Wicked Hunger (Someone Wicked This Way Comes)

by DelSheree Gladden

  I’ve never told her, but I have been trying to make up for that day ever since. Van keeps Ketchup away from me as much as possible. My love for her can’t even be expressed. She is so much better than I will ever be, but I’m trying. She has no idea that for the last three years I have found inconspicuous ways to test my ability to withstand Ketchup. If I see him in the hall at school, I will follow behind him for a few minutes. The few times we’ve been in semi-close contact, I push myself a little more each time to get closer to him without letting my hunger rouse. My promise to grant her one favor has intensified my efforts lately, because I know that is the one thing she wants more than any other.

  The amazing thing is…it’s working.

  I’m still miles away from being able to sit down to a quiet family dinner with him, but it’s getting better. With Ivy, though…my desire to see her blood spilled doubles every time we’re together. What scares me is that I don’t understand the difference between her and Ketchup. This has to work. I don’t know what else to do.

  “What are you thinking about?” Ivy asks over the music and air conditioner.

  It’s actually a question I can answer, for once. “You’ve probably guessed why Van and Ketchup don’t date, despite the fact that they’re clearly in love with each other, right?”

  Ivy nods. “It’s hard to invite him to family get-togethers when your big brother wants to kill him, I suppose.”

  “Pretty much,” I say with relief. She understands.

  “So, why are you thinking about Ketchup?” she asks.

  “It’s getting easier to be around him,” I admit, “but it only seems to get harder with you.”

  For a moment, she’s quiet. I pull into Ivy’s favorite fast food place and cut the engine. The quiet suddenly imposed, with the loss of the music and blasting air, sends a shiver through me as my hunger makes a bid for control. My hands grip the steering wheel. I have to jump out of the truck to keep control. Ivy follows more slowly and remains at a distance.

  “I think it’s because I’m a girl.”

  “What?” I ask.

  She looks over at me. “This…hunger, it’s not just a desire to cause pain, right? There’s something else along with that, I’m guessing, because there are different ways to hurt people, different kinds of pain that hurt some people more than others.”

  “Yeah,” I say slowly. It is almost scary how well she understands this. Not that it should be surprising—Ivy is incredibly intelligent—but it worries me that she might figure out other things as well. The fear building inside of me doesn’t seem to reach Ivy. She continues with her theory.

  “I bet with Van, her hunger is impatient, adrenaline driven. It wants the pain to be fast, intense, and messy. That seems to be how she reacts to a lot of situations, anyway.”

  Again, it’s a little frightening how perceptive she is. “Yeah, Van is impulsive when it comes to her emotions and hunger.”

  “And you…” she starts.

  My body tenses up. I’m not sure I want her to continue. More likely than not, she’ll peg me spot on. I don’t want to hear her assessment of me.

  “With you, I suspect you’re more thoughtful. You plan. It’s probably like how you play football. You see the other guy coming, and you put yourself in their path. But the whole time he’s running at you, you’re drinking up his fear, planning how to hit him so you can get the most benefit while still injuring him the least you can. The impact is the payoff.” She turns to look at me, a quiet sort of understanding in her eyes. “Am I right?”

  I nod slowly. It sickens me to hear her describe how I play. I rarely think that much while playing football. I don’t actively “plan” how each encounter will play out, but I realize she is exactly right. I do it on instinct now. I draw out each experience to make sure I get fed as much as possible. My shame momentarily outweighs Ivy’s presence.

  But she isn’t finished, yet.

  “I bet that’s why it’s different with me than it is with Ketchup. Boys fight. It’s sudden and explosive. But a relationship is always a balance between pain and joy. With me, every time we’re together you have to fight between desires to kill me and kiss me. You want both, but can only have one. It makes the reward, in either case, so much greater than a simple fist to the face.”

  My body is trembling. Everything she said is the truth. If it weren’t, Lisa would still be alive. I have buried that night so deep in my mind that it rarely surfaces anymore, but Ivy’s words have brought it all back. I feel myself slipping into the memory, and no amount of struggling can save me now. I feel helpless as the scents of juniper and rabbitbrush drift through my mind.

  ***

  The wind had just a hint of winter chill that night. I steered the four wheeler off the path and onto a flat area, while Lisa stayed pressed against my back. Her head nestled against me, her arms securely around my waist even though we were no longer on the steep trail. She didn’t stir until the engine rumbled to a stop. Even then, she seemed content to stay wrapped around me. I was the one to move first.

  Turning so my back was against the handles, I pulled Lisa into my lap. She smiled and touched my face. My world had been nothing but chaos during that time. Oscar’s erratic behavior had everyone scared. I had just spent two months locked up in my room because my hunger was so out of control I couldn’t be trusted to be around my own family. I was so behind on my school work that I was in danger of losing eligibility to play sports. If that was taken away from me, finding an outlet for my hunger would get even harder. I felt like I would buckle constantly. Lisa was the only one who gave me any balance. She anchored me to the good still left in life. I knew it wasn’t easy for her. It scarred her almost as much as it did me.

  But for that one night, we had left the fear and uncertainty behind. It was only the two of us under a blanket of stars that held no judgment. I wanted to show her how much I loved her. My fingers slid across her delicate skin and tangled in her hair. She responded at once, leaning toward me and accepting my kiss. Her arms held me so gently at first. It was just meant to be a thank you for how much she had helped me through the previous difficult months, but pent up emotion made it something more.

  My arms tightened around her slender body as my desire increased. Lisa’s fingernails dug into my skin in her eagerness to pull me closer. My hunger had no specific desire for her, but those small pinpricks of pain roused it that night. I was too consumed to pay it much mind consciously, but my subconscious grabbed hold of my flickering hunger and nursed it, pushed me to intensify my grip, the force of my affection, the need to be sated. My hand slid up her back, holding her at the nape of her neck. In my mind, all I could think about was how soft her lips were. There wasn’t an inch of space between us, but I felt myself pulling her closer all the same. My grip grew tighter as my hunger built.

  Maybe Lisa was as caught up in the moment as I was. Maybe she didn’t want to tell me I was hurting her because she didn’t want me to stop kissing her. Or maybe her trust in my ability to protect her made her think I would stop myself before it went too far. I don’t know what was running through her mind in those last few moments. I only know that I had no idea my hunger had taken total control of me before it was too late.

  I heard her gasp a split second before my fingers crushed her windpipe.

  ***

  As if the snap is truly audible in the present, my body jerks away from the sound. I stumble back, falling against the truck. My chest is heaving, hands on my knees as though I have just finished wind sprints. The patter of Ivy’s sandals tapping across the pavement sends me into a panic. I dart up with every intention of getting away from her.

  “Zander!” she gasps. “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t do this,” I finally admit. “I want you so badly, but I would never forgive myself if I hurt you. It’s too big of a risk. I would rather know you were safe and never get to see you again than keep you with me and end up killing you. I love you, but I can’t do this.”


  My body sags in defeat. I can hardly breathe. My head feels like it’s going to explode. Chunks are being ripped out of my heart with every breath. How did Van do this? How did she give up Ketchup when she clearly loved him? How can she stand to be around him every day and not pull him into her arms, not indulge in the desires I know must eat at her soul?

  “Zander,” Ivy says softly, “close your eyes.”

  I look up, questioning, but she only repeats her request. I don’t understand, but I do it anyway. Maybe she just doesn’t want me to have to watch her walk away. My head thumps against the truck window. This was such a mistake. I hold my breath, hoping Ivy slips away quietly so I can begin my journey into the depths of misery alone.

  I am not prepared at all for the sudden feel of her lips against mine.

  The race between hunger and all-encompassing passion that plows through my veins leaves me frozen. I can’t give in to one without the other. I can’t move or think. All I can manage is to relish the feel of her mouth poised so gently against mine. It may have lasted a second, or maybe it was an hour. I don’t know. But when she pulls away, I spring away from the truck to stop her. My eyes snap open to her smile.

  “I love you, too,” she says quietly, “and I’m not ready to walk away just yet. Are you?”

  “No,” I say, “but I should.”

  Her head shakes softly. “No, what you should do is come inside and eat, and then take me to an incredibly boring movie about scientists poking around in underwater caves.”

  “Ivy, I don’t want to…”

  “Everything will work out, Zander. Trust me.” The surety in her eyes is oddly convincing.

  I know what I am capable of better than she ever will, but she has such faith in me that I can’t help but be drawn in by it. She can tell I’ve relented by the way the tension slips from my shoulders. She smiles and starts for the door of the restaurant, knowing I will follow. I think she knows I will always follow.

  Despite the fact that I am completely unable to resist Ivy in any way, I am still not convinced this is a good idea. I buy our tickets to a movie which would normally be enough to put me to sleep, purchase popcorn and sodas at the concession stand, and balk at the door to the theater. Ivy doesn’t stop to argue or convince. She steps around me with a calm expression and enters the darkened theater. Once again, I swallow the feeling that I should run, and enter the theater as well.

  It isn’t as dark as I anticipated. There are lights along the floor, as well as sconces every few feet on the wall. They aren’t bright, but they are enough to show me that the theater is about half full. Surprising, given the topic of the movie, but I am thankful for it. Ivy is a good ten feet in front of me and I lengthen my stride to catch up with her. She is heading up the stairs, but I know better.

  “Let’s take the seats in the front, on the side closest to the exit,” I insist.

  A small frown flashes on her lips, but she nods and takes one of the seats I was pointing to. If I have to bail, I want it to be as easy as possible, with the smallest amount of people between me and the door. Not attacking Ivy is my first priority. Not causing any collateral damage is a close second.

  My meltdown in the restaurant parking lot forced us to rush through our dinner. Even still, we barely made it in time for the movie. The lights dim only a few minutes after we’re seated. When they do, my heart rate skyrockets. I can’t see any of the other patrons. I can hear a few of them still whispering, but it isn’t enough to distract me.

  My foot starts tapping nervously on the floor. Ivy stays perfectly quiet and still. With less than a foot between us, it doesn’t help very much. Her body heat pulses against my skin. I can hear her breathing. Her scent fills my lungs. I can feel her energy with very little effort in this dark, silent room. My hunger begins to roil and beg for nourishment.

  The sudden blaring of previews startles me enough to get a firm handle on my hunger. I lend every ounce of my focus to the images dancing across the screen. I memorize the characters, the release dates, the directors, anything that will occupy my brain. Two full previews play before I feel my body begin to relax. Relief pools in my numb extremities. I remain focused on the show, but my hunger stays manageable.

  At least until Ivy whispers, “I’m going to lean my head on your shoulder. Tell me if it’s too much.”

  I nod, even though I’m not sure she can see me. I don’t trust myself enough to talk at the moment. She doesn’t move right away. She gives me time to prepare myself. I breathe, tense up my muscles, do everything I can think of to steady myself against her, but I still flinch when her slight weight rests on my shoulder. My hunger races toward the point of contact. It gnaws at her, fights to be released, but I manage to keep it in check.

  For a long time, we stay in that position. My hunger never gives up, but I strain to keep it contained. Ivy asks again before taking it any further. “Can I hold your hand?”

  My eyes widen. I honestly don’t know if I can handle that. I want to feel her fingers curl around mine. “I…I don’t know,” I whisper back.

  The narrator drones on about plankton or some other inconsequential facet of the underwater cave. The theater is quiet, but feels saturated. I feel movement to the side of me, but before I can pull away, a tiny amount of pressure from Ivy’s fingers on my hand lashes me into immobility. My hunger was grumbling before. Now it is howling.

  Her voice is soft and tentative as she says, “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

  I groan in agony. I’ll never want her to stop, even if I should. That’s the problem. My entire body is rigid as her fingers glide slowly across my skin. They curve around the side and gently turn my palm up. My fingers start twitching at that point. Every small spasm is a battle between my hunger and my will to keep me from crushing her hand. She doesn’t move as I struggle.

  My other hand grips the arm rest. I can hear the plastic cracking, but I don’t let up. Slowly, my hand stops shaking. The tremors disappearing in no ways means that I have won anything. Ivy must assume it does, though, because she slides her hand the rest of the way into mine.

  I lose it.

  My fingers snap down over hers. She makes not a single sound, but I know my grip is way too tight. I try. I try so hard to relax my fingers. Control has abandoned me. Feeling her pulse bound against my skin is like a countdown to the real pain beginning. I can’t…don’t want to stop it. My brain scrambles to find something that will allow me to regain the advantage in this battle. All it can dredge up is the memory of my last moments with Lisa. My grip tightens, Ivy’s knuckles grinding together under the pressure. Still no complaint from her. Just like Lisa.

  Suddenly my fingers relax their stranglehold. Lisa trusted me to protect her, right up to the moment I stole her life. Ivy’s faith in me is misplaced. I won’t let her hope lure me into a false belief that I can control myself. I hear Ivy sigh beside me, no doubt relieved that I didn’t do any serious damage to her hand.

  The excess energy I’m holding onto makes its way to my leg, which starts bouncing up and down like mad. I want to get up and leave, but how many times can I run away from Ivy and expect her to follow? I am determined to make it through this movie with Ivy and everyone else in the theater, remaining alive and unhurt. If I can’t do this, I know I have no chance of pulling off a real relationship with Ivy. I will have to walk away. Fear of losing her barely, barely keeps me in check.

  What seems like an eternity later, Ivy attempts to rest her other hand on my arm and snuggle against me. I shake her off immediately with a hiss of agony. “No. Don’t, please,” I beg.

  “But…” Ivy tries to argue.

  “No. I can’t take anymore,” I say. “I’m about to lose control as it is. Just don’t.”

  Ivy leans away from me, but she doesn’t go too far. “Breathe,” she whispers. “Count up to five as you inhale, and down from five as you exhale. Focus on the way your chest expands and contracts.”

  I try. The best I can manage is counti
ng to a fast three at first. My body is trying too hard to maintain control over my hunger right now to do any better. But I keep at it. After fifteen minutes, I get up to a slow count of four. That seems to be my limit, and my thoughts are still focused on the way my hunger is trying to burst out of my skin and envelop Ivy rather than what my chest is doing, but I’m back to a very precarious control. I stay in this exact state for the rest of the movie.

  As soon as the theater lights blink back on, I spring up from my chair and start running out of the theater. Ivy makes a few objections to my speed as I rush out, but I have to get out of this building right now, so her complaints get ignored. When we burst into the night air, I take a deep breath, hoping it will have some kind of cleansing effect. It doesn’t.

  The emptiness of the parking lot has an even worse influence on me. Empty, silent, and still. There is nothing here to distract me. Ivy becomes my focus even more intently than in the theater. Desperate, I start marching away from her. I have no plan. I stop a dozen times, fully intent on grabbing her again before I can make it to the truck. I get in, having no idea where Ivy is, but hopeful that she is headed as far away from me as possible. When I hear the seal of the passenger’s door break, I panic.

  “Get out!” I shout at her. She looks surprised, but sits down next to me. “Ivy, please, get out of the truck. I can’t handle this! I have to get away from you before I hurt you. Please!”

  “Zander,” she says softly, “calm down. We’ll get through this.”

  “No, we won’t. I am half a second away from killing you! Get out!” My body convulses as my hunger tries to take control. “Please, Ivy, please. Get away from me.”

  The slow shake of her head terrifies me. “I can’t, Zander. I love you. I’m not giving up.”

  “I’m giving up!” I blurt out. I won’t let myself hurt her. I’ll live without her, cursing my weakness for the rest of my life, but I can’t do this!