The one good thing about the place Franklin had left them to die in was that it sat on the outskirts of town. Only one barely definable dirt road leading in, unless Richard was stupid enough to send his little army of Guatemalan thugs down the main roads through town and draw state police heat.
In his mind he envisioned and painted a glass prison around his home, leaving one end of the poorly drawn box open, so all the rats could drive right into the trap. He’d just as easily be able to silence the lot of them, since they wouldn’t know to begin screaming until it was too late and, with him waiting inside the house for them, they’d assume being quiet while making their entry would be the best course of action.
In his head, he called out, I’ve done it, Cadence. I’ve set the trap. By this evening my freezers may be overflowing, but I’ll definitely be drawing all the bad attention away from you. Even better for us to find out who really cares for you.
Thank you, she said. We have storage here if you need it later. Thank you, also, for being so dear and so sweet to me when I’ve treated you poorly. More so than most, anyway. Thank you, also, for adoring me, all of our years together, when I couldn’t see what you saw. Do you have time for one question?
David sniffed at the air. Paul’s thugs were going to be there soon, but not that soon. Of course.
How did you see the beautiful creature in me even I wasn’t aware existed?
I wish I could tell you something grand and romantic, he said, as he felt her eyes glaze over and he fought to keep from saying what he really thought about the relationship-dynamic he seemed to be continually placing himself closer to the bottom of. But that’s just what I saw. I knew you were beautiful to me. Stunning. Perfectly, breathtakingly beautiful, before you even raised your face to look at me.
Oh... You didn’t see.
I’m sorry?
It’s nothing, she said. I’m being. You’re making me feel like a teenage girl again. I’m being silly. Stupid.
No you’re not. And please quit talking about yourself negatively. Would you do that for me? Would you do that for everyone else, too? Most importantly, would you do that for yourself? Who knows? Though it might kill me to see it, fixing that about yourself might make you appear even more attractive than you already are.
Yes, David, I’ll quit. But please. You’re filling me with false pride. You make me out to be so wonderful, but I’m—
And no more apologising, he said. You have nothing to be ashamed of, or about.
Thank you, David, she said. I just meant you didn’t see my face or my body before you knew what I looked like. I was looking down and wearing a loose and heavy dress. Your eyes. They didn’t get to tell you any lies before you looked upon me. I was wrong to accuse you of that, but I couldn’t think of a reasonable argument at the time, and you...That must be why you saw what I am, on the inside, before I showed myself to you. You must have felt me. Heard my inner voice. What I am. And that allowed you to see. I’m guessing. It makes sense, though, yes?
I suppose it does, he said. I’ll see you later this afternoon. Should I bring more meat?
No, dear. I mean, David. Just bring yours. I mean, yourself. We’ll have cheese pizzas. To avoid any more gaminess and keep Juno from collapsing. After what I can feel you’ll be doing today, you’re going to need all the help you can get in the perception department.
Promise me you’ll sweat out that meat from last night and shower.
I am, she said, feeling somewhat empty inside. I will make sure the world sees I am beautiful, as you say. At least, what it considers beautiful. But it will be difficult if they... It will be difficult.
What will?
Knowing they love me first with their eyes while you loved me first with only your heart.
I still do, Melody. I mean, Cadence. I have to go now. They’re close.
Be safe, David. And, she paused. Just in case... I love you. Truly.
Now what are you going to do if I don’t die? He gritted his teeth.
David. You’re embarrassing me. I only meant that—
I love you too, Cadence.
I know, she replied with sadness. I’ve known.
Her voice drifted out of his head as the sounds of cars rolling down the dirt road came thundering in.
Peeking through the blinds, he saw a small patch of dark clouds in the sky, moving toward the house, and seven cars pulling into his driveway. Jamming it up. From the vehicles, twenty-seven Guatemalan goons started squeezing out.
He completed the glass prison and sat, with his back against the wall, as he silenced them all and began to breathe in, and out, and hold. Over and over again, until he sensed he was semi-solid enough. But, just in case, he went into the bedroom and turned on the TV set. Marvelling as he manoeuvred the knob and could still see through himself.
He skipped to the front door and opened it wide. There was no point in risking the Guatemalans destroying it, since he might need to sleep in the kill house again at some point in the future.
The first goons saw him and tried to call out to their associates. Confusion on their faces as they waved the others in.
David hurried back into the bedroom as the thugs followed him slowly and the light from outside dimmed.
They opened drawers and knocked open doors as he watched and waited. Looking at him like he was from another planet. They had no idea. Not why they couldn’t speak. Not why he was so calmly sitting on the bed, watching television and waiting for them.
Not that they were each about to become a possibly-healthy, dubiously-nutritious meal.
When all twenty-seven had entered, he walked back to the front door as they attacked him. Some striking him, but not making a mark. Most of them accidentally hacking into one another with their Machetes, bleeding like stuck pigs and silently screaming in pain as he locked the front door and stood, with arms crossed, in front of it.
“This is the end of the line, gentlemen.” They all looked at him as if they understood, and he laughed. “You guys can follow me?” They all nodded. “I could barely speak Spanish before, but I guess I can speak and, maybe, understand every language known to man now. I wonder what Aramaic will be like to read?” He chuckled as he paced back and forth. “Interesting. It’s too bad you can’t talk so I can test the other half of that theory. Oh well.” He walked toward the goons as seven of them bled out on the floor and the rest took defensive stances. “Welcome to Hell, you Guatemalan sons of bitches. My name’s Davey. I’m dealing with some super-long-term courtship issues you wouldn’t believe and I’m in a really bad mood. I’m pretty sure shooting up would take all of my cares away, but I’ve made it through way too much shit to go back to the dope. And, although this won’t be pleasant at all very soon, I want to thank each and every one of you for being here for me to take my anger out on this afternoon.”
Though the Guatemalan muscle mostly ended up killing themselves, swinging Machetes like lunatics in such close quarters, David did manage to break seven of their necks and make three of them eat a bullet. Something he’d always wanted to do but, afterward, didn’t feel was all it was cracked up to be. The ones who were still alive after the initial seven minutes of insanity, he tore limb from limb. Because he’d also always enjoyed that expression. But again it didn’t quite live up to expectations.
In the end, the aggression and violence did nothing but ruin his clothes and dirty his skin. Nothing had been cleansed from his soul. Inside, he still felt the same. Lost. Angry. Confused. Terribly afraid and alone.
Sucking out their insides, dissolving the organs with his saliva, drinking them down, skinning and boning them all, took most of the rest of the afternoon. And the softening felt like it would never end. He began to feel a bit ill as he started ingesting and regurgitating his twenty-fourth Guatemalan, but he managed. Luckily Cadence had bought what he’d previously considered way too many freezer bags, and stocked his kitchen cupboards with them.
By the time all the goons were safely stored in the seven f
reezers in his garage, he’d reduced their vehicles to specks of dust and he’d finished removing the glass prison, it was almost six in the afternoon and the skies had cleared.
He looked out through the kitchen window’s blinds and saw Brent wasn’t home yet. He’d said he would be back at seven, so David took a moment to throw his dirty clothes in the laundry, start a wash cycle, take a quick shower to clean the blood off his skin and, lastly, brush his teeth.
He made sure to leave one Guatemalan steak in the house, so he could eat the meat raw, and rub a little on his arms, before he headed back over to the Strange household. He wanted, more than anything on that evening, to be as ugly and repellent as Cadence was now beautiful and attractive.
Is it okay if I come over now? he asked her as he finished.
Yes, she said. Juno is presently waking. She’s feeling sluggish. The poor dear can hardly keep her eyes open. We may have let her sleep for too long. If she isn’t better in seven minutes, I will reverse the last sleep ritual I performed on her. Although I’d rather not. I can’t imagine how hurtful and vicious she’ll be with extra energy. Are you okay?
Yeah. In numbers, it turns out they mostly kill themselves by accident. The close quarters combat helped with that too. But should I be worried? My eyelids never get sore anymore.
Oh thank goodness. I prayed for your safety. And no, that’s good news about your eyelids. It means you’re getting stronger. You’re becoming more.
Thank you for looking out for me, sweety, he said.
David. She scowled.
Yes?
That’s... I’m not... Please don’t refer to me as... I mean. What would...? I’m promised to another man. It’s not proper. It’s—
Okay, he said. Calm down. Jesus. You told me you loved me earlier. Why was that proper and this isn’t? You know what? Never mind. I didn’t mean it. I mean, I meant it, but I just said it. I wasn’t thinking.
Oh. Her lips loosened and quivered. Then you really meant it. I’m... Honoured. You’re so very sweet. ...For a bag of troubles.
Not as sweet as you, sunshine.
David. Stop it. I have to concentrate.
He tried to smile, just in case she actually could hear it over the phone. I’ll be over soon.
I’ll see you when you arrive, love, she said. I mean, David. You... You’re making me confused.
Though she was, indeed, confused, he could sense her smiling and feeling free inside. And he realised he had no idea how to feel about her feelings.
“...This is not a fairy tale... And your sin may be your salvation.”
It looks at Its reflection in everything, now that my favourite monkey has made It see Itself as he does. And It has begun projecting that pretence in every direction, at every other monkey It has ever come in contact with. Slowly realising It can’t fix or alter the distorted pictures the monkeys store in their primitive minds and that they do, indeed, need to see to believe.
Yet that realisation is not dragging It down. It’s lifting It up. Higher with every effort. And that pleases me because, though It’s filling Itself with more pride, the overabundance of self confidence my favourite monkey is making It feel will free It. Release It from an even stronger blind, if It doesn’t refuse to accept Its new perception of reality on the pathetic whirling chunk of rock It insists on calling home.
And, once that heavy blindness is removed, It will be better able to see Its way Home. To realise Its only sin. To make it from point A to point G instantaneously, if It so chooses.
But I cannot make Its choices for It. I can only strongly suggest It entertain a certain option more vehemently than the others. And I can turn Its make-believe world into a bloody, hellish mess to sway Its preference. And as It looks into the corner above Its closet and stares into me, baring Its fangs, It understands full well I will do what I have to do to complete my mission. Even if doing so means Its monkey form isn’t deliriously happy.
It pulls the diseased monkey’s sluggish waste of sinful, tempting flesh from Its bed and moves her into the living room of the disgusting monkey’s wooden box. Placing the monkey on the couch and making sure she’s comfortable. And It can tell I’m ensuring the diseased monkey feels healthy and strong. Because the diseased monkey, as much as she fills me with revulsion, is the one monkey in Its residence that can bring the disgusting monkey’s true nature to the fore.
It continues altering Its reality. Thinking It’s doing what needs to be done to fulfil Its own prophecies. Not knowing Its actions are putting Its monkey form’s ultimate desires in greater and greater jeopardy.
So I make myself even smaller. I allow It to go about Its business. And I pray Its actions, and the insanity that rules my favourite monkey, will allow It to see. That the end result of Its endeavours over these next three hours will make It cognisant of the simplicity of the path back Home. To where It’s been aching to return for so long now.
Our time together in the In-Between, I feel, is near its end. And I want, as It does, so desperately to go Home.
And, while I leave It to Its own devices, I leave It with a warning:
“...This is not a fairy tale... And your house is not built upon a rock.”
David knocked on the patio door at the Strange household around a quarter to seven that evening. Brent still wasn’t home, but someone who looked a lot like Juno was laying on the living room couch. Snoring like a wood chipper, her ratty hair hanging over the right side. Cadence came running to open the door.
You know you can open a latched door without knocking, David. Cadence undid the lock and slid the door open. She was wearing a breezy beige dress with a sleeveless v-cut top, and a white short-sleeved half tee shirt underneath that showed off the sides of her stomach and the tops of her hips. The dress only extended to mid-thigh.
Holy shit do you look fuckin’ hot, David said. Hi.
Stop it. Cadence smacked his chest and looked down. You can’t just say that to me. It’s not—
What are you talking about, Cadence? Was ‘hi’ too informal? I think you’ve got yourself a little worked up. Although, I’m this close to just saying ‘fuck it’ and putting us on the next bus out of here. That miserable bastard you’re clinging to doesn’t deserve to be rewarded with this, for all the shit he’s put you through.
Don’t make fun of me. Her face went sour. I was raised to be a proper lady and, well. Just... Please don’t say such things. She flushed, embarrassed again. Okay?
I’m sorry. He gave her a quick hug, smelt her neck and undid the bun of her hair she’d made on the back of her head. Your fictional history notwithstanding, we have to do something about this before Brent gets home.
David. Please. What are you...?
He ran his fingers through her hair, letting it flow over her shoulders to the front on one side, and down her back on the other. Pick one or the other and comb it out. You look much sexier with long hair than with the old-maid bun. She swatted at him as she tried to keep from smiling. “Do you need me to start the pizzas?”
“No, they’re cooking now. Should be done about ten after seven,” she said. I’ll go run a brush through my hair. Should I be wearing lipstick? Or make-up? I wasn’t sure if—
No. Are you trying to fuckin’ kill me? Is this fun for you? You’re beautiful. Not your make-up. Make-up would give everyone something they could blame your attractiveness on. You should stay plain so they have to admit, even if only to themselves, you are a divine creation.
Okay, she said, fidgeting. That makes sense. She gave him a peck on the cheek. Thank you, David. You’re looking handsome yourself.
Thank you, Cadence. He smirked. Miracle of miracles, I didn’t bleed away into meat, muscle and bone after I got finished with those goons.
Cadence looked down, blushing even harder, remembering her failed attempt to scare him away. Lucky, I guess. She bit her lower lip. “Go see to Juno.”
Cadence ran off down the hall to her bedroom.
As David checked out Cadence’s a
ss dreamily and began to follow her, he felt Juno pawing at his shoulder.
“Hey, Davey,” she said, still rubbing sleep out of her eyes. “Where have you been? Did you get a job already?” Her face was looking a little ragged, and she wore an expression of contempt.
“No, Junie. I went back to our new home to try working things out with Ricky. But he still wants us dead. Surprise.”
“Oh perfect.” She rolled her eyes. “You always know how to make my day. I’m going to run over there really quick and grab a cigarette or seven, out of my suitcase. I don’t even remember the last time I smoked, but I can’t seem to wake the fuck up.” She kissed him on the cheek. Her lips felt like ice. “I love myself,” she said, her voice cold and emotionless. She slid out the patio door and shuffled across the street.
He called out to Cadence as soon as Juno disappeared into their home. “Why is Junie acting differently? Why does she need a cigarette? And why is she talking to me like I’m some kind of an asshole?”
“David.” Cadence came back out of her room, her hair in a loose ponytail that draped over her right shoulder and fell to her stomach in a beautiful wave. “Your language this evening. My goodness. She’s still tired. I opted not to wake her up forcefully. You understand.”
“Yeah, but... Jesus Christ. Do you have a bad side? Seeing you and not being able to... This is like torture... I thought you said I’d be able to see people the way they are inside now. But Junie’s acting differently too.”
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