Damn It All to Hell

Chapter 19

Every time I see someone, my brain involuntarily flashes through hundreds of images of myself killing them in agonizingly vivid scenes of colorful brutality. I don’t know why. I don’t understand. It’s almost like every time something occurs in my life, it acts as a springboard off of which my next action will deflect. It’s almost like the occurrences which surround me at all times are merely illusions of peace and tranquility that only occasionally reveal the tragedy and the violently disappointing reality which really lies behind the facade. It’s almost like the reason I am who I am is a result of the world around me.

What I really don’t understand is why it’s happening to me, specifically. I don’t understand why it’s not happening with everyone else, too, or at least more than just one other person -- more than just Edan. I don’t understand why I’ve been chosen. I don’t understand why my reality has to include all the pain and destruction that should have been spread out over thousands of people’s lives in the waking reality.

I feel like a different person. All the mysteries of the universe make sense to me for the first time in my life. Everything seems to have been assigned an additional dimension of realism. Everything is brighter and clearer, and it all makes sense! My own mind is a bit confusing, but the things around me make perfect sense. I can grasp the meaning of the most obscured visions before me. All of the world’s power lies in my hands because I have killed.

I’ve always known I wasn’t like other people; I knew it the very first time I stepped onto a crowded sidewalk. Everyone walks by me like they have something to do or somewhere to go. They all walk by as though they’re actually fascinated by the waking reality in which they’re living. It’s like they don’t even know they’re missing something. If any of those people could take just one moment to experience the true understanding that’s inside my own head, their eyes would be opened to an entirely new universe. Why me?

I always assumed the visions I saw in my head were just extensions or repercussions of the atrocity I experienced at sixteen, but now I’m not so sure. Now, I think it’s more than that. Now, I know I’ve been selected from the multitudes to be the one to understand. I am the one who knows.

Of course, what if it was Edan who actually killed that bastard of a man? What if Edan actually beat him to death and I only shot at a carcass? What if I didn’t actually kill anyone? What if Edan is the one who feels the true understanding, the true knowledge, the truth, the absolute truth?

Edan is sitting beside me, and again we find ourselves engaged in strenuous silence. The silence is so thick that it wraps around me like an asphyxiating spell. Our silence is so strange; it reveals more to us than words. I feel so bad for Edan right now. The scene of the long-haired man has escaped somewhat from our minds, and the only thought now is of Edan’s loss. He’s just lost his best friend. We tried going back to see what happened to Gavin and the cab, but when we arrived at the scene, the cab and the sports car were already gone. Now that I think about it, I guess I vaguely recall hearing sirens as I stood in the dark alleyway, pointing a gun at the stranger’s head.

The gun is still in my hand. I’m not sure what to do with it. I keep turning it over and over, noticing how cold and hard it is, how much it feels like it killed part of Edan. The thought of that stupid man having killed Gavin pains me more than I ever would have expected. I didn’t even know Gavin. I didn’t know him, but I see the loss bleeding from Edan’s eyes. I see the pain and the familiarity of having lost too many people in his lifetime. If I hadn’t shot that man, the hatred in my own head would have grown inside of me, slowly tearing me apart, torturing me with excruciating pain until it eventually killed me. That pitiful man was such a disgrace to the human species, such a waste of flesh. He was such a useless person, and yet somehow he caused the death of someone Edan knew and loved. Before today, I didn’t really know what hate was. I didn’t know how all-consuming it was, how invigorating it could be. I didn’t know I could feel it. I didn’t know it could make me kill. I didn’t want to kill; it had to be done. I wanted to avoid it.

Of course, I couldn’t have done anything to avoid it, anyway. I can’t even begin to count the times I smelled that foul alleyway, how many times I saw the stranger’s hair flailing wildly in the wind, how many times I saw the man running hilariously, trying desperately to escape from his predetermined fate. It wasn’t like I had a choice.

Edan’s face is radiating with a faint, yet vaguely intense glow. He’s become one with the car again, holding the steering wheel like a prized possession. He’s calm and relaxed, his eyes focused straight in front of him, seemingly engrossed in a sight other than the road before us, other than the cars around us. He seems to be elsewhere. I wish there was any way at all for me to describe to him how much I love him. I wish I could tell him how my stomach falls into my knees when I look at him. The complete and absolute love I have for Edan makes my insides twist around themselves like they’re dying to escape from my body to throw themselves on the ground in front of him, prostrating themselves to the benefit of the most magnificent being on earth, the physical representation of all that is good, the epitome of perfection. Edan is everything that makes me whole. I wish there was a way to tell him that. I wish there was a way for me to give him the feeling in my heart as a gift. I wish I could wrap it up in a box and hand it to him so he could see it and feel it and know how sincere I am in my promises, but there’s no way for me to do that. Instead, I sit next to him in the car, defining, exploring, and analyzing the impenetrable silence, at a complete loss for what to say.

The sun has disappeared behind a massive grey cloud. The sparkling blueness of the sky has faded to the dark, blue-grey of a promising storm. The cold air is still and quiet, with only a slight breeze sweeping through the leaveless trees in its soft voice, whispering to the world to leave Edan and me alone with our desolation, our private solitude, our lifetime of darkness, emptiness, and desperation.

I can’t decide if this is a high point or a low point in my life. On one hand, I’ve just met the man of my dreams, made love to him, and come to know him like I know myself in just two days. But on the other hand, I’ve recently done as my father did when I was sixteen. I’ve become what I despise most in the world; I am a killer. I am someone who had nothing to do but kill for the sake of killing. I needed to witness death. I needed to cause death. I needed to know that life was available to me for the taking, and I took it at face value. I took it, I tortured it, and I made it go straight to hell, straight to the place where all of my torture was conceived. I have never felt so close to my father. I never expected to know what it was that made him take life into his own hands.

I feel so vastly different from the person I thought I was that I’m almost wondering if I’m going to recognize Malana when I see her. I wonder if she’ll recognize me? I wonder if she’ll know from the first glance that I’m not the same friend she’s always known? I wonder if she’ll know I’m a killer like a mother knows her daughter has lost her virginity?

What the hell am I thinking? Malana’s not that bright. She won’t know. She’ll just say hello and we’ll go off on our random conversation tangents and all will be right with the world. Malana will never know things as I know them.

“Oh shit.”

‘What? What’s wrong?’ All this time and he hasn’t said a word. Why the sudden outburst?

"Shit, shit, shit!"

‘What?! What’s wrong?! Are you okay?’ Oh my God, Edan! I’m so afraid of what might be wrong. He’s been taking the situation really rather well. After all, his best friend is dead, and the two of us just attacked and killed a guy in the street.

"Shit."

He’s starting the engine. I think I should probably put my seatbelt on. I reach back to pull the seatbelt forward as Edan glances back and forth between the rearview mirror and the road before us.

"Shit."

Okay, I’ve got it: something is shitty. ‘What the hell is going on?’ Edan just revved the motor like there’s no tomorrow, and he’s pressing the gas pedal to the floor as we speed off towards Malana’s place. ‘EDAN! WHAT’S WRONG?!’ He looks worried. His face has lost all of its color, even the flushed circles of rushing adrenaline are gone from his cheeks.

"Look."

He’s pointing out the rear window. I’m looking behind us as we speed away, but what I see looks remarkably similar to any normal road.

Oh, wait. There’s one car speeding along faster than all the rest. It doesn’t have its headlights on -- just the dimmers. The car is swerving in and out of the surrounding traffic like it’s in a hurry to get a pregnant woman to the hospital. The car is far enough away that I can’t tell what it looks like. All I see is the movement of the faint orange lights. ‘Is it that car?’

"It’s them."

That doesn’t help much. ‘Who?’

"Shit."

This is not going anywhere. Fine. I’ll just sit back, relax, and try to enjoy the ride. Sometimes it’s rather nice to not know where you’re going. I think I tend to know where I’m going too often. That can get rather tedious.

Now Edan is swerving back and forth between traffic. The clouds have gotten so thick and dark that the sky is barely visible behind them. We’re moving progressively faster through the rickety streets, all the while looking ahead and then behind, ahead then behind. The car behind us is closer than it was before. I can barely see the shapes of two pale faces through the front windshield of a very small car. It’s still pretty far away, though.

We’ve only been driving a matter of two minutes, and already I’m completely lost. I haven’t the slightest idea where we are. We’re not far from Malana’s neighborhood -- I know that much -- but we’ve taken so many sidestreets and one-way roads that I feel like I’ve never seen this area before. The streets are empty, with no signs of civilization other than the occasional speck of litter that flies into the air after we breeze past it. The car behind us is closing in faster and faster, even with the complication of the narrow streets and confusing roads. Now I’m starting to get worried.

My sharpened senses make the two faces in the car behind us easier to see than they should be. They’re a little closer than I’d like for them to be; I can see their intense glares between large shards of broken glass which surround a large hole in their front windshield. They look like they’re out for blood. ‘Edan, what’s going on?’

"It’s them. It’s them. It’s them…"

‘Edan?’ What the hell is wrong with him? I’ve never seen him look so utterly at a loss for something to do. He looks horrified and scared, and strangely enough, he looks like he’s going to cry.

"Not now. Not now. Not now…"

‘EDAN! TELL ME WHAT’S GOING ON!!!’ There’s a tear falling slowly and gently down his right cheek like a lone petal falling from a rosebush full of blood-thirsty thorns. It’s beautiful. I want to cry for the sight of seeing this amazingly handsome and strong man crying like he’s about to witness the destruction of an empire. I’m desperate to know what he’s thinking, but I can’t bring myself to bother him to tell me. He’s taking dangerous turns around every other corner, regardless of which way the street is supposed to go. The car has taken several turns on two wheels, and it’s squealing like a lonely pig being led down the last mile to the slaughterhouse. Every turn feels like it’s going to be the end of us, but I have faith that Edan will lead me to safety.

"It’s them. They’re here. Now. Not now. Not now. It’s them…"

Edan’s repeating himself like the words are coming straight out of his head, without any help from his mouth. I’m sure he doesn’t even know he’s speaking out loud. He’s still ghostly white, but he’s sweating from the effort of breathing and the feverish wishing that the car doesn’t topple over onto its roof. He’s twisting and turning the steering wheel with the ease of a professional racer, but the car is showing signs of wear. Every corner brings a wave of muddy slush and cold water along with the smell of burning rubber. We’re taking so many turns that I feel like we’re driving in circles.

"Where are they?"

I’m whirling around to look out the back window to give Edan a full report of their status, but the little car is nowhere to be seen. The road is insanely quiet, except for the sound of our tiring engine. Edan slows the car to a crawl in the shadow of a large building, and we look around restlessly for any sign of movement other than our own. ‘I think we lost them.’ I’m confused and worried, but unusually hopeful. I know that nothing can go wrong with something so right as Edan and myself. I am certain. I have faith.

Edan is leaning his head back and closing his eyes. One more tear has escaped from his closed eyelids. His assuredness, his confidence, and his willful and anxiously methodical means of attacking the world have completely vanished. He looks somehow barren of all the strength and courage he had even just ten minutes ago. I want to hold him forever. I want to reach over and tell him everything’s okay. I want him to believe me with all his heart and soul.

"Trista?"

‘Yes?’ He’s turning his head to me in the darkness of this grey night of cold insecurity to reveal his two gems of eyes sparkling even more magnificently than ever with the magnification of welling tears. I have to hold him. My seatbelt flings back to its initial position against the car door, and I lean over to hold Edan in my arms. My arms feel like they belong around his strong body. I can feel the warmth of his tears against my neck. He’s holding me so tightly that I know he wishes we could be together in the same body, in the same time, knowing the same things, thinking the same thoughts. I know he loves me. I love him, too. His strength makes me melt, but his tears make me hate the entire world. Anything that causes this man tears is an evil worse than Satan himself.

I can feel Edan’s lips moving slowly against my neck, trying desperately to tell me something. I know what he wants to say. I know it. It’s okay. I love him. His lips are tired and defeated, and limply they fall against the side of my neck in a hopeless desperation of lonely misery. The words have fallen backwards into his throat, and he seems to be choking on the mixture of his words and his tears.

I have to look in his eyes again. I have to struggle against his arms to convince him to release me from his grasp. I’m pushing back from his chest to look into his blue, blue eyes. The sparkling window of tears has shattered and fallen from his eyes. The blueness is so clear, so true, so transparent as it tries to hide his fear. The depth of his eyes sends me beyond oceans of sky into an oblivion of peace and tranquility. I can see his soul. I understand. ‘It’s okay, Edan. It’s okay.’

He’s sobbing uncontrollably now as I settle back into my own seat. I can feel the tears coming into my own eyes. I can’t help but chuckle at the thought of the same tears welling up in my eyes. My eyes aren’t worthy of the same kind of tears. His eyes are amazing.

"Trista…"

I’m turning my head to look at him again as I hear a horrible screech directly in front of our partially hidden parked car. Edan’s lips part with a tiny whisper just as the windshield crashes into my lap in the midst of the heat of a frighteningly nearby explosion.

My jeans are getting darker. Edan’s neck must be broken. His head is awkwardly cracked to the right as his mouth drips with a whisper of blood. The tears have turned red and are dripping down his face, which has finally been restored with color. I can’t feel any pain.

I have to tear my eyes away from Edan to look into the car in front of me. The car is mangled and crushed, the two glaring faces are now limp bodies slumping down against the dashboard, horribly mangled along with the frame of the tiny black sports car. I can’t think of anything to do. I want to cry in a giant outburst of tears and scream with a painfully loud sound that will wake up the entire world. All I can do is lean my head back and close my eyes. Damn this awful world. Damn it all to hell.