the glow disappeared, my eyes started to adjust to
the darkness.
In the light of the moon, I could see the
eerie green eyes of my father and uncles, watching me.
That was when I started to feel really weird.
My stomach cramped so bad I bent over double, and my skin became
slick with a sheen of sweat. I thought I was going to throw up. My
vision swam and tilted, making the nausea worse.
I can’t be sure what I saw then.
I can’t be sure, but it still wakes me up in
terror and cold sweat some nights.
With my pulse pounding in my head and my
vision gone, I only felt this struggle to stay in one piece as my
body felt like it was being torn apart. The darkness interceded for
a time that was still painful, and when it all cleared I lay for a
long time staring up at those same stars, gulping the fresh woodsy
air and feeling better than I ever had.
That feeling lasted until I sat up and saw
what I’d done.
They were dead. All dead. Torn apart. I
gagged and spun away but it was everywhere. Entrails strewn about
the clearing, dripping from the bushes. I couldn’t even tell what
was my father and what were my uncles. Even the shreds of their
flannel shirts were black with soaked blood. Pale bits shone
through the dark liquid, and it took me until I was crashing
through the forest several minutes later to realize those were
bones.
I had completely destroyed three grown
men.
-38-
Early morning sunlight is filtering through
the soaped over windows of the warehouse when I come to, stiff from
the cement floor. I rub my cheek. How did I get on the floor?
Behind me the chair is smashed into splinters and there is no trace
of the rope.
Lila is not here. Nor is Kayla. I sit up,
sitting up and wrapping my arms around my knees. A violent shiver
passes through my body.
I’m alone.
Around me are prints in the dusty floor. Paw
prints from Lila, shoe prints from me. And footprints. Bare
footprints.
I’m not sure how long I sit there staring
see what is in front of your eyes
when someone enters the warehouse.
Senses alert, I determine that this is not
Lila
(or Kayla)
but someone else, human. Female. There is
another room to this warehouse, and this is where she enters. Her
footsteps on the concrete do not hesitate. She has been here
before, many times. She closes the door behind her and scrapes a
heavy object in front of it. Her high heels click along. Things are
moving.
I could sit here in this dusty room where she
must not come very often, hidden. I could keep her safe from my
Other, the killer side of me. And yet…
After last night I feel like a barrier has
broken. I stand, brush the dirt off my pants. Then I walk to the
door separating me from this person, and push it open.
There is a gun pointed at my face.
“Who the fuck are you?” she demands.
I stare at the round hole in the little black
9mm. Just last night I wanted to kill myself. A bullet to the head
would just about do it. I close my eyes.
“I asked you a question,” the girl demands.
“Come on. I’m not gonna shoot you. Just don’t attack me or make any
sudden moves or anything, okay?”
I open my eyes. The black hole is gone,
replaced by the face of a young girl – about my age. She has
bleached blonde hair sprayed into a poufy mess, and garishly bright
make up. My eyes are drawn down to her outfit, which is awfully
revealing for such cold weather. A mini skirt and a tube top, boots
with spiky heels.
“Why don’t you take a picture,” she says.
My gaze drifts to the floor. “Sorry.”
“Hey, whatever. I’m used to it.” She puts the
gun into a little plastic purse, bright purple, and sits down on a
mattress in the corner to pull off her boots. I get a nice view up
her skirt and I turn my whole body away, my face turning hot.
“You don’t have to be shy. You’re squatting
here, right? Me too.” The boots come off and land in a heap on the
floor. She stretches her toes and the joints snap and crackle. “Not
much of a talker,
the darkness.
In the light of the moon, I could see the
eerie green eyes of my father and uncles, watching me.
That was when I started to feel really weird.
My stomach cramped so bad I bent over double, and my skin became
slick with a sheen of sweat. I thought I was going to throw up. My
vision swam and tilted, making the nausea worse.
I can’t be sure what I saw then.
I can’t be sure, but it still wakes me up in
terror and cold sweat some nights.
With my pulse pounding in my head and my
vision gone, I only felt this struggle to stay in one piece as my
body felt like it was being torn apart. The darkness interceded for
a time that was still painful, and when it all cleared I lay for a
long time staring up at those same stars, gulping the fresh woodsy
air and feeling better than I ever had.
That feeling lasted until I sat up and saw
what I’d done.
They were dead. All dead. Torn apart. I
gagged and spun away but it was everywhere. Entrails strewn about
the clearing, dripping from the bushes. I couldn’t even tell what
was my father and what were my uncles. Even the shreds of their
flannel shirts were black with soaked blood. Pale bits shone
through the dark liquid, and it took me until I was crashing
through the forest several minutes later to realize those were
bones.
I had completely destroyed three grown
men.
-38-
Early morning sunlight is filtering through
the soaped over windows of the warehouse when I come to, stiff from
the cement floor. I rub my cheek. How did I get on the floor?
Behind me the chair is smashed into splinters and there is no trace
of the rope.
Lila is not here. Nor is Kayla. I sit up,
sitting up and wrapping my arms around my knees. A violent shiver
passes through my body.
I’m alone.
Around me are prints in the dusty floor. Paw
prints from Lila, shoe prints from me. And footprints. Bare
footprints.
I’m not sure how long I sit there staring
see what is in front of your eyes
when someone enters the warehouse.
Senses alert, I determine that this is not
Lila
(or Kayla)
but someone else, human. Female. There is
another room to this warehouse, and this is where she enters. Her
footsteps on the concrete do not hesitate. She has been here
before, many times. She closes the door behind her and scrapes a
heavy object in front of it. Her high heels click along. Things are
moving.
I could sit here in this dusty room where she
must not come very often, hidden. I could keep her safe from my
Other, the killer side of me. And yet…
After last night I feel like a barrier has
broken. I stand, brush the dirt off my pants. Then I walk to the
door separating me from this person, and push it open.
There is a gun pointed at my face.
“Who the fuck are you?” she demands.
I stare at the round hole in the little black
9mm. Just last night I wanted to kill myself. A bullet to the head
would just about do it. I close my eyes.
“I asked you a question,” the girl demands.
“Come on. I’m not gonna shoot you. Just don’t attack me or make any
sudden moves or anything, okay?”
I open my eyes. The black hole is gone,
replaced by the face of a young girl – about my age. She has
bleached blonde hair sprayed into a poufy mess, and garishly bright
make up. My eyes are drawn down to her outfit, which is awfully
revealing for such cold weather. A mini skirt and a tube top, boots
with spiky heels.
“Why don’t you take a picture,” she says.
My gaze drifts to the floor. “Sorry.”
“Hey, whatever. I’m used to it.” She puts the
gun into a little plastic purse, bright purple, and sits down on a
mattress in the corner to pull off her boots. I get a nice view up
her skirt and I turn my whole body away, my face turning hot.
“You don’t have to be shy. You’re squatting
here, right? Me too.” The boots come off and land in a heap on the
floor. She stretches her toes and the joints snap and crackle. “Not
much of a talker,
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