Rive_Little Mermaid Retold

by Daniela Jackson

  My hands claw at his cut as he is about to step out of the house.

  “Pro-mi-sse,” I cry out.

  Axel turns to me and cups my face in both his hands.

  “Pro-mi-sse.”

  “Calm down, baby, message received.”

  His face lights up like never before and his lips press against mine. I throw my arms around his neck and hang myself on him.

  Axel grasps my waist, lifting me off the ground, and my thighs wrap around his hips. My mouth opens wider as his tongue punishes me.

  I feel a hard shape digging in my inner thigh. I know what that is—a gun. But it doesn’t matter. I only want Axel to come back to me.

  I kiss him frantically like it is our last kiss. But I know it isn’t. It can’t be. I will wait for him and he’ll be back in a few days.

  “I-I wwill waitt.”

  “Don’t think too much, okay? Think of how much I love you.”

  “I-I lovve yyou.”

  “I know; I love you more.” His arms crush my form and he sinks his fingers into my hair, gathering half of it.

  My lips search for his again and it’s like we can’t stop kissing. Because it will hurt like hell when we stop.

  “I have to go,” Axel says and plants me on the ground.

  “Pro-mi-sse. Lovve yyou.”

  He kisses my forehead and walks off. I hear the roar of his bike and turn back. Amanda is standing in the doorway.

  “Why so much drama?” She rolls her eyes. “He loves you, you love him. It’s that simple.”

  “Itt’s nott.”

  “Ya know, you are a tough little bitch. An outlaw like him. He must have sensed you with his sixth sense.”

  My eyebrows raise a notch at her.

  “Yes, you.” Amanda smirks. “Every like loves his like. It’s, ya know, funny when I look at you together. You are a pretty little outlaw. My son just hasn’t realised that yet.”

  I don’t know whether I should feel proud of myself or offended by her comment.

  Chapter 21

  Axel

  An hour passes like a second, and I can’t recall my way. Sive is waiting for me in my house. That’s all that matters to me. Maybe one day she will even accept my dark side. I want to tell her everything. Not now, but one day.

  Now I have a job to do. It must be precise and without any complications, because my little mermaid is waiting for me.

  I begin to hunt my prey from checking in a filthy hotel situated in the worst area of the city. Fernando Espina, my target is a roach who forgot not to mess up with the big fish. I stretch out on the bed and look through the photos and brief information Kolya enclosed for me.

  The bedding smells of damp and the cracks in the ceiling resemble a cobweb. A sad flowery curtain waves as the air drifts inside through the narrow window. A thought courses through my head. I don’t want to kill more people. Maybe I would even want to live like Mac, to share everything with Sive, to have a simple lazy life. Do I need so much money? Do I need the thrill of living on the edge? And most importantly, do I have any choice?

  The photos float to the floor with a rustle and I roll on my side, closing my eyes. Then I drop off to sleep.

  For two days, I circle around my prey like a wild cat would hunt a gazelle, learning his habits, and getting closer and closer to him.

  He’s an absolute scum, but has a wife, a son, and a devastated house. I know that his family will only benefit if I off him. His wife has large bruises on her back. His son is scared of him.

  Yet I can’t shake off this uneasy thought that I’m no better than him. It’s all because of Sive. She made me question my life.

  On the third day, I steal a car, approach Fernando as he walks out through the back door of a bar and put a bullet in the back of his skull. He lets out a sigh then collapses on the ground and foam tinted with red escapes his mouth. A stream of dark blood forms a pond around his head. I feel nothing as I haul the body towards the car and throw it into the trunk. The dick is heavy. It pisses me off. Looking over my shoulder to check whether nobody has noticed the murder, I settle myself into the driver’s seat. The car shoots forward.

  I dispose of the body where nobody can find it for a very long time—in a rubbish dump. I’m not a person, just a cold instinct. I will be a person when I return to Sive.

  So far, everything has gone smoothly. I rub my hands against my jeans as my eyes roam over the rubbish heaps. It’s done. Finito. I’m really good at getting rid of human trash.

  But there are complications. Two young gangsters looking twenty at most are interested in my bike parked at the back of the hotel.

  It’s late in the evening. The sun has just drowned below the red horizon and putrid smells hang in the air.

  Through the window ajar, the sound of a couple fucking drifts to my ears as I stand with my feet apart and stare at the two wannabe thugs who threaten me with the knives in their hands.

  “Get lost,” I say. “And nobody will get hurt.”

  One of them steps closer to me. His brown eyes slide over me like there is no soul inside him as he lunges the knife at me. I dodge his thrust and slam my fists into his back, knocking him down but the other attacker runs his knife across the side of my chest. The blade penetrates through my clothes and leaves a deep cut. I fling myself to the side and the boys circle around me like two hyenas would circle around a dead elephant.

  “I’m warning you for the last time,” I say. “Get lost.”

  The gangster with cold blue eyes chuckles. “Dat old cunt be talkin' ta us.”

  They hop around me like two monkeys. I fix my eyes on the brown-eyed guy and leap towards him, gripping his wrist and twisting his arm up. The sound of his bone breaking tears at the air as his knife clinks against the asphalt. He squalls like a chick. I sweep his body and throw him at the other gangster. He dodges his mate who rolls on the ground and curls up into a ball.

  A burning sensation spreads across my back as I dodge the blue-eyed gangster. Fuck, I’m getting old. And slow. I turn around and swerve, avoiding his thrusts but he manages to leave a cut on my right cheek.

  I’m a bit dizzy because my wounds are bleeding heavily. A thin fog obscures my eyes. The brown-eyed gangster is moaning like an old woman, and I try to find an imperfection in my opponent’s movements. He is good. But I’m better.

  I expose myself, let him cut my thigh, then punch him in the side of his chest, knocking the air out of his lungs. He huffs and I deliver a thrust into his abdomen. He falls to his knees as I sweep my leg and kick him in the face. That will do.

  One of them has an open fracture and the prospect of surgical repositioning. The other will need a maxillofacial surgeon. His face is changed forever.

  I don’t care. They started the fight not me.

  I shuffle to my bike and settle myself on it, starting the engine. Then I go to my Sive.

  The whole journey is like a black hole in my mind.

  My first conscious thought is that Sive is leaning over me and trying to lift me. Her fingers dig in my arms. I realise that I’m on all fours in my own kitchen. The red smudges of my blood stretch across the floor and Sive growls with fury at me. Her face resembles that of a corpse. I blink as the light irritates my eyes.

  “Call Ma, baby. She will know what to do.” I twist my body, sit and lean against the cupboard with my legs splayed. “No hospital, Sive. I mean it. No. Fucking. Hospital.”

  Sive sits on her heels between my bent knees and sinks her fingers into my hair, then gathers it and pulls down. It hurts like hell as she turns my head. Her eyes flick over my cheek.

  “I’m fine, baby, don’t worry.” There is more and more of a grey fog in my head.

  Sive removes my cut, tossing it behind her, and pulls my t-shirt over my head. Her hands wander on my body as she turns me and examines the wounds on my back. “I-I cann sttitch upp a woundd.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Nno.” The coldness of her voice pierces me li
ke an icicle.

  She scrambles to her feet and explores the cupboards, then returns with the surgical needles, absorbable suturing material and a bottle of vodka. I always keep some surgical needles and threads in case I need stitching. Zane and Ma look after my wounds like professionals.

  “A-mman-da,” Sive says.

  “Ma’s shown you everything? That’s brilliant, baby.”

  Sive nods and pours some vodka onto a piece of gauze. She disinfects the cut on the side of my chest as I hiss in pain and tear the bottle from her hand, taking a decent sip. A real fire goes down my gullet as I watch her preparing the needle for stitching up. The strap of her nightdress lowers, exposing her right breast, but she’s not aware of that. And I’m not going to enlighten her. I’ve never seen anything more arousing in my life than my woman dealing with my wounds, covered in my blood, and focused on her task.

  She moves to the side and starts stitching up. It burns like hell, but her fingers work expertly like she has been doing that for many years.

  I take a regular anaesthesia, sipping my vodka, whilst Sive is sitting, cross-legged, and continues with the suture. My mind blurs and sharpens alternately like a chain of flashing images and pauses of blackness, and I notice that now Sive is behind me, working on my other wound.

  “I love you,” I say. “I love you so much that I will kill everybody who even thinks about taking you from me. Can you hear me? And I fucking love you even more.”

  “Shutt upp.”

  The needle pierces my skin, but with all the vodka flowing in my veins, it’s just a slight stinging to me. Ants bite like this.

  “When you finish, I’ll fuck you in the ass. You’ll like it, baby.”

  Sive moves to face me. Even though I’m drunk, her rigid glance sends freeze into my veins. She tilts her head and watches me in silence. And she’s not my Sive. Something about her is different. She’s a woman with cold eyes, completely aloof, a stranger even. An eerie power radiates from within her, but I want her even more. I want to dominate her.

  “You are so beautiful,” I say.

  I’m really drunk. Sive chuckles and inspects the cut on my cheek, then holds another needle and works on the suture.

  “Do you want such an ugly monster like me?” I ask and want to scold myself. I’m too honest. It’s dangerous.

  Sive growls at me and holds my chin between her thumb and forefinger, correcting the position of my face. The cut needs only four stitches.

  My mind is hazier and hazier. The world starts spinning around me, and I feel Sive’s tiny hands squeeze my shoulders. I think I’m crawling towards my bed, but there is too much of the fog in my head to be certain. Then there is only blackness.

  Pain wakes me up. It’s burning like a real fire has seized my back and face. It comes in pulsating waves, growing in strength. I tumble out of the bed and my eyes scan my body. I’m wearing the pyjama pants and my wounds are dressed.

  “Sive,” I say in a hoarse voice, but nobody answers me.

  She is not in the bedroom. Looking through the window, I notice that the sun is at its highest point.

  I walk towards the stairs, every muscle of my body contracting with agony, my throat dry like I haven’t drunk anything for weeks. My breathing accelerates as dizziness fills my head. Every step is a challenge for me.

  As I stop at the bottom of the stairs, my eyes travel to Ma sitting at the table with my favourite mug in her hand.

  “How are you, sweetie?” she asks.

  “Where is Sive?” I rasp.

  An eerie energy wafts through me. It feels like a wind has swept among the molecules of my body. Something is going to change dramatically in my life. I just fucking know that.

  Ma shakes her head and flashes me a warm smile. “Calm down. Boulder took her to the ‘Jilly Jet’. She wanted to give Blaze her drawings. And also the fridge needed some supplies. They will be back in an hour or so. Don’t worry, you lover-boy.”

  I collapse into the couch as Ma rinses her mug under the tap and she approaches me, then unfolds every dressing.

  “Sive’s talented little fingers,” she says with amazement. “Perfect. Very neat. She learns new things so fast, ya know.”

  “She is smart.”

  Ma brings me some painkillers and a glass of water. “Take them.”

  I swallow two pills and wash them down.

  “She is very smart indeed,” Ma continues. “I have those Mensa books—“

  “Yeah, you wanted to check Zane and me; I remember.”

  “You both refused it. So I checked Sive. Her IQ is one hundred and forty-two.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that you are too stupid for her, sweetie. No offence. She reads in three languages. Did you know about it?”

  Uneasiness stirs inside me. “No.”

  “She’s very good at maths. She could help you with the garage. I mean with all the paperwork.”

  “The garage is mine,” I growl. “I don’t need any help.”

  I don’t know which pisses me off more—Sive’s intelligence or Ma’s suggestions. Of course, my mother is right, but I’m not going to tell her that. And of course, my Sive is very smart but I’m not going to tell her that.

  Ma chuckles as the front door creaks open and Sive walks in. Boulder is right behind her, two bags swinging in his hand. He looks like an old cock trying to impress a young hen. Sive lifts her head and her eyes lock on mine. A bright smile spreads across her face, and she raises her hand with a pile of money.

  “Blaze gave her one hundred and fifty for three drawings,” Boulder says. “What a scrooge.” He puts the bags on the kitchen table.

  I rise to my feet with a groan escaping my mouth and lean over Sive, tearing the money from her hand. “For the rent. For six months in advance.”

  Sive squeals like a baby mouse and widens her eyes at me. Ma wants to kill me with her glance and Boulder smirks.

  “What?” I fall onto the couch. “She is too young to have so much money. I will take care of her and of the money.”

  If she has no money, she won’t move out. It’s as simple as that.

  “Have a shower first,” Ma says.

  “That’s a good idea,” I say and shuffle to the bathroom.

  As I walk out of it fifteen minutes later, Ma is cooking dinner and Boulder is talking to Sive. They are sitting in the couch and sipping orange juice. I go to the bedroom and pull on a pair of jeans, then hide Sive’s money in the drawer with a lock and join the others.

  We eat at the kitchen table and Sive doesn’t look at me. Not even once. Like I’m invisible to her.

  So I continue to be a part of this parody called a family dinner. Everybody knows that I have just returned from a really shitty job, but we are talking about food. Sive nods at Boulder and Ma and keeps her nose low, almost nudging her mashed potatoes.

  “Come to the office in two days,” Boulder says to me and his eyes turn icy cold. “And have some proper rest.”

  “Sive will look after him,” Ma says and tilts her head towards Boulder.

  They rise from their seats and collect the plates, then leave the house. Sive and I are sitting at the table and it’s quiet like we’re in some fucking catacombs.

  Sive clutches the edge of the table and lifts herself.

  “Sit down,” I growl.

  Her face stiffens, but she obeys me.

  “What do you want to know, Sive?”

  “No-thingg.”

  “Really?”

  “Rea-lly.”

  “Okay, you’ve probably figured out everything. But maybe I want to know something.” I raise my palms and hold them vertically. Something cracks and crumbles into pieces inside me. It’s like a spark appears in my head, grows into a flame which in turn forms a violent unstoppable flood of volcanic lava. It’s like my whole being is going to pour out of me. Like I have no control over myself. “You can see these hands, Sive? These are the hands of a killer. The killer who has killed five peopl
e. They were human trash but still people. Do you want these hands to touch you?”

  Sive freezes like a sculpture, her face cadaverous. She turns her head and stares at the window, choking back tears. Her body shakes.

  “I killed that man who attacked you on the road, Sive. I didn’t intend to but I did. I killed a drug dealer yesterday and I beat two gangsters. Are you still able to love me?”

  Sive rises to her feet and saunters towards the front door, slowly like she’s a ghost. There is a cold silence like we’re standing on the edge of a glacier.

  I guess that means she will not love me any longer. I don’t even know why I have told her that. Do I want redemption? Do I want somebody to carry that darkness with me?

  I think I want a strong woman by my side. The woman who would accept me, support me. Be with me no matter what.

  My head drops as the front door slams shut behind Sive. I sit with my elbows on my lap and I feel like there is no me. There is a black nothingness in my head and around me. Time passes but I’m numb, unable to move. Some thoughts flash through my mind, blurry at first, then clearer and clearer.

  Sive might go to Grant Ruiz or might as well be fifty miles from here. Maybe she will even attempt to put me in jail. I don’t really care. My life seems to be pointless without her.

  I will end up killing more people until somebody succeeds in killing me. That’s my future.

  A warm breeze brushes my forehead and somebody’s fingers thread through my hair. I raise my head and glance at an angel. At my Sive. She is standing between my knees and dives her hands under her dress. Her panties slide down to her ankles and she steps out of them, then leans forward and starts unzipping my jeans.

  I can’t move, but my hard dick lives its own life and springs out. Sive straddles my lap and holds me in her hand delicately, stroking me up and down. Warmth spreads from my groin to my toes. She rises on her tiptoes and impales herself on my cock. Her bottom grinds against my hips and her face wrinkles in pain.

  I’m causing her pain; I always will. But she can handle that pain. She can handle me, take the darkness from me if only for a moment.