by David Mark
Then he feels the familiar weight on his back. The sensation of being pinned beneath another human being. The excitement of welcome helplessness that comes with giving yourself to another.
In the periphery of his vision, the belt is scooped up in a gloved hand. He closes his eyes, eager to play.
‘Am I your fantasy?’ he asks again.
The reply, when it finally comes, is hissed into his ear: a tumbled rush of excited words.
‘To die for.’
There is a sudden, biting, flesh-ripping sensation, as though his Adam’s apple is being forced up into his skull.
‘Her name!’
Spittle hisses from between his ghoulishly parted lips, frothing on his chin, into the dust and crumbs. His eyes bubbling, popping, like microwaved soup …
In an instant, his faculties are at once dulled and frenzied, his thoughts twisted and squeezed.
Too tight, too hard, too much; fantasy becoming fear.
The words again …
‘Your friend. Pink blossoms. The laughing girl.’
There is only confusion and hurt, a sensation of becoming somehow less; of reducing, melting, puddling into nothing …
‘The girl. Laughing at me …’
Darkness closes in as his oily fingers and skinny legs drum on the dusty floor.
An instant of clarity. A sudden heartbeat of understanding. What this is for. Why he is dying. Why the life is leaving his body and the poetry leaving his soul. What they want. What he must do …
The voice again, wet in his ear.
Anger. Venom.
‘The one who looked and laughed …’
A knee now, hard in his spine; his back arching, teeth bringing blood to his thin lips, blood thundering in his ears …
He wants to plead. Wants to beg for his life. Wants this to stop. Wants to live. To write and create. To fuck and dance.
‘Name. Her fucking name.’
He knows now. Knows these will be his last words. Knows that all the warnings were for nothing. He’s going to die, and his final act in this life will be one of betrayal.
The cord loosens for the slightest of moments. The strong hands readjust their grip.
The boy takes a gulp of air. Tries to swallow it. Manages only to hiss, before the cord cuts back under his jawbone and an explosion of sweet-smelling blood flowers and flows from his eyes.
‘Suzie …’
Her name at once an act of treachery and a dying invocation.
Available April 2013
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Prologue
Part One
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Part Two
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Part Three
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Part Four
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Original Skin
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Prologue
Part One
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Part Two
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Part Three
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Part Four
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Original Skin
