The Accursed_A Dark Psychological Thriller Novel

by J. Koratzanis

  “Yeah, I don’t… I’m just not in the mood,” he said and considered his hands folded across his lap.

  He hadn’t been in the mood for many things over the last half a year. Six months of going with the flow. One hundred, eighty-something days of…

  Of what?

  Days drifted, nights bled into hung-over mornings, and introductions to many, many, unmemorable faces and gatherings, where clothing became more of an option than a requirement, every appetite satisfied. The mood for anything became as elusive as—

  “Suit yourself,” she said and opened his tray of salmon avocado rolls.

  Chase swiped the television remote control and mashed the buttons. She examined his resentment as he tossed it next to the glass of wine on the coffee table. He grabbed the glass and threw his feet up.

  Misa dropped the chopsticks to her plate. She stepped behind Chase and ran her fingers through his hair.

  “What’s going on with you, Chase? For weeks now, you’ve just been miserable,” Misa said, breaking the silence.

  He thought of what to say. He considered of how Misa might react. He realized his confusion.

  A whirlwind of ecstasy, a storm of pleasures, and a heart full of pain was the only way he could describe their…

  Relationship? Affair? Get together? He did not understand what they had together anymore. And it hurt.

  Chase banged back his wine and sighed. “Me? Nothing. I’m fine.”

  Misa pulled his hair and leaned down over him.

  “We’ve been together for a while now. What is it, like six months now? I think I know you a little better to know when something’s bothering you.”

  He stared at the television.

  “Something’s always bothering you and you clam up. Even when we’re in bed, it’s like you’re not even there. Like you’re just doing a job.”

  Chase took to his feet and shuffled towards the bar. He popped a new bottle of Cabernet.

  “Well?” she said.

  Chase glowered at her.

  “You really want to have this conversation,” he said.

  Misa nodded.

  “Things don’t seem to be working out anywhere I turn. Whether it’s my paintings Grace returned, or—”

  “Wait. Why were they returned? I thought you had buyers?” Misa said.

  Chase forced a smirk. She cringed.

  “Nope. Only sold two. And you bought one of them,” he smiled. “You were right,” he added and lifted his glass.

  “Right about what?”

  “She wanted to fuck me. I think. She kind of said it in not so many words. But I didn’t. So, unless I figure out what I want, she’s done with me and my paintings,” he said and sipped from his goblet.

  “You should’ve. I wouldn’t have had a problem with it.” Misa’s voice diminished when she watched his smile return.

  “Apparently not. Just ask Adrianna, Brooke, and Francesca.”

  The first two names he had forgotten as soon as heard them. One too many Johnnie Walkers can do that to one’s memory.

  “Chase. No. I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant,” she said and made her way around the living room to him.

  “Yes, you did. Stop. Just stop,” he said and offered her a glass. She took it and interlaced her fingers with his.

  He drew back his hand and stepped away. Misa followed him. She took his hand again and sat him down with her.

  “No, I didn’t. What I meant was, back then, we had just gotten together. The gallery was our second— no, the third date. If you did, I would’ve been Okay with it. I’m a big girl. I know the difference between dating and relationships,” she said before his vacant gaze. “What we did together with those other girls was different. We both agreed—”

  “Did you?”

  “Did I what,” she said.

  “Fuck anybody else.”

  She shook her head, “No! Of course not. Why would I? What else is wrong,” she whispered. He understood she didn’t want the answer.

  “Us.”

  Misa winced. “What’s wrong with us?”

  “What are we doing? You? Me? Us? All we do is drink and fuck. And fuck and drink. And maybe fuck some more,” his words erupted. Misa stepped back.

  “That’s a problem? I should be the one complaining”

  “I’m not done. When was the last time you went down on me?” Chase interrupted. She gawked. “Never! That’s when! Didn’t you ever consider once what I might want? How I feel? I thought you were supposed to be my girlfriend.

  “But—”

  “I’m a guy! I love that shit! We’ve been together nine months, not six, nice try— and not even a little kiss down there! What the fuck?”

  He bolted up from the couch and whipped his arms outward. Misa said nothing. She watched him stomp towards the window. As she handled the pair of wineglasses, he whipped his hand away from her. Misa licked the sloshed contents from the back of her wrist and stared at him. Those icy worlds of love and sapphire now appeared dull and vacant.

  “Can I explain—”

  Chase didn’t let her finish as he hunched over. “For fuck’s sake, Misa! Francesca blew me!”

  She recoiled. “And Brooke. And Adrianna. And you? Nothing. You’d rather eat them out as if they were the last sources of oxygen on the planet! You have any idea how the fuck that made me feel?” “But I thought that’s what you wanted! To be with me and another woman at the same time. It’s what every guy wants! I did it for you!” “What would make you think I even wanted something like that? I only want you!” he said. “I did.”

  She stepped up to Chase and jabbed a finger into his chest. “Our first date, remember? When I told you that I liked girls, you asked if you could watch. Sure, I might’ve led your cock to their mouths, but you could’ve manned up and said no, now that I know how you felt.” Chase put his hands on his hips and guffawed. He chuckled when he realized he had gesticulated like her. “Bullshit. You did it for you!”

  “No, I—”

  He studied her delicate shift, her deliberate lift of her brows.

  “Misa, you asked me not to lie to you, remember? So please fucking stop. You didn’t even notice me in the room once their clothes were off,” he said.

  “Chase, I’ve never done that before. Sucked a dick. Not with any guy,” she said. “It’s not—”

  “I didn’t know I was just any guy. Couldn’t you have at least tried? No, never mind, never mind. It’s just like you never even told me you loved me. That always felt good.”

  The first night at Dickinson’s flashed in his mind. Who broke your heart? Her. She said her.

  “But I do… And I’m sorry, no, I don’t want to stick that thing in my mouth!”

  “Really? But you’ll put it in your ass?”

  The burst of stars swirled in his eyes as the slap of her open palm reeled him back to Linda’s kitchen. He heard Stephanie yell to get off from him. He recalled the shift of bone in his cheek.

  He swayed against the window and gripped the side of his face as the swelling rushed to his eye.

  “Classy,” he said.

  She closed her eyes and held her breath.

  She reached to Chase. He stepped back when she touched.

  “I’m so sorry. Please. Forgive me. I didn’t mean it. Please don’t cry. Maybe we can work through this.”

  He shook the lingering cobwebs from his head and felt a sea of blood wash through his cheek.

  “Funny,” he said.

  “What?”

  “You used to threaten to walk out on me if I kept apologizing. You haven’t stopped,” he said. “I get it. You’ve been lying to me all along. You’re not into me. You’re not into us. We can’t work through this.”

  Chase walked to the door and grabbed his jacket. Misa remained by the window.

  “Can I ask you one last question,” he said. Sorrow glazed her eyes as she nodded.

  Don’t ask.

  “You may not have said it out loud but was I your
identity crisis?”

  He fucking asked.

  “It’s raining,” she said. “Please stay. It’s not safe on the motorcycle. We can talk about this.”

  Chase zipped his jacket and grabbed his helmet from the coat rack.

  “Nah, that’s Okay. I’ll be fine. I really just need to be alone right now.”

  “Will you call me?” she said. “Maybe catch a movie or something this weekend?”

  “Maybe. We’ll see. I was thinking about heading upstate this weekend. Be with my friends I’ve blown off for the last six months,” he said and turned the doorknob.

  Misa tramped across the room and seized his wrist.

  “Listen, Romano. You knew what I was from the very beginning whether I said it or not. If you’re looking for a nice girl to settle down with, I’m sorry, I just—”

  “I just didn’t want to be used,” he interrupted. “That’s all. And maybe loved. Just a little.”

  Chase pulled away and stepped into the hall.

  “That’s why this is so hard,” he added.

  “What is?” she said.

  “I’d rather be alone and miserable, than together with you and lonely.”

  Chase leaned over and kissed Misa on the cheek. She held his face before he hauled away.

  “I love—” he smiled as he put his fingers to his lips, halting his words. Old habits. He turned away, dropped his head and pulled the door closed behind him.

  “I’m sorry, Chase,” whispered through the solid oak as he lumbered away.

  ECLIPSE

  I

  The passenger window of the cruiser exploded as Davis jumped the curb. He watched Perez double over and grab his head as they came to a stop.

  “Oh shit, Perez! You all right, man,” Davis howled. A hiss passed through gritted teeth as Perez nodded.

  “Yeah, no… just keep going,” Perez said and waved his hand. “I’m fine. Just call it in. The ambulance might be on their own.”

  Davis ran his palm over his face and sighed. “RMP two-zero-one-niner. Ten-seventy-eight, need assistance. Fourth Avenue northbound at Thirty-Eighth Street. Nine-oh-one tee, eleven-forty-four, possible fatality. Over,” he said.

  “Roger, two-zero-one-niner. Ten-sixty, squad in the vicinity. Continue escort to New York Presbyterian. Over,” the radio returned.

  “Roger, dispatch. Over,” Davis nearly huffed into the radio. He hit the sirens and drove over the sidewalk and back onto Fourth. The ambulance followed close. Davis wondered who would be the one to record the vehicles and post it on the social media site of the day, and how much longer it would take for it to make the eleven o’clock news. And if Michelle was watching.

  II

  Within the dark corner of the grassy yard, Chase sat alone, smoked, drank under the overcast night sky. As usual, the boring, listless music droned quietly under the libations, laughter and loud conversations at Sammie’s annual Labor Day Weekend of Fun.

  He watched everyone enjoy themselves, flashed a quick grin and a wink anytime someone caught his eye and remained in the shadows.

  He didn’t want to be there, but he needed to. He needed his friends. He needed love. Chase hadn’t visited the Grays for a few years, and he needed the mental and emotional recharge they never knew they provided. Forgetting all about the hordes of Sammie’s friends and party crashers, he also wished he had just stayed home. A sloshing shadow lumbered towards him.

  “Here we go. Time to shine for the hostess,” Chase murmured as he watched Sammie stagger towards him, red plastic Solo cup in hand.

  “That is the biggest fake smile you could ever give me,” Sammie said in a loud, tittered voice as she stood over Chase, her hands clamped on her slender hips.

  “How many years have we known each other? You don’t think I know when you’re in a pissy mood?” She scrunched her nose when she smiled. He loved her distinct mannerisms. He loved her honesty. And he loved that she was the only one in the world that could call him out on his bullshit without regret or remorse.

  Sammie’s diminutive frame, loose-fitting clothes, and dirty blonde mane displayed an uncanny, scarecrow silhouette in the blaze of the glimmering firelight, framing a brilliant halo behind her.

  “Why are you sitting here? Everyone’s looking for you.”

  “Sammie, I just need—”

  She grabbed Chase by the hand and plucked him from his lounge chair.

  “I don’t care what you want. My party, my rules. Everyone has a good time. No drama, got it? Come on, let’s go.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. You got it out about Misa last night. You said you were over it. We’re moving on now.”

  They trekked across the yard, hand-in-hand, towards the far end of the bonfire where Rick, Jackie, Paul and a few others joked and laughed and sounded like asphyxiating hyenas. A distant, familiar face bloomed in the firelight, and his heart leaped.

  The fire pitched amber highlights throughout the tangle of her sable-black hair that plunged over her olive, fleece covered shoulders. Her lavish smile of ruby lips parted as if to accept his enchantment. The luminescent intensity of her saffron complexion radiated beyond that of the fire’s elegance as she tipped her gaze. Limpid pools of oceanic green eyes danced across his stare and permeated his soul. Her sculpted figure and curvilinear waist flowed in hills and valleys, down her crossed legs, and swayed her foot with the music, he imagined, which serenaded with her spirit with each syncopated pulse.

  He tiptoed closer and regarded the slight crease in her brow, a potential search through her recollections of acquaintance. Her resplendent, celestial-white teeth glistened as she lifted her graceful hand at him from the armrest.

  Sammie released from Chase’s hand, opened hers towards the woman his eyes wouldn’t relent.

  “Chase, I don’t know if you remember—”

  “Heather,” he smiled.

  Eyes narrowed as one side of her lips curved up.

  “Have we met?” she said.

  Rick and Jackie looked at each other while Sammie beamed.

  “I’m sorry, no, we haven’t. Not formally. I just remember you from a while ago.”

  “Really? That was like, a few years now,” Heather said. Her voice was smooth as honey.

  “Wait a minute,” she said. “Did you have a biker jacket or something?”

  Chase expanded his chest, folded his arms and grinned.

  “Still do.”

  “Yeah, Okay, I remember you now. You disappeared with some blonde girl… Lesley? Christie? Gina? No, Tina, Tina. That was it.”

  Mild relief washed through him when he hoped the darkness of night had obscured the blush in his cheeks.

  Over the years, he had forgotten Tina’s name, but not Heather’s. And her divinity put the gallery owner’s Margaux aging to ridicule. Heather was finer than wine. Sweeter than nectar. She was—

  “Hey buddy, take my seat. I have a tree I need to water,” Rick said and strode around the pit. He pulled Chase in by the arm.

  “Play it cool. She’s been talking about you all night. Good luck,” he said and tottered away.

  Chase sat down next to Heather and felt her move closer.

  He placed his bottle down on the stump between the two of them and she laid her hand on his forearm as she leaned over with him.

  “So, what was your name again,” she smiled, eyes wide, piercing Chase within the shimmering light of the blaze.

  Up close, those passionate, glorious, emerald eyes drank him in deeper where he wished he could plunge into and surrender himself for an eternity.

  “I, I’m—”

  “A big dummy,” Jackie shouted. “But we just call him—”

  “Chase,” he said and extended his hand.

  “Ah, awkward and formal. I like that.”

  A boyish grin swept across his face.

  “Now that’s what I’ve been waiting to see all night,” Sammie said.

  “Ha-ha, hilarious,” Chase scoffed.

 
He turned back to Heather and beheld the twinkle reflected in her inquisitive gaze.

  This woman read the book of his life through her stare. Passages he had long ignored. Chapters he had not yet written. Like a silent editor, she reworked parts of his past, altered his present, and outlined his destiny. Not like the savage critic who had gone silent over the last several years, with his foreboding commandments of will.

  That voice, that apparition, was darkness. Heather was light, brighter than a thousand suns. Not suspecting, not criticizing, not dominating.

  “Alright, we’ve shut up again. How about you and me get ourselves a beer,” she said.

  He stood and presented his arm.

  “Why, thank you, sir,” she said with a grin.

  They roamed together through the segregated groups and rambling paths towards the row of beer and soda coolers. His eyes remained locked on his footfalls as she bounced him from the side every now and again to reclaim his attention.

  “What’ll it be, lady?” he said and opened a cooler.

  “I’ll have whatever he’s having,” she said and pointed to him. Chase nodded and snagged two Stouts and popped the caps off with his skull-shaped ring. She sipped and grimaced.

  “Really? You like this?”

  He banged back a gulp and suppressed what might have been a deal-breaking belch.

  “Oh yeah. This has flavor. Not like that light crap everyone else drinks. Ain’t that right, Paul?” he called out to his buddy in the middle of an intense argument over the legitimacy of Golden Age comics in the Twenty-first century. Paul raised his bottle in affirmation, not losing a step within his insistently boisterous monologue.

  “So, where are you from?” Chase said as he previously knew the answer from so long ago.

  “Originally Dyker Heights. I’m in Industry City now. You?” she said.

  She moved. Maybe that’s why she hasn’t been around.

  “Me, Bay Ridge.”

  He took another chug. This time the burp made its growling appearance. And to his surprise, she chuckled instead of walking away.

  “Sorry. Nice to see you up here again. Sammie told me last night you guys haven’t kept in touch. And ha-ha, you said dyke. Bad joke. Couldn’t help myself.” His eyes rolled.

  She took another sip of her swill. Her frown diminished a touch.