sustained by the river of tears, surrendered to his weeping, one with each and every tear and the pain they absorbed, the silent clock no longer ticking…the world no longer binding him. Moishe was simply the weeping and the tears.
Bobby walked slowly through the no mans land, the cold stinging. He reached to pull his scarf tighter around his neck, but it wasnt there. He stopped. A sudden emptiness weakened his legs and he staggered and fell to his knees, but quickly jerked up and spun around, then zipped up his jacket tight against his chin and continued walking, shoulders slumped, chin halfway to his chest, the sudden emptiness now filled with a ferocity that sought release from his eyes and he started crying.
He slowly descended the steps to the cellar, then gathered some cardboard and newspapers and sat on them and leaned against the wall, the same wall he had been leaning against when Moishe discovered him. He raised his knees and leaned on them with his arms then rested his head and closed his eyes yet still the tears flowed from his eyes, feeling at first warm on his cheeks then getting colder and colder as they rolled down, feeling like ice as they hit his hands…then it seemed to get brighter and he opened his eyes and blinked a few times expecting to see a light, but saw only the impenetrable darkness of the cellar, staring for a moment at the darkness, then slowly closed his eyes and again the light was there, brighter this time yet it did not hurt his eyes and again when he opened them he saw only the darkness and he shook with fear, yet could not keep his eyes open, they seemed to just want to close and he tried to squeeze the light away but it continued getting brighter and softer, and when he opened his eyes the darkness was filled with the image of him walking away from Raul and the hideous, faces and mouths mocking him as he crossed the roof and even though no sound came from the mouths, he knew they were calling him a punk and chicken shit mutha fucka and even within himself Bobby had no reply, no defense, and he pushed his forehead harder against his arms, squeezing his eyes tighter until they pained, terrified the demons would be replaced by Marias face, the face he could not get free of, the face he knew would now be weeping because Bobby had abandoned her to hell because he was a chicken shit punk muthafucka and her tears would burn into his head and heart and he could smell them already and see the smoke and he clutched tighter and tighter at his knees to keep her face away yet knowing that it would suddenly be there and he would have to watch Maria fall and splat against the cement, over and over, that she would just keep dying because he did not let her stop hurting by killing Raul and his body stiffened, spasmed until he screamed a long, torturous scream yet only a deep agonizing groan came out of his clenched mouth….
Bobby suddenly slammed his back and head against the wall over and over and over, forcing himself to reach down deep within to find the energy and will to fight through the pain and continue to pound and pound against the wall until he simply folded against his knees and pulled his hat down as hard as he could, then sat motionless until he found himself standing, swaying back and forth, then started walking through the darkness.
Moishe was still sitting in his chair when Bobby opened the door. He wanted to rush to Bobby, but his body would not move, nor could he speak, unable to do anything but stare and feel overwhelmed by the pain coming from Bobby, unable to be unaware of the tortured look on his face, making him look like a stranger yet he knew it was Bobby but unable to accept that he could have changed so much. For hours Moishe had sat in his chair waiting, hoping, praying that the door would open and Bobby would walk in, but now the sight of him was more terrifying than his absence. He wanted to know what had happened, but was more afraid of knowing. Bobby stopped for a second, but then started walking to his room, avoiding looking at Moishe, saying only, I lost your scarf.
Moishe stared at the empty space in front of him, then suddenly collapsed in his chair, folding into himself as if his bones had turned to jelly, grabbing his face with his hands as if he were trying to suffocate himself, as if he were trying to smother an enemy, his body convulsing as he was tormented with terror, as he had earlier in the evening, the pain of not knowing where Bobby was, the fear of what was happening, now seeming like a luxury as he clamped his hands tighter and tighter on his face trying to block out the image of Bobbys face, trying to deny the evidence of that image, desperately seeking some way not to believe that Bobby had done something that would destroy his life, trying desperately to believe his tears were relief and not panic, the tears burning into his hands and arms as they flowed from his eyes, poured from his heart and erupted from his soul, having no idea what was keeping him alive, how air was getting into his lungs, unable to will himself to breathe, all of his being a grieving mass of terror and agony, the absence of sound, even in his mind, so devastating it crushed and stabbed him until he felt a groan, a groan of blackness and despair twisting and grinding from some place so deep within him it seemed an eternity before it gagged and choked him and finally burst forth into his hands and his mind was momentarily shattered by memories, his nose seared with the stench, the rage and hatred, the endless hunger and cold, the burning, paralyzing cold, all the darkness of millions of hearts and minds and endless tormenting nights, always nights, the nights at sunrise, the nights at noon, nights, nights, the hollow, lifeless eyes O god those terrible living-death eyes, the blackened-hearts eyes, the breathing-dead eyes, eyes that stared with incomprehensible despair and burned their way into his brain whether his were opened or closed, awake or asleep, always the eyes….
O god, not again. No…not again. I survived those years, and I survived this night. Enough. No more…no more….
then faintly, ever so faintly there came the sound of the silent clock and Moishe was crushed by the unmoving hands.
Bobby sat on the edge of his bed wishing there were rats behind the wall he could torment, or smell the pissy diapers, or hear the screams from the streets and the buildings…punch a wall, get in someones face, something, anything tangible that would force him to move, to speak, to think, something, anything, to stop the images and feelings, the feelings he had no words for, the feelings that made him feel as if he were being butchered, the feelings that made him cringe and burn, that made his spine feel weak, the feelings that made him feel as if everyone knew something about him he didnt want them to know and they were all staring at him calling him a
pussy, the feelings that made him think if he could just suddenly turn around he would see hundreds, thousands of eyes looking at him with disgust, eyes that would spit on him, but he was unable to move, unable to find the energy to suddenly snap his head around, the feelings taking all his energy, O shit, if only he could scratch the wall and hear those ugly muthafuckas squeal and scratch but all he could do was sit and be overwhelmed with feelings, feelings vague and undefined, feelings twisting and tormenting him until he heard a groan come from his mouth and he was suddenly on the floor, his head hanging back against the bed….
Moishe was suddenly rigid in his chair, the thump of Bobby sliding to the floor sounding thunderous in his ears, clutching the arms even tighter and shoving his head against the back of the chair as if he were trying to avoid a sharp blade swinging back and forth just an inch from his face. For an endless moment he had no heartbeat, no breath, his eyes wide, staring at the blade swinging back and forth in front of him, not getting closer, but keeping him frozen in his chair….