Breathless (Soulless, Heartless, Hopeless)

by Cerys du Lys

  "This is so nice," he said. "I have a cot back at camp, and a tent, but this is so much better."

  I glanced over my shoulder at him, feeling shy. "Is it bad there?"

  Behind us, towards where Evan's hands were stretching, was the door to the bathroom. The door was open wide, with a half-empty bottle of water near the sink. I clenched my teeth together, remembering it.

  Yes, rain hurt. Or any water. But I hated the idea of staying dirty. More than once (a few times a week, actually), whenever I remembered it I forced myself to scrub down with a bottle of water, some soap, and a washcloth. It never felt good, in fact it stung so badly, but I was clean. I was a little more human, a little less...

  Evan put his hands on my hips and pulled me to the bed. Rolling me atop him, eyes bright and watching me, he pulled me close.

  "What was that look for?" he asked.

  "I..." I wanted to tell him. I desperately did. I wanted to tell him about the pain of scouring my skin and I wanted to share that with him so he would know he wasn't the only one who suffered, but what was my suffering compared to his and Desiree's? I didn't know if they suffered the same as me or if it was even remotely comparable and, doubting myself, I didn't know if they suffered more than me. I didn't risk being assaulted and eaten every time I went outside, now did I?

  "It's nothing," I said. "I was just lost in thought."

  "If there's something wrong, you can tell me," he said. "You know that, right?"

  His lips pressed against my chin and kissed up towards my mouth. I gasped at the blaze of it, a trail of fire heating my face. Evan squeezed me tight and kissed lower, lingering on my neck. Every breath I took, every time I swallowed, I felt a piece of him and his burning passion sliding down my throat and into my stomach.

  "Evan," I whispered, barely more than a wisp of breath.

  He grinned and stopped kissing me, letting me think and speak. I laughed and kissed his nose, delighting in the tingling feeling on my lips.

  "You did that on purpose," I said, chiding him. "You wanted to distract me."

  Smiling, he said, "You looked upset. Now you don't. It worked out, right?"

  I nodded. "Yes. A bit."

  "I didn't mean to pressure you before," he said.

  "What do you mean?"

  "When I mentioned that maybe Desiree and I could leave our camp and come here instead. It just came out, you know? I didn't think about it first, I just sort of said it when it came to me, and I shouldn't have. This is your place and I should have talked with you about that first. And, I mean... we've just met. It was rude of me. Maybe when we get to know each other better it'd work, but..."

  "You can move in now if you'd like," I said. "I don't think Desiree likes me, but if you trust her then I don't mind if she comes, too."

  He blinked, confused, then he grinned. "Are you sure? Um, we can't. Or, I can't. Not yet, anyways, but I want to. Not just because it's nicer here, Sadie. I like you, too, and I think it'd be better here. Right? I can try to help people. I can help you, of course, but others, too."

  "I woke up this morning," I said, trying not to get too excited by his excitement, "and I didn't know where I was. I was so lost and alone. I thought maybe I'd gone out drinking last night, but I never used to do that much. I thought maybe I'd gotten too drunk and gone with some guy to his house and... I woke up cold and alone in a bed I didn't know in a house I didn't recognize with my mind fuzzy and screwed up. And, I'm not saying this to upset you, Evan, or make you pity me, but I don't want to wake up like that every day."

  "I like you, too, Evan," I continued, unable to stop myself now even though I thought I was saying far too much. "I'm so glad you came back and I'm happy you're here. This is going to sound..." Bad. Everything I said sounded bad. I knew I shouldn't have told Evan half of the things that I did, but he made me feel so nice. Not just with his touch, but his care and concern, too. His smile, the way he talked to me, the way he cuddled close to me and held me—like he was holding me right now—treating me not just like a person, but like an equal; almost like a lover. Maybe exactly like that.

  Puppy love or random circumstance or whatever; I didn't care. "If you stay here I won't feel confused anymore," I said. "I might, just for a little while, but not for long, because I know you'll be there. When I wake up, when you're next to me, I'll..."

  I was crying. I didn't want to cry and the sting of salty tears hurt as much as any ice cold rain drop, and maybe even more. I clutched at Evan and cried, squeezing him tight and digging my nails into his shirt and his skin. Instinctively, not even thinking about it, I opened my mouth and leaned down close to him, pressing my lips and my tongue against his throat. I sobbed openly, sucking and licking at his neck, tasting the sweetness and warmth of his throat.

  In the back of my mind, some thought pushed to the fore, prominent and needy. Just a bite, I thought. One tiny nibble, enough to break the skin so I could feel the tart tang of his essence on my lips and in my mouth, down my throat. A little, not much, only a tiny amount. What was it like? Why did the others do it? Did it make them feel better for longer? Did they feel warm and nice and wonderful afterwards? Did the sensation outweigh the act of killing someone? At least in their minds, did it?

  Evan held me tight in his arms, embracing and accepting me. His body felt so light and soft beneath mine, like a heavy down pillow, yet his arms were strong and powerful. He held me close with his thick arms, like blankets, never once thinking that I wondered what it'd be like to bite him. My lips lay on his neck still, open, swarming with pleasure and heat. I nipped at his throat, just a little. Not enough to break the skin or do anything except alert Evan to the presence of my teeth.

  Not enough to do anything. Not enough.

  I moved my mouth away and turned my head so that my cheek touched against his. My tears had stopped, dried, and Evan helped by brushing the wetness away from my cheek. Where ice and water trickled, he warmed me with his fingertips.

  "I almost bit you," I whispered to him, scared. "I thought about it, Evan. I didn't do it, but I think I could have. I wasn't thinking straight and it felt so nice and warm and you were so close. I almost bit you, Evan. I'm sorry."

  He moved to look at me and he was smiling. Why was he smiling? He didn't look scared or nervous or upset. He didn't seem like any of those. In fact, he looked happy.

  "You wouldn't," he said. "I know, Sadie. You wouldn't do it."

  "How do you know?" I asked.

  "Lots of people think about lots of things, but they don't do them, right? I know you wouldn't do it. You might not believe in yourself, but I believe in you. Do you believe me?"

  I nodded, faint, gazing at him. His eyes, so nice, looked into mine, and I hoped maybe we could stay that way forever. Just looking at each other, just laying here, nice and close and good. "I do," I said.

  "Then believe me when I say I know you wouldn't do it," he said. "It's as simple as that."

  I stared at him, wrapped up in the novelty of his ideas. "You're kind of funny," I said.

  "Am I?" he asked, scrunching up his nose. "I wasn't really trying to be funny."

  "Were you always like this?" I asked. "Before, too? I don't mean this in a bad way, but you act very romantic."

  "I wasn't," he said. "No."

  "Why are you now?"

  "There's no reason not to be. There's nothing stopping me. Everything's kind of fallen apart, you know? Why shouldn't I just be myself?" With a mischievous grin, he added, "I never met a girl I wanted to be romantic with before, either."

  I blinked once, but just once. No more than that, not at all. Pressing my hands against his cheeks, lifting myself a little off his body, I kissed him. A flash of fire burst through my face and my lips, almost too much to bear, trying to force me away as if I'd pressed my hand against the burner on a hot stove, but I fought through it. Our lips met and the fire simmered and settled, slowing to a constant, thrumming flush.

  I kissed Evan and he kissed me and there was nothing more t
o it than that. There was no reason why we shouldn't kiss and nothing stopping us from it and everything everywhere else might have fallen apart, but right here and now it wasn't. We were complete and together and neither of us was broken. Evan believed it and I believed him.

  He said something through our kiss, but I didn't understand him. I kissed him more, eager, enjoying the feel of his lips against mine, and then I stopped. Backing away a bit, our lips still touching but in more of a brush than a kiss, I asked him what he'd said.

  "Will you go on a date with me?" he asked.

  I laughed against his lips, giggling uncontrollably. "Are you serious? Where? What do you want to do?"

  "Let's go see a movie," he said. The glimmering look in his eyes was magnificent to me.

  I wanted to get caught up in it all, to ignore everything, but I couldn't. "Evan, I think the movie theatres are closed." This was the nicest way I could think of to describe it.

  "Yes," he said, exhaling. The warm wash of his breath tickled my nose. "They are but I had an idea. It's a secret, though. Will you come with me?"

  "What about Desiree?" I asked.

  Evan shook his head and his lips tickled mine, side to side. "She's not coming. Can she stay here?"

  I nodded and nipped at his lower lip, sucking it into my mouth and licking at the edges. "Yes, she can," I said. "I'll go on a date with you."

  ...

  "Desiree," Evan said. "Can I talk to you about something quickly?"

  After we cuddled for a moment longer, Evan and I left my bedroom and rejoined Desiree in the living room. She sat on the couch, propping her feet up on the coffee table, staring at the blank TV screen.

  "I used to love these," she said. She'd found a bag of riceworks rice crisps and had her hand stuffed into the now-ripped open package. "Salsa fresca are the best. The sea salt ones are nice, too. Parmesan and sundried tomato are amazing, but not as good as salsa fresca. They're all great, actually. These ones are kind of stale, but oh well."

  She popped a rice crisp into her mouth and crunched it between her teeth. Wriggling on the couch, she made herself more at home.

  "So," Evan said, "I was thinking... do you mind staying here for a bit while Sadie and I go on a date?"

  Desiree choked on her crisp mid-swallow. Gagging the thing down, swallowing hard, she flung the riceworks bag to the other side of the couch then jumped up, twisted around, and stared at us. She tried to speak, but a piece of chip was still stuck in her throat and when she went to talk no words came out.

  She swallowed again, strained tears welling in her eyes, and finally she managed to talk. "Are you fucking crazy?" she asked.

  "Um, no?"

  "What do you expect me to do here? It's nice and all, but it's not like..."

  "It's up to Sadie," he said, interrupting her, "but if she's alright with it, I'd like to turn the generator on for a bit. I'll check the gas level first to make sure it's fine, but if there's enough for a couple hours, I thought maybe you could find a movie and hang out and watch TV? You've even got some chips, right?"

  "These aren't chips," Desiree said, snatching the bag and holding it up for us to see. "These are riceworks gourmet brown rice crisps. There's a distinct difference."

  Evan rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

  "Where are you two going, anyways?"

  "I asked Sadie if she'd go to the movies with me."

  Desiree stared at him blankly. Sticking her hand into the crisps bag, she pulled out one of the triangles and plopped it into her mouth. Chewing, staring, swallowing. "Alright, let me get this straight. You want to have me sit here and watch a movie while you two go see a movie?"

  "Yes," he said.

  "At a theatre, I'm guessing?"

  "Yes."

  "I didn't understand it either," I said. "Evan says it's a secret."

  "It's in the bag, isn't it?" she asked. "That's why you brought it. I was wondering about that."

  Evan panicked for a second, wide-eyed. I laughed because it seemed completely out of character for him. He always seemed so tough and strong and sometimes somewhat reckless, but not right now. Maybe he was like this sometimes, I thought. Maybe I would see more of him like this in the future.

  "Please, Desiree," he said. "Don't say anything else."

  "Sure. Fine. What do I care?" she said.

  He relaxed and looked more normal again; more confident and like himself. "Alright. Is that good then, Sadie?" he asked. "We can bring some gas with us when we come back. There's a gas station right by the theatre, so it won't be too hard. Your generator should only use a gallon or two for the couple of hours we're gone. I know it's a lot for you, but I have some other ideas for the future."

  For the future, he said. With me. Us, here, together. And with Desiree, which was fine. I liked it. I thought I liked them both. I knew I liked Evan, but Desiree seemed alright, too. She sat there, eating the rice crisps, watching us, guarded. Maybe once she and I got to know each other we'd get along well? Before all of this, she seemed like the kind of person I would have liked being friends with. Now, I didn't really know, but I thought I could.

  "It's alright with me," I said.

  ...

  Evan and Desiree had left their bags outside, but Evan brought them in before we left. Two duffel bags with a few pairs of clothes and some other things he wouldn't let me see. Desiree teased him about something in them, but I wasn't sure what exactly. She and Evan skirted around the issue, almost infuriatingly so.

  I wanted to know now! After months of being by myself, with little to no excitement besides my books and the day to day confusion, it was nice having them around. They joked and laughed and talked as if nothing was amiss. I stayed nearby, quiet, watching Evan move around my borrowed house as easily as if he'd lived there for years.

  Every so often he came close to me and touched me. Nothing too much, just little displays of affection, but I adored them. Fingertips brushing against my cheek or a light touch on my arm.

  Before we left he took a two-way radio from one of their bags and put it on the dining room table.

  "What's that?" I asked.

  "We needed to take it with us," Evan said. "Just in case something happens, mostly. If we need to get in touch with the camp, that's how we'll do it. Not that we'll need to," he added, "but I figure they might want to get in touch with us, too. Better to have it around so we don't miss anyone calling for us. If they think we're lost or something they might send someone and... yeah, that wouldn't work out so well."

  "Right, right," Desiree said, browsing through a rack of DVDs. "If they try to get in touch with us while you're gone, I'll handle it. I'll say you're out foraging or something."

  "Thanks, Desiree. Seriously, I appreciate it. I know this isn't what you wanted, but..."

  He looked at her and she looked at him and I thought I saw something between them, some unknown expression, but I couldn't tell what it was.

  "Really," he said. "Thank you."

  She gazed at him for a second with soft, warm eyes, then she turned back to the DVDs. "You don't have to thank me," she said.

  We left then. Evan took one of the duffel bags with him, strapping it around his shoulder, while he held me by the waist with his other hand. With the heavy beating sound of the generator as our backdrop, we walked down the driveway and towards the open roads.

  The movie theatre he wanted to bring me to was nearby. There was one in the city, too, but that one probably wouldn't go too well. If we could get inside without being noticed, it might be fine, but even getting near there without being noticed was a chore. The others meandered around all parts of the city, basking in the nothingness and desolation. They occupied the benches outside the theatre and might have even broken in and taken up spots inside.

  I didn't know for sure because I hadn't gone there in a long time, but it was definitely possible. Likely, too. Nowhere in the city was very safe. The university used to be, where Evan and I first met, but with the lock and chain broken on the
front gates, it probably wouldn't be safe for much longer.

  "Should we get candy?" Evan asked.

  "I don't think I can eat it," I said.

  "Do you want to get some anyways? We can pretend. Relive the movie-going experience, right?"

  "I love sour candy. And chocolate and peanut butter and caramel."

  "How about Turtles?"

  "Oh! I love them."

  "Let's see if they have any."

  ...

  We walked into the ruined gas station. Evan set his duffel bag next to the entrance and tried the door. It opened when he pulled it, so he pulled it all the way open and invited me inside. I smiled at him and accepted his invitation. As soon as I went in, I reached back to take his hand and pull him in with me.

  This was so nice, so regular. I wanted to laugh. It was like a normal date night. I'd gone on dates, though not too many, and none of them were like this, though. This was what I wanted them to be like, but none were. The two of us, casual, going to a gas station before a movie, buying cheap candy and sneaking it into the theatre with us.

  It was the kind of thing I did as a teenager; the kind of thing I wanted to do as an adult, but it wasn't acceptable. Adults have different rules and do different things and we can't have fun on dates. They're very technical, dates are, and we need to act responsible and guarded.

  Evan and I weren't like that, though. We were fun, he was fun, this was fun, and I loved it. I led him to the candy section in the dark storefront of the gas station.

  They had small packs of Turtles with two candies per package. I grabbed one and stuffed it in my pocket. Evan grabbed four more and put them in his.

  "I think that's too many," I said, grinning. "Who's going to eat them all?"

  "You can never have too much candy," he said, informative and silly. "God, I haven't had any in so long. I'll probably get sick from eating too much. You're going to have to carry me home."

  "You better not," I said. "I'll leave you behind."

  "What, really? You'll leave me behind?" He backed away, feigning indignation.

  But even though he'd stepped away from me, he held my hand in his, keeping me warm. Our arms stretched out towards one another as if he was offering, and I was accepting, an invitation to dance.