Lies Without Reflections

7. Chapter

The outlines of the sharp details were alive in my brain of how I picked up my phone and dialled. I never expected an answer. And yet I knew he would come. I knew all along.

He demanded many things, mostly explanations. Ones that I never had. Halting the string of questions that tumbled out of his mouth I put a finger to his lips. With the same finger I beckoned him up the steps.

“Promise me”

“What?”

“Just promise me. Make a promise”

“I'm not making any promises. Not to you. Stop trying to be so f*****g mysterious and then maybe I'll consider. Not unless I know what I'm making a promise for”

Reaching for the knob behind me the future branched in two directions. Both an irreversible way; one that lead to losing him; one that proved his trust in me that never wavered. Unfortunately wherever it went the outcome would be the same.

Sipping the steaming coffee at the gloom-lit dining room I traced the lines of the lace tablecloth. Waiting for the shame to come I was surprised when it didn't show up.

“What is the next step?” he asked. With the knowledge that he was as much a psychopath as a human being I was... The door I closed by inviting him I was obligated to open. I mean that is the reason auntie was lying in a black rubbish bag in the shed supporting the garden rake and the lawn mower.

“Well are you going to report me to the police?”

I looked up at him from the shelter of my hair, from beneath my lashes. For some reason I didn't risk the chance for him to have only a glimpse of the monstrosity within, not by accident.

His face lacked all humor, too.

“No”

I sighed, a long breath I didn't know I was holding.

“Then—the next is that you go home”

Totally taken aback he leaned back, frowning.

“What? Do you expect me to just forget this?”

“No I don't expect you to forget. I reckon that's close to impossible. I'm asking you to live with it. It's a lot more than forgetting”

He mussed his face with a hand, his expression confused, distraught, his eyes popping about the dining room like it was full of hidden clues as to how to react to what I had said. Obviously finding nothing he threw his hands in the air.

“Can't you erase my memories or something?”

I chuckled. Though I never tried I failed to see how that would be possible. Having that factor would simplify many things.

“No, sorry. This isn't fiction. I can only mess with my own mind no one else's unfortunately. I mean not in a way that would be useful. I have as much control as you do concerning the inbuilt delete button” after a bit of thinking I added “Of course smacking you with a bat in the right spot would...”

The look on his face stopped me. I didn't know how I deserved him, I probably never had. The reason for his assistance was no psychopathic tendency but a love for me that brushed the line of obsession. I should've left that door open. I was searching for the keys then to unlock it again.

“Listen to me Mallory” he leaned closer putting his clenched fist on the table “That was a person. A person”

“I'm familiar with the meaning of the word” I quipped sipping my coffee that tasted like liquid lead.

The total horror finally wrestled itself onto the surface and displayed on his face.

“What is wrong with you?”

The disgust made my heart twist in an unlikely angle.

“I could ask the same question” I sat my cup down with careful precision.

“What happened? You-you killed—murdered someone in cold blood and—”he trailed off not knowing how to express the dire voice of the situation with other instruments than unbelieving silence.

“For the record it's not just 'someone'. It's my late mother's...Late sister? My godmother”

The words rang like someone ran into a forest of wind chimes, and while the sound of one was melodic and pleasant the noise of a thousand metal pipes was a thunderous clamour.

Three times he opened his mouth then closed it. The contemplation of whether he should run screaming or stay and leave as calmly as he can so he wouldn't trigger my inner killer was an evident struggle.

“I frankly” I lifted my cup“ don't understand how is it that you fail to grasp this.”

He blinked twice in confusion.

“I can't let myself think of them as other than cardboard characters. Had I let myself empathize with the gruesome things I do every week I would simply become a simpleton sitting in the corner groaning under the debilitating pain. This is crucial otherwise I wouldn't find a will to live with myself”

“Maybe you shouldn't...”

That stung. I slowly took a gulp of the remains of the coffee. Setting my cup down I smiled at him. He sees them too now I thought, the fissures…

“Believe me I wouldn't seek it, voluntarily. But there's my sister of course...”

Regarding me with an unfaltering stare he reached for his cup and curled his fingers around it. He never touched it, now all run cold he wouldn't. It was as good a thing to hold onto as anything else. A coffee mug; not fickler than a marble column.

“Every week?” he asked cautiously.

I nodded. He didn't have to know.

“I admit” I said slowly“ that I-uh, I truly regret calling you today. It was a momentary weakness. I apologise”

All of a sudden something hard glinted in his gaze.

“After last time...”he obviously felt the rush of tumbling memories that made it difficult to form the events into words “after last time... I wanted to talk. A million times. You never answered. Not the door, not the phone. Nothing”

“I couldn't”

He stared at me expectantly. I wasn't the master of confessions.

“I couldn't put you through this. I couldn't see you growing to hate me day by day. I'm… scared too”

“Of what, for God's sake? Isn't it you people should be afraid of?” the scorn suffocated me.

“Of you; that you of all people would call me a monster. Of needing someone so much that in every weak moment I'd turn to that person. Of you stepping onto that desecrated road I'm treading. Of you not having a normal life”

“Don't tell me that you were only scared for me”

And behold in my only selfless moment I was disbelieved.

“The visage of that” I looked up to the ceiling imploringly “ is what I wanted to prevent you from”

“Does anything you do make sense, Mallory? You do realize by that you achieved exactly the opposite, right?”

Yes, I did in fact know from the moment I dialled. When he got home my reasons would clarify. That crystallization of the truth could happen right then or ten months from now, which gave me the opportunity I needed to make my move.

“I thought you understood that I had no choice—”

“Yes you did! You had a choice. Many as a matter of fact and you refused them stubbornly thinking you were smarter than everyone. Just because you think you know better that doesn't mean it is the truth. It is only your truth not the universal one. Why couldn't you ask for help? Why is it always your f*****g pride that's in the way?”

I fixed my empty cup as the roiling feeling started in my stomach, my system rejecting the coffee.

“I did ask for help”

“Clearly from the wrong person”

No, in the face of everything; he was the only right person I could direct my plea at. What this man could've granted me was support and sympathy, what my creator gave me was power; power to untie myself of the incapability that bound me and do what I had to. I might have complained about my bloody path but at least it was my path, my choice, my never-ending suffering. Not someone else's. That was more than most people could tell about themselves.

“Must you make everything impossible?”

“Must you be so blind?” I snapped.

He blinked, in astonishment.

Averting my eyes I concentrated on keeping the coffee down. Seeing me throw up wouldn't help the circumstances.

Turning from one side to another he stopped trying to cloak the popping of his nerves. Palms let go of the mug then re-clasped it, nails scratched the back of his head in confusion. One of his knees pointed at the door, one at me - the textbook pose of indecisiveness.

No argument there, he had to leave. And leave as baffled as he could, would be ideal.

My tongue traced the outline of words that would make him run for his life. They sat in my mouth, an artillery of consonants and vowels ready to be fired.

“Why did you need me here today?” he asked finally transfixing a point on the curtain behind me.

Forcing myself to look I shot out the first bullet.

“I didn't”

“Why” he said slowly, as if talking to a child who wouldn't understand the big fancy words he used “am I here, then?”

“It was an experiment”

Possibly not the best couple of words I could’ve said just then.

I have never before seen him stand bolt upright, yanked by anger.

“You're always like that. You always act like you're the worst thing on this earth. I never believed you”

“No, you're so blind. You want to see the best in people. You forget to see that there are other things in a person than just the best. I never deluded you into thinking I'm an angel. That was you” I explained.

The second bullet screwed a hole into his chest.

“I care about you for God's sake! What would you have done?”

“That's not importa-”

“What would you have done?” he demanded.

I almost smiled at the ferocity of his voice. Gone was the kind politeness. You did it. You crushed him. Pat your shoulders, Mallory, well done. I had no answers. What would I have done in his place? Definitely not help. People as shattered and abused as I was recognized the madness in others therefore knew they were beyond the reach of a helping hand.

What I would've done I was doing then.

“Grace me with an answer. You know I deserve one”

I shook my head.

“I know that. I still can't give you one” I said “All I can give you is that my life is not what it used to be and some things have no more stay in it any longer”

“Things? Things... as in, me?” Grey pain flashed in his eyes.

Blood started purring from the third bulletwound.

“I never thought I was common dirt you can just sweep out of your life”

“You never believed I wasn't with the angels either”

He stepped towards the door. Good. I had to make sure he leaves for good. Never looks back. I begged that what I had done would strip me of my allure of Eurydice.

I called his name as he went halting him.

He faced the dark windows of the door.

Just one last time I wanted to touch him. Last actions however prove to be fatal.

Always.

So I imagined the feel of his hair brushing the back of his neck, the glide of my hands along the swell of his shoulders, the soft sound of fabric crushed beneath my hungry fingers.

All I could do was inhale the air, filled with his scent and brace myself.

“Do you want to know” I heaved suddenly out of breath “why?”

Smaller, my chest closed in on my heart gradually, smothering it.

Selfish.

I would disown my own name with this.

I can't—can't—can't lose—can't lose—hee-hee-him.

Not a muscle budged but it was a listening sort of silence from him.

“I couldn't call you unless I was sure you would come, unless I had a good enough reason, unless I sounded desperate enough...”

I didn't realize until he turned to me that I was grateful for having to talk to his back.

There are rare moments in life that you cannot possibly describe in words. The look on his face, the mask of disgust and disappointment, pushed right through my ribs into my chest to squeeze it's fingers around my heart in a chokehold and twist, wrench so violently that I almost gasped for air. And that still wasn't close enough. Nothing was.

“How sick can you get?” he hissed.

Hissed. He never hissed.

“I had to—you have to understand” I didn't dare move, just looked at him, pleading “I need you”

I expected him to laugh, to come and slap me...nothing. He just stood, frozen regarding me with a stare that radiated repulse and repellence.

Another craving, strong, stronger than most tore free of its bound in me, unleashed it made some clandestine, buried parts of me animate. Alive.

“Please” I took a tentative step towards him reaching out a hand, he backed away. I froze immediately “Stay. I need you, please...I know I have no right to ask anything of you but...” I took another step.

This time he didn't move.

“I need you”

Three more swift steps and I could swing my arms around his neck and would burn in the hottest fires of hell. I hoped I was made of asbestos.

“You can't go. You can't leave me you're the only thing I have that kept me sane—”

My arms swung around him, drawing closer and closer...too close. Saliva gathered in my mouth, rushing in with the beat of his heart, the rhythm of his blood gushing in my ears spreading, spreading into my veins, into my sinews, into my bones. The touch was the ignition, the hunger the key and I was blown up.

One inhalation it took and the ache travelled right into my teeth filling it with need. I turned my head straight into the sweet scent of his neck my breath pounding faster and faster and faster.

His arms grabbed me by the shoulder relocating from my hips and pushed at me. He wasn't strong. Not stronger than I was. But I went.

I hated his eyes when I looked into them from arm’s length.

“What I said about you, about you not being a monster...” he arched an eyebrow in disdain “You were right. It's not true”

He turned around - the last glint of disgust in his stare, the last letters of a goodbye - fumbled with the knob and left.

The ramble of the slamming door shattered me into a constellation of longing. It never truly settled that he was gone until a dull, rain-washed, gloomy morning, when all my demons were free to walk in the greyness.