Deeper into Darkness

by Maria Ann Green

  “Don’t ask,” I said, only letting myself cringe just a little. “Hey, do you have any spares in your locker?” I pointed to my dress. “I need a change.”

  “I’ve always got you, you know that.” Cinnamon nodded and grabbed my shoulder as she moved next to me in an embrace. “Take whatever you need. Don’t worry about it.”

  I kissed her cheek before heading toward the side door leading back stage. “I owe you,” I said before she was out of earshot.

  And I really did owe her, because she had extra shoes and clothes, and even some money in an extra oversized bag. I didn’t take it all, only enough to get me home. And I resisted the urge to break down again, this time relishing the detachment that took over when I swallowed every other feeling.

  It was still hard to believe I wasn’t dreaming, but every step that took me forward proved it again. So I kept walking.

  Back in the club I walked to the bar and sat on a stool to collect myself for a couple moments. I knew I had to leave soon; time was ticking louder and louder over my shoulder. But I needed just a second to breathe.

  “It’s on Cinn,” Bobby said as he walked over to me and took a huge drink from a bartender I didn’t recognize to set it down in front of me.

  “You’re both too good to me,” I said. I wanted to add that I’d miss them, but the words caught and stuck somewhere before they made it to my lips.

  “If he hurt you…” Bobby started, but I waved the rest of his words away.

  If he only knew.

  “I’m fine, I promise.” He nodded and left me to drink, touching my back for just a second before leaving me.

  A large purse slammed onto the bar next to me, spilling some of the contents over the sides. Several items fell onto the floor, and a few hit my drink then my lap.

  “Shit, I’m sorry,” a woman said as she bent to pick up her belongings. Her voice was high, falsely so, like she was trying to play a younger part. “Long night,” she added with a shrug.

  I recognized one of the dancers, but I couldn’t remember her name.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  Grabbing her wallet from the counter, I leaned over and set it on top of her purse. I added her phone and her cigarettes too before I remembered what had landed in my lap. Pulling up two bottles of nail polish, the red one caught my eye. The color was almost like the blood soaked into the dress I’d discarded in the bathroom. And it was flecked with black sparkles, like the black lies I was told. The dancer was still picking up the last of what had fallen on the floor as I read the name on the bottle.

  “Park It.”

  I blinked once, then again. I read the two little words once more.

  “Sorry,” she said again as she finally stood to sit next to me at the bar.

  “This yours?” I asked as I held out only one nail polish bottle, the matte gray one.

  “Thanks,” she said, not even looking as she took it, too distracted by her next thought, which was apparently to order. “Double, Nicky. Thanks.”

  I slipped from my chair, grabbing my drink and my bag with the little red bottle still tucked in my hand, and moved toward a booth instead. My brain whirled with thoughts all surrounding words like fate and destiny. And not the Destiny who danced there, but the ethereal one that dropped the little gem into my lap.

  Opening the bottle after sitting alone at my table, my mind pulled up flashes of his face again. As the lacquer coated each nail, one at a time, Parker’s cries filled my ears, and the scent of his blood seeped into my nose.

  The color brought on memories and pulled me right back to his apartment, but the panic was absent this time. And the numbness subsided too. All that was left was a little tickle that started quietly, but it began to morph into something more.

  A little itch started to blossom, and I yearned to scratch, despite not having the words to describe it yet.

  I smiled at my nails when they were finished. They could sustain me, bring me back in time. It was meant to be, finding the little bottle, and somehow the rest of what I had to do seemed a little easier. I felt braver, protected by the lacquer. Maybe I could move forward, maybe I could pick up the pieces and put myself back together—this time a little differently, this time with a new agenda running between it all. And I warmed at the promise of more rewards, in new, colors each time.

  Now

  “But he’s so heavy,” I say, trying not to complain, but not trying hard enough. “This is why you choose women, isn’t it?”

  “That and their tits,” Aidan counters.

  “You’re terrible.” I look up to resist a loud whine.

  He laughs, followed by a strained grunt.

  It’s hard work, lugging essentially deadweight through the woods—I hadn’t known, never realized until now. And now all I think about, as the back of his hands scrape along bark and catch on thorns, is ways to get around having to do this again. Not the planning, the playing, the killing—just the dragging.

  The dragging feels like dragging myself, pulling my mistakes behind us as we trudge along through the leaves and the trees. Not even my baggage would be this heavy, though. It feels like we’re getting nowhere, going backwards with every step.

  And the animals aren’t silent like I expected. They’re loud. It’s creepy.

  The birds call to us as we move, making conversation with each other, marking our progress with their sharp sounds. The bugs and other critters cry out in protest too, trying to announce our presence, attempting to stop us the only way they know how, the only way they can. The vibrations from their throats, the echoes, scratch against my skin, leaving invisible marks down my arms and fingertips to the points where my warm skin meets cold air. It’s a loud chorus, and I try to ignore it, but the sound beats into my ears as we move slowly forward, even slower upward.

  He’s still breathing, I think, but it’s slow, and getting slower. I imagine with every breath there’s more and more time between his inhalations, less and less oxygen getting to his lungs, his blood, his brain.

  I don’t have any evidence of this, but I think of it while we trudge through the trees and dirt. I wonder if his organs are deteriorating, whispering goodbyes to one another. I consider the possibility that he could die before we get where we’re going.

  And I hope not.

  Looking to the sky, I try to count the stars instead of focusing on each step, my feet and muscles tiring more with each moment. They sparkle against the velvet backdrop, glitter on the fabric above.

  How many have wished upon the same stars above my head, sent their hopes high enough to give them time for germination? Those same stars, the ones whispering their condolences to the man with his face in the mud, gossiping about his past sins, those stars wink in approval and smile down.

  Odd sounds come from the future compost, future fertilizer, future scavenger food, then. I cringe, wrinkling my nose to protect my senses from the offense.

  I disassociate.

  I lift myself higher, to the tops of the trees, watching as the three lumbering bodies move along the path. I wait to see if she falls, twists an ankle, catches a branch in the eye—receives any form of payback from the woods, from fate. But nothing happens. It’s calm, it’s quiet, and they move forward. They continue onward, mission unperturbed.

  Despite the valiant effort to be outside myself, my hands grow heavier with every step. This really is worse than I expected, more intense than I imagined. I’d never transported from one place to another before. I’ve always been immobile, fixed to a location.

  I spent my energy in the beauty of my experiences. Sometimes I even sprinkled rooms with flowers, with candles, with poetry, and music—like with Griffin, and Jackson, and the masseuse from Chicago. I’ve peppered silky skin with oils and kisses, massaged my fingers along sensitive areas and took care to leave no bruises.

  True, other times I was brutal, wiping out existence like a black widow spider, venomous and heated. But even then there was a unique femininity to my experien
ces, a touch only I could bring to the event.

  So this is different.

  It’s new and exciting.

  But I didn’t expect the exhaustion.

  “At the risk of sounding childish,” I start.

  “Whine away.”

  “Are we there yet?” My voice is flat, no pitch or depth to it, after I remove all feeling.

  “Almost,” he says.

  The man between us, the man slung low and bumping along, he looks different than he did in the bar. His face is softer, no angles stressed and defined by strobes and shadows. His nose is smaller, his lips thinner, his forehead more curved.

  His hands pull leaves, just starting to fall and become brittle, from one tree to another, spreading the colors like paint.

  His hair is lighter than I thought too, less chocolate and more caramel. I don’t think I could pair this man with the one I picked out if I was paid, and I’m not sure what that says about me, about my observational skills.

  But I try not to think about that.

  Instead I breathe in the night, I soak in the experiences. I watch the back of Aidan—his muscles flexing, constant and swift, a statue come to life. I catch the corner of his smile as he tilts his head to say something to me, his eyes dark with excitement.

  I let it all wash over me, comfort me, ignite me. My need fuels my excitement, and my excitement pushes my need deeper. And flecks of relief mix in, the sweetest morsels in the batch.

  I’m thrilled. Despite the effort, I am thrilled, I swear. I needed this. I didn’t realize how much I needed this. And to be doing it with Aidan, it’s my everything. It’s perfect. Opening my mouth to say this to Aidan, how lucky I am to have found him and to be here with him now, I look down and something’s off. Something’s moving that shouldn’t be. I lean forward, struggling for a moment before I realize.

  The man we’re holding, the man we’re dragging along in the woods, the man we plan to play with before killing…his eyes are blinking open.

  Before I realize it, my mouth is sucking in air, sharp and quick in a huge burst. My body prepares to let it out, ready to push everything from my lungs, loud and long. I can feel the scream building in the back of my throat, with its rough textures and massive weight. And my shoulders meet my ears in the same unconscious preparation.

  Aidan turns to me right before the sound starts.

  His eyes widen then.

  The scream erupts from me, coating my throat, my tongue, the world around me in the piercing sounds.

  It vibrates me from toes to shoulders, and I can feel my marrow shiver in response.

  His hands cover my mouth for a moment, then move to my chin, my neck. Aidan looks into my eyes as he watches me scream. His are dark, dangerous—challenging me to be even louder.

  The sound, it starts to bubble down, fading to little yelps and squeals, as my whole body reacts to what’s happening. I shiver, and squirm, my eyes rolling around and around in my swaying head, and I can feel my hair running over my skin as I move.

  Aidan’s arms are around me now, at my waist, my lips, my hair. He makes no move to quiet me, relishing in my delight.

  He doesn’t stop his thrusts, and the feeling in me builds again, eliciting louder and louder calls from me in agreement.

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t stop.”

  The words come from me, from him, from us both—I’m not sure and don’t care.

  It’s one of those times, the experiences I look forward to, the ones I hold onto long after they end. We’re connected, even more than before. It’s electrifying, pure uncut excitement in a way that’s incomprehensible, unbelievable.

  Every nerve ending feels huge, amplified, connected to each cell throughout my entire body and his. We drew blood, together, and now he’s inside me and I can’t imagine a better place, a better feeling. I feel full, I feel high, so high I could float away into another universe, another dimension. But at the same time, somehow, I’m tethered to him, connected, our souls bonded by the dark hunger eating us from the inside out. The hunger eats and eats, ravaging us both until we can’t move anymore.

  I could live on this sex, within it, continuing without breaking the connection, for days; weeks. The intensity tonight is more than I’ve ever felt. It’s multiplying, exploding, climbing higher and higher.

  Suddenly it’s blinding and infinite, and I have no body any longer. I’m all feeling and sensation, not even thoughts are left, just touch.

  “Take it. Open up and take it,” he says.

  Yes.

  “Scream for me,” he says.

  Yes.

  “You’re mine,” he says.

  Yes.

  “I’m yours,” he says.

  Forever and completely, yes.

  “Yes, yes, oh god yes, baby,” he says, his words bouncing off each other and falling down drunk.

  And I scream once more. I scream into the trees, into space, into the night. I scream and smile. I smile and scream.

  Aidan doesn’t stop, though. He’s like a machine, and animal, and he’s still climbing higher and higher. His hands circle my throat then slap at my skin. He’s rough and his eyes are unfocused; instead of just seeing me he’s seeing into me, into us. I’ve never been so connected to him, so turned on.

  It makes me shiver, my body shaking and sending spikes of lust deeper into my organs.

  Little makes sense, but that’s okay.

  Black and red; higher and heating. Eyes closed tight, lips wet. The smell of it, the sounds. Rasping and wind-soaked. Always yes, forever and on. Perfumed kisses, velvet touching. Oh god, yes. Keep going. Don’t stop. Do it. Touch everywhere. See nothing. Never let it end, never let it stop. Inside. Deep enough to see everything. Endless.

  Yes.

  I tilt my head back, groaning as I feel my back scratch against the bark Aidan pushes me up against, the sky blurring as I come closer again. I love it.

  I love this.

  I love him.

  I loved earlier tonight, and this, and the sky blackens; my legs turn to mush but Aidan holds me anyway, his face pinches as he gets closer, too. Aidan starts repeating my name over and over, but different words all meaning me. Hot, sex, Bee, fuck, Samantha, you, you, you. We fly into space, on a kite, on a cloud, leaving our bodies behind as time goes backwards then sideways.

  We bend and we sway, we moan and we move.

  My back aches, and my throat throbs, but none of that matters—it feels good to hurt.

  A thought slips in though the mist of sensations, and I’m glad we don’t have any close neighbors; I’m glad we have land with the protection of trees and space, or nights like this—in our backyard, loud and uninhibited—couldn’t happen. Although we’ve never had this before, not like this exactly, now I never want to give it up.

  I want to recreate this again and again and again.

  It’s like it was before all the drama, all the stress from bodies and competitions, and broken bones. It’s better. It’s loud and I’ll have marks. But it’s perfect. Moving out here, to the space and fresh start, it was what we needed. Clearly.

  Aidan leans into me, my leg hooked around him, and kisses me as we fall off the edge together, our breath mingling and heating me.

  ***

  “Oh,” Aidan says, his breath too fast to let out many words. “My.” He gulps.

  “God,” I finish for him.

  My chest heaves too, worked up and almost totally spent. I’m surprised I had enough oxygen to stay standing as long as I did. He chuckles in agreement while I still gather myself. Before I can speak again, he pulls my face toward him, a hand on each cheek, until our mouths meet. His lips are hard on mine, stone on moss, and his teeth meet them to graze along the already-swollen skin there. It’s a quick and forceful thank you.

  “Any time,” I finally say. “Any freaking time.”

  We still don’t move, his body leaning into mine, my body leaning into the tree. Even when it starts to feel colder, the breeze drying the sw
eat from our skin, eliciting a small shiver here and there, we stand breathing together, pressed together, just being together.

  It’s a moment I want to hold onto forever, quiet and simple.

  I wonder what Aidan’s thinking, but I don’t want to ask and ruin the moment. So I imagine instead. I imagine him thinking about all the reasons he loves me, or about our conquest earlier, or about future plans. While I think about what he’s thinking about, time ticks by; I’m not sure how long.

  And it’s so refreshing, this quiet together, this peaceful existence we’ve had since moving. Totally fulfilling. No interruptions. It was mostly like that before, but now it’s wildly better. The cool air and bright stars in the sky, the nameless faces and unencumbering we’ve done by letting go of those behind us. No dampers, it’s a refreshing feeling. No disruptions of any kind on any of our wants—we think it, we get it.

  There can’t be many others who live this well, this perfectly.

  And then the spell is broken.

  An electronic chirp sounds through our yard, making Aidan jump. I sigh as he pulls away and takes so much warmth with him, breaking the connection as he breaks apart from how we’d been glued together like that.

  “Well then, I guess that’s that,” I say. And I can hear the scratchy irritation in my voice despite my trying to disguise it, to bury it beneath the contentment I’d been soaking in just a moment ago.

  “Yep.”

  Though his answer is short, his tone isn’t. He goes inside, walking past the phone, ignoring it completely. The smile on my face is slight, just tugging up one corner of my mouth in more of a grin, but it’s there. And when he comes back outside his hands are full and his clothes are still nowhere to be found.

  Then I smile in earnest.

  My mind slips to the worries I thought I’d left behind in Maine, but I try blinking them away. When it doesn’t totally work, I try sipping them away.

  That helps more.

  Plus, Aidan’s a great distraction, and he fills me back up with the warmth I’d been holding onto earlier, when we were wrapped up inside each other. He’s always one of the best diversions.