Broken

“You no longer feel worthy to be part of Mina’s life, after an unfortunate accident. So you push her away, but will it work?”

Tears of anger are streaming down your face without any control. You feel as your eyes have been clawed out. You’re shaking and sweating, breathing is all of the sudden so hard, you feel like fainting in any moment. Your heart is beating rather quickly, it’s hurting your chest in an unspeakable way. The nurse had called Wilhemina, despite your protests and now it was only a matter of time before she saw the conditions in which you were in. “What am I going to do now?”, you mutter to yourself as you bury your face in your hands. Normally you’d lift your knees and lean your chin above them, but not today. Your body wouldn’t listen to your plea. Things between you and Wilhelmina weren’t exactly roses and flowers. Last time you saw her was a week ago, when after a fight, caught with rage, as the only things you could hear were the harsh words of hers, you had left. And she had let you, despite noticing the little hesitation in her tone of voice, as she encouraged you to walk through the front door if you had the guts. You had no one else in town, and the only person the hospital could get in touch with was Wilhelmina.

A familiar sound gets straight to your belly. It makes you freeze. Your wish you could hide, disappear from that room, and you almost chuckle at the thought of being unable to do that. Firm and decisive steps echo through the corridors of the hospital until they slow up and stop right in front of the door, yours. You can hear one last tap of the cane, as if Wilhemina wanted to announce her presence to you. Your eyes flutter close for a moment and let your back dive into the large seat cushion behind you, trying to take your emotions at bay. You weren’t mad at her. You could never be. Your love for her was so deep, that in spite of everything, whatever might happen, you’d always come back to her. But would you know? Could you? Your hands are still covering your face, as you try to put a stop at your pathetic tears. You really want to see her, but on the other hand, all you want is to push her away. You can’t trap her with you. You owe her. All you want is spare her the sight of what your life would have been from now on. You love Wilhemina and you want her. A part of you, more than ever, needs her. But you can’t be selfish. You can’t do this to her, and despite the pain that most likely would have never left you, you’re willing to let her go. At all the costs.

When the door opens, you grasp the bed sheet that are covering the nightmare you’re in. You don’t turn around; you can’t really find the strength to do so. Look into her eyes and see the wrath, the resentment, the confusion and God knows what else, would have been too much.

Wilhemina is mad, you can tell by the way she breathes. The sounds she makes, how she exhales and inhales and how she rubs the top of the cane with her fingernail. You don’t need to look at her to notice. Guilt invades you; it hits you like a cold shower. “Why?”, her voice is stern and firm, but her eyes, if only you turned around, you’d realize they were one step away from tear up. She tightens the grip around the cane with both of her hands and her knuckles turn white. You let out a shaky sigh and say nothing. You bite the inside of your cheek and lightly shake your head. “Five days, y/n.  For five days I haven’t heard from you”, she moves a step towards you, but you stubbornly keep your gaze elsewhere, as you mentally beg her to let you go. You’d shout at her if you could. Tell her mean things with the only purpose to push her away, but you’re weak. You’re a pathetic human being, that now can do anything good anymore, neither for her nor for yourself. You’re useless. “Only today a nurse decided it was appropriate to give me a call and tell me that my girlfriend had an accident and she never asked for me”, there’s hurt in her tone, you can hear her voice waver as she speaks.

Your heartbeat quickens and you feel like sweating. “You shouldn’t have come”, you lower your head and your eyes flutter close, as in the hope that once you reopen them, Wilhemina will be gone. “The nurse made a mistake”, you harshly say. “I’m fine, but I’m not coming home. You can leave”, you say these words with apathy, a feeling you didn’t know you could show at command. Your tone has never been so flat before, and it amazes the woman in front of you.

Wilhelmina’s brows meet in a confused frown. She shakes her head without understanding what you’re saying. Her lips part open to speak, but for a matter of seconds nothing comes out. For once in her life, she is left speechless by your unusual numbness. Wilhemina finds herself thinking that maybe you were worse off than you looked. “What does it mean you’re not coming home, y/n?”

You snort and roll your eyes. It hurts so much to be a bitch to her but what other choices do you have? You stare the pale wall in front of you covered with ripples and your lips cross in a bitter smile. It reminded you of your damaged soul. “I can’t”, you say, your voice’s barely above a whisper. “I just can’t”, it cracks and new tears invade your cheeks and cloud your eyes that no longer shine with life. Wilhelmina can’t accept that. That meaningless answer. You see her with the corner of your eyes as she stubbornly doesn’t take any step back. You know she loves you. You know she needs you. But now, she doesn’t want to have you in her life. It’s for the better. The sooner she understands that, the better. “Just leave me alone!”, you clench your fists and your arms shake in the attempt to prevent yourself from doing something stupid. “Go away!”, you shout, your eyes are puffy and red.

Wilhemina is getting anxious at this point. A mix of feelings is turning her stomach upside down. She really doesn’t understand or maybe doesn’t want to. You’re breaking up with her? You’re really pushing her away, and for what? A stupid fight? No, Wilhelmina would have never let you do that.

“Stop acting like a child and look at me”, she slams her cane on the floor, making you open your eyes on a snap, startled by her tone. She is crying too. A cascade of silent tears is invading her beautiful features. Her eyes have never been glossier. Her forehead is grieved with concern, and you realize just now how worried she might have been for you. Her lips quiver and her shoulders tremble as if she was about to fall on her knees. It was all your doing. She was feeling so miserable because of you. And that was only the beginning.

“Mina, I-”, you sniffle.

She cuts you off with a wave of her hand. “The nurse told me you can leave this bed and you will. Right now. You’ve been away from me enough for my liking”, she sounds more desperate this time and your heart shutters into pieces. She takes a couple of more steps closer to you, until you can smell the sweet scent of hers. Her gaze softens when she lifts your chin with a single finger. You try so hard not to sob at her touch, but she notices how hard you’re trying to keep your emotions at bay. She wipes your damp cheeks with gentleness, before leaning down to place a small kiss on your forehead. “Why are you pushing me away? I’m sorry if we fought. I should have never let you leave”, she tries and lets out a shaky breath before continuing. “You never answered my calls. I was so worried because I didn’t know where you were, and what happened to you”, she stops and a single tear crushes on her lips. She bites her bottom lip and shakes her head, blinking at the same time to ward off those annoying tears she wasn’t used to cry. “I still don’t”

You frown at that. “You… don’t?”, you hesitantly ask.

Looking into your eyes, Wilhemina realizes how much pain you’re hiding. You remind her of herself and she can’t help but feel scared. “What did they do to you?”, she whispers and sits right next to you, taking a small portion of the mattress. “Please, talk to me. Why are you in this bed?”, she hesitantly wraps her arm around your waist, and despite the temptation to pull away, you don’t. “The nurse mentioned you had an accident but what kind of accident?”

You can’t look at her. You lower your gaze to your hands while they absently play with the white bed sheets. “A kid on the moped, that’s what happened-”, you madly wipe your tears and Wilhelmina holds her breath for what it looks like an eternity.

“But you’re okay, right?”, she forces a smile and tries to use a hopeful tone of voice. She gently strokes your cheek as she examines you. There are some little bruises here and there on your forehead and arms, but other than that you seem to be fine. Were you? “We can go home and forget about everything. We can bake those silly muffins with banana cream you like so much”, she tries, and you bury your face in your hands and start sobbing uncontrollably.

Wilhemina doesn’t know what to do at first. She feels like someone has just stabbed her back. She hates seeing you in so much pain and distress. She can hardly imagine the fright you had to go through. And she was feeling terrible with herself for not having been with you, for not protecting you, for allowing her stupid pride to push you away. “Shush, it’s alright little one”, a tear rolls down her cheek as she rubs your back in soothing circles. “I’m so sorry, baby. I really am. Let me in, little one”, she cups your cheeks and wipe all the tears you have left. But no matter how quickly her fingers were, the old tears are soon replaced by new ones.

“Mina”, you choke on a sob and close your eyes. “Please, you don’t understand”, your voice cracks. You try to pull away but Wilhemina is determined to understand why all of the sudden so seem so keen to get rid of her. She knew you and your body language. You didn’t want that either. It seemed like you were forcing yourself to believe you wanted to get rid of her. But why?

She shakes her head, trying to avoid the pain in her heart that is now stronger than any kind of physical ache. A lump forms in her throat and sweat starts dripping from her forehead. “You’re my girlfriend for Christ’s sake!”, she replies in kind. “What the hell is wrong with you? Get out of this bed now and let’s go home!”, she takes hold of your hand, prompting you to get down that bed.

You pull away as if you had been burned. “I can’t, Wilhemina!”, you shout at her. You move with your torse few inches towards the opposite side of the mattress. “Can’t you get it? Don’t you see it?”

“What?”, Mina repeats as she feels her heart shutters into pieces. “I don’t understand, the nurse said I could get you home…”, her voice is timid again now. There is no machine attached to your arms or anything of the sort. You’re free to go so what is keeping you? “Baby, please, you’re scaring me”

At this point you feel terrible with yourself. A monster. A beast to the only person that really matters to you and that deserves nothing but kindness and love.

“I can’t feel them”, your voice comes out softer, but it doesn’t prevent her from crying. She wipes her tears, before placing her hand over the bed sheets to partially uncover your legs. “You can’t feel what, y/n?”, she questions dumbfounded.

At that point a new wave or rage invades you. You don’t want to control yourself anymore, you feel like exploding. With clenched fists, you start hitting your legs, as boiling tears stream down your face. Wilhemina opens her eyes wide; her face loses colors at your outburst. She quickly approaches you again and tries to grab your wrists, but you don’t let her. You keep hitting yourself, your knees and thighs, hoping to feel again. Hoping to feel the pain.

“Y/n! Stop it!”, she panics and cries. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I can’t feel!”, you shout at her. You dig your fingernails inside your thighs, and yet not even a goosebump runs over your skin. An unamused, low chuckle escapes from your mouth. “I don’t feel anything anymore”

Wilhemina turns pale. “No…”, the woman shakes her head as she finally gets a hold on your wrists and you stop hitting yourself. “No, no…”, she continues, choking on a sob. Realization of what you’re saying hits her hard. Numb. Legs. Mop. Accident. It all makes sense, and at the same time it doesn’t. She feels like someone has just ripped off her heart only to squish it and let it bleed. Wilhemina feels like suffocating and you feel like drowning with her. “Yes”, you nod, throwing he sad truth at her with a simple glance. You’re the one that is pushing her underwater. You, the dearest thing she has in the world, are killing her slowly. And you can’t save her, because you no longer can swim.

“Little one”, she cups your cheeks and then moves a strand of hair behind your ear. She presses her soft, plump lips on your forehead and closes her eyes as a new cascade of tears invade her entire face, streaming down her neck and shoulders. “You’ll get better, baby girl. I’ll help you”, she keeps repeating that like a mantra, as she offers you a reassuring smile. “I’ll never leave you, do you hear me? We will do whatever it takes, we will see as many doctors as the entire earth offers, if we have to”, she promises you and you bite your bottom lip to stop it from quivering.

“Mina…”, you say weakly. “I don’t want to be a burden to you”, you seem so small. The woman realizes you didn’t have to eat much these days, and how could you? Wilhemina sees through your fear; she’s determined to get it out of you. You’re terrified and she is too. But this would have never been an excuse to give up on you as you never gave up on her.

“You’re never a burden, y/n”, she says both softly and firmly. She wraps her arms around you, ignoring the pain in the back while she bows down to give you a hug. She buries her face in the crook of your neck, placing there little, soothing kisses to calm your agitate breathing. “You’re going to be okay”, she murmurs and you cling to her, taking a firm grasp around the purple fabric of her suit. “You’re going to be okay”, she repeats, stroking your hair as you like it.
She exhales a little, and you listen to her heartbeat that’s surprisingly calming your anxiety. “We both will be”, she promises you and looking into the beautiful eyes of hers, you can’t help but believe her.

mahmudasrar:

Excalibur #1 Cover

Drawn by me, coloured by Matt Wilson.

My piece of news out of San Diego Comic Con 2019: I will be drawing the covers to the upcoming series written by Tini Howard and drawn by Marcus To. The book will be out in October.

Can’t Wait

Source: roguesboobfreckles

One for the homies

THIS WAS GOOD ART PRACTICE

_“it has to be this way, Lucifer, i have to kill you, these are my orders.”

Michael stated, once again, conviction tinted his voice, his tone didn’t once quiver, despite the comander’s own pain, he didn’t want to do it, never truly did, the archangel still loved his little brother, but he couldn’t revel, he couldn’t disobey; the idea had settled on his mind that their father abscence had been his fault as he never completed the one hardest task God had given him, and that he would only be back whenever it was done… he could bring order and peace to heaven, he could give his frightened, fallen and broken siblings their home back, it only rerquired one thing… one mission he hadn’t brought himself to accomplish. kill the little brother he raised, for reasons he never questioned. and yet it seemed too hard, every time he stood before the devil…before the brother he loved the most once upon a time, throught whom he could still see the fledging that didnt want to die. but… it had to be done, and this time would be the one, he would do the right thing.

Lucifer’s head shook with sigh that hid his heartbreak, he had grown tired of the speech he knew by memory, …all those times in the cage, a part of him ignited by anger, hatred that ran through his veins, and the other… shattered with pain, even while he hated him. he still loved him deeply, he never wanted to fight, he never wanted this- the morning start just wanted his brother, above all, wanted him to stand with him. but tired of asking, tired of resiting it didn’t have to be that way- his choice of words changed, nothing of what he could say would change God’s viceroy’s conviction eitherway, so- what was the point?

_“you see- Michael, I’d like to spend a moment not being reminded that my beloved brother’s life mission is to stab my heart. that’d be y’know.. great”

The words flew from his lips with too little care about the amout of truth they held, it didnt matter anymore did it? his arms folded over his chest and his eyes landed on Michael, locking on his. his annoyed tone accompanied by another sigh likewise.

Suddenly, it seemed like the air became heavier, colder even, causing a shiver to ran down the archangel’s spine.. these vessels, they could bring so many sensations, Their hearts could feel too strongly, too deeply and their celestial host could easily feel through them.
Michael fists loosened gradually, softening not only his features but his voice tone, these words weren’t at all what he expected to hear, not even close, and they manged to daze him, and hurt him; all these doubts, hesitation and painful anguish, that perhaps Lucifer never knew of, seemed to settle down on his heart once again, causing a knot on his throat which attempted to drown him, and yet, the commander didn’t quiver in his composure, didn’t break as he very much wanted to.

“Lucifer-”

Michael uttered, letting his head fall momentarily, clenching his teeth just by the thought, for what he was going to do to his own little fledging.

__“I don’t want to do it either, you don’t understand, I love you, little brother but–..”

His speech was interrupted by Lucifer’s voice, louder and angrier this time.

-“Love me my ass! I’m done with your lies! you know what, big bro, just kill me already.”

__“these are not lies, little brother, why is that you don’t believe me?”

Dropping his ward, the oldest archangel walked a couple of slow steps closer to the younger, whose eyes were near lighting up by the rage fed by heartbreak,

-“C'mon really?!”
The devil chuckled, sarcastical and
incredulous.
“right! Because wanting to kill me is the sheer definition of love, sure- forgot that, you know what? All the time in the cage, after you stopped your hourly threats, I thought maybe, just m a y b e, we could get past this…
so what ‘bout you shut your fucking mouth and get to it already.”__

Heaving out a sigh, Michael’s gaze wandered away before it traveled back to his brother’s eyes.
__“I am trying to reach out to you, Lucifer, I don’t want to fight you.“

The holy prince spoke words the morning star didn’t think he would hear either, a frown settled on his face, staring in confusion to his older sibling, but hope wouldn’t arise the easily, he wouldn’t allow it.

-“Yeah? Well, you’re the one who keeps trying to pick a fight.”

Lucifer’s voice was softer now, observing his brother’s every move, he knew Michael, he grew looking up to him, idolising him, he could quickly detect any changes, any oscillation on his behavior-.. was he trying to… disobey?

-“Look i don’t know what’s gotten into you bro but I-…”

__“I love you Lucifer, I don’t lie, and I won’t fight you.”

a stern voice that lingered on the surroundings like an echo to Satan’s ears,
/And I won’t fight you/
Words he wished to hear with burning desire pierced his heart like the Lance was supposed to, for once fool enough to let them take hold of him, and arise blind belief, only because he wanted to believe it. unable to find a proper answer or reaction he simple stared, a little perplexed as the older kept walking closer, and closer… and closer.
-“I’m sorry what?.”
Lucifer could only mutter then, after few seconds that seemed eternal, still unable to fully wrap his mind around it, he kept quiet, bliss grew within the archangel and wrestled with the rest of the confusing emotions he momentarily couldn’t stop.

-“What’s wrong with you Michael?”

Suddenly, as a reason didn’t become clear, everything turned into concern, for him, what had happened to him, it must have been monumental or highly painful for a change like that.
But the younger archangel did not get an answer–

Michael’s jaw clenched, his eyes seemed to fill with pain the more Lucifer’s did the opposite, their reactions went in exact opposite directions, the more the devil easied into the idea of his brother not fighting him, the more he filled with hope, the more heartbroken and sorrowful the Holy Prince would get.

– instead, Michael took a final step, too close to his little sibling to be considered normal, gazing into his eyes, this was way worse.. and more painful, but it was too late to turn his back on his own plan, eitherway, if this had to be this way, if he had to carry this burden, he might as well get one little last beautiful thing out of it, and give Lucifer just the same; leaning closer, a teardrop fell from eye as he closed them.

Lucifer’s hues had followed his movements carefully, silently, and now, he followed his motions, a tad bit spellbound, he loved his brother despite all the hate he had felt, he never stopped loving him, adoring him, which was part of what made it all so painfully angering. They were supposed to love each other, over everything, Lucifer might have loved him over their father, and he had expected just the same…

Back before the fall, it wasn’t odd for their graces to mix and twirl and wrap to each other, this was just a little taste of what it was, just with a vessel.
The commander’s lips brushed against his brother’s, and Lucifer then carried away by it, dropped his ward completely, now totally vulnerable before Michael, there was the mistake…

Suddenly a tear fell over Lucifer’s face and few words were mumbled against his lips.

__“I am sorry, little morning star.”

Lucifer’s eyes opened wide, attempting to struggle, move away but it was too late, Michael snapped his fingers, his Lance forming on his right hand out of thin air went straight through Lucifer stomach, stabbing his heart and the viceroy’s left arm went around the other’s body, moving his face apart from each other, now able to sense his own heart shattering as he observed his scared dying brother he let the tears form and fall from his green pained eyes.

_“There is no other way.”

Lucifer lips pressed together, Michael had betrayed him, lied to his face… tricked him and yet he could not longer feel hate burning within. teeth clenched, and eyes, full of heartbreak stared up at his weeping brother, as he slowly started to feel his knees weak, grace shone from his chest and gradually crawled up to his face, his hands grasped on his brother’s upper arms, his own eyes which flickered on a dim red shed a tear.

-“Michael..”

Too late maybe- but he understood that this hurt him as much as it hurt himself, this was their father’s fault, not Michael not his, he had made two brothers that loved and love each other do this, and Michael… he was trying to do the right thing, and he was suffering.

–“I… I forgive you..”

The last words struggled to left his lips which poured blood, and then- the brightness reached his face and exploded on a blast of light, Burning the light bringer’s wings on the grass beneath their feet;
the oldest archangel sunk to the ground with his little brother on his arms, tears had stopped by now, his arms clung to him tightly, pressing his vessel against his own chest, staying still as Lucifer wings burned over not only the grass but his body too, peeling his skin away and letting this grace shine. He didn’t understand why he had to do this.. and perhaps he wanted to die as well, but he could not, heaven depended on him. And maybe his punishment for this was that he was forced to live knowing that he had to kill the fledging he raised and loved so deeply.

Jamie hated Andrew Murray. She didn’t feel that he had any redeeming qualities, unless you numbered an ability to wear extremely pointy man-shoes and an annoying chesty laugh as positive features. She hated the way his nostrils flared before he made a joke. She hated the way he talked about women. She also hated the way he talked about men, midgets, babies, and nuns.

To be fair, Andrew Murray also hated her. He found her politics appalling — well, he had, politics were not quite what they used to be. He thought her voice was too loud. He had once, memorably, called her a fat, ugly bitch, which was slightly unfair as only one of those things was true.

The only thing they had in common was Annette Quinton. Jamie’s best friend. Andrew’s fiance. What she saw in the other was a puzzle that mystified each of them.

“Well, this place is a dive,” Andrew said. He laughed. Chestily. It was not a promising beginning to the evening.
 
Jamie didn’t answer. The place was not really a dive. Only eight months earlier, this had been one of the snobbiest areas in the city. She’d applied for an apartment only a few minutes away and had been turned down for bad credit, the only thing her last boyfriend had ever got her for her birthday. Now, of course, it was less than it had been: weeds overgrowing the medians and windows broken out on some of the shops. There was nothing left in Gap except the racks.
 
Andrew slammed the door of Jamie’s old Escort and Jamie said, “Are you trying to break the door off?”
 
“Yes,” he said. “Right off.” He stepped around the back of the car in those ridiculous, long shoes of his — he had an identical pair in some exotic skin like rattlesnake or hamster, Jamie couldn’t decide which pair was worse — and retrieved the rifle from the trunk. He offered it to her but Jamie shook her head.

“Did you see the latest Now Boarding?” Andrew asked as he put the rifle in the crook of his arm. He had to know she hadn’t. It was one of those stupid sitcoms that people watched so that that they could tell people they’d watched it and those people would know that the person saying it was young, single, and wore long, pointed shoes and skinny Italian pants. “Diane was checking this dude’s bag because the x-ray picked up something that looked like a weapon, and Edgar was headed over with a cup of coffee and –”

“Murray. I don’t care,” Jamie said. “That show is for men with small members.”
 
“So you and your boyfriend used to watch it?” Andrew asked. This amused him so he laughed again.

Jamie didn’t want to warn him not to step in the puddle in the middle of the parking lot, but she did anyway. “Don’t step in that.”  

Andrew stepped around the shallow puddle and checked the bottom of his shoes. They looked dry, but he scraped the soles against the asphalt, hard, anyway. “Why do you think she’s here again?” He stopped to look in the window of an American Eagle. It, too, had been vandalized, though mostly it was just the jeans that had been stolen.  
 
“Her voicemail said that she could see the IKEA from her window.”
 
Andrew paused and turned in a full circle, squinting through the gray-green light of the evening. “And the IKEA would be … ?”
 
Jamie pointed to the building that had once been the IKEA. Now its identifiable color scheme had been painted over by dozens of enterprising graffiti artists, big blocks of color and patterns to symbolize different gangs. Large bubble letters said THE WHORES EAT US ALIVE.

Which was not quite a fair statement, as only one part of it was true.

Andrew raised his eyebrows; his nostrils flared but no joke followed. He turned to follow Jamie around the end of the shopping center. “Okay, so if she could call you and she was here, why couldn’t she get to us?”
 
They rounded the end of the shopping center, and Jamie said, simply, “Because it rained.”

The lot in front of them was flooded. Unlike the glossy shopping center behind them, it was pocked and uneven — an old gas station in the middle of the new development. There were tiny islands of asphalt surrounded by puddles. Some of them were shallow enough to see the pitted lot through, but others were deep enough that they could be any number of inches deep. Something smelled. But then again, now, something always smelled.

“She’s in there?” Andrew asked, with dismay. “Why wouldn’t she just run over to the shopping center as soon as it started to rain?”

Jamie turned to him. “It’s Annette, Andrew. I assume you know the girl by now, or you wouldn’t have asked her to marry you.”

Andrew had no answer to this. Annette was intelligent, neurotic, and completely bereft of common sense. She collected packaged pastries — Andrew’s apartment still held several hundred Twinkies, Snowballs, Ho-Hos, Ding Dongs, moon pies, and Little Debbie snack cakes that she’d acquired over the years. Some had held up better than others. The durability of a Honey Bun had to be seen to be believed. Anyway, Annette had a small but honed skill set that didn’t extend to survival in this new world.

They stood on the sidewalk for a moment, each attempting to devise a plot to get across the lot. Andrew crouched and looked at the standing water closest to him. “Maybe it hasn’t been long enough.”
 
Jamie made an irritated noise and scouted about for something to dip into the water. She considered breaking a branch off one of the trees in the grassy area beside them, but  she didn’t recognize all the leaves that were growing up through the bushes and around the tree branches, so she didn’t want to risk it. Instead, she sighed and removed her belt.
 
“Oh, don’t do that,” Andrew said, when he saw that she meant to dip the end in the puddle.

“I can always get another one at Gap,” Jamie said, sarcastically.

Andrew shook his head. “I meant your pants might fall down and I’d have to see things I really didn’t want to.”

Jamie said, “I should just push you in and then I’d know. I could use your body as a bridge.”

Andrew was too distracted to hear her threat, however. He was looking, pensive, at the glass front of the convenience store. “If she’s in there, why is she not waving or something?”

Jamie could think of several reasons, some harmless and some the opposite of harmless, but she kept them all to herself. She crouched next to Andrew and dipped the end of her belt into the water. The tip of the belt parted the pollen that floated on the surface. Jamie counted three and then lifted it back out again. They peered in to look at the result. Andrew said, “Gilded” at the same time that Jamie said, “Skunked.” This made Jamie thought that Andrew watched too many of those commercials that had piano music, soft focus, and drug names plastered in the corner. Andrew thought that Jamie read too many left-wing periodicals.

Regardless, both names meant the same thing: A thin layer of slime clung to the end of the belt, and in the nearly transparent gel, small green and yellow parasites milled and spun, working their way into the leather of the belt.

Andrew looked back to the parking lot, at the thirty feet of puddles, full of barely visible parasitic swimmers. Jamie thought he was probably thinking that he didn’t really love Annette that much, was too young to die, and that he’d ruin his shoes. Which was an unfair statement as only one bit of it was true.

“The car,” Jamie said, finally.

Andrew, after a pause, said, “I’d rather have Annette. You can keep the car. Also, you can have her sugar collection and weekend visitation rights. I can be reasonable.”

“I’m always stunned at how funny you think you are,” Jamie said. “I meant we could get in the car and drive it to the store. We’d have to go up over the bank and we’d have to both get out on the same side, but we could drive through all this if we’re slow and don’t splash. You’d have to mind that you don’t get wet.”

“Me?” Andrew looked at Jamie and made a little pincer motion with his fingers. “How about you?”

Jamie had to admit that both options were not pleasant. As they went back for the Escort, she felt a faint prickle of irritation at the rest of the world, for the news with its images of tidy, dry cities — albeit it far more empty ones — out on the west coast. Bright, upbeat reporters told the world that the economy was picking back up after the epidemic and that the leader singer of Shimmer had just begun a new clothing line that was expected to be a hit. Then they’d cut to a commercial for a four piece chicken meal with fries — feed your family fast! While here on the east coast they were being forced to travel with guns and check puddles with sticks.

It was Jamie who drove the Escort through the lot. Although the threat to Andrew was more immediate, she just didn’t trust him to be able to control the speed with those pointy shoes on the pedals. And in the end, it was uneventful. A slow, creeping progress across the lot, and then parking in the shade of the awning, front tire scrubbed against the sidewalk.

“I’ll get out first,” Andrew said. “I’d rather not get another look at your ass.” He climbed cautiously out onto the sidewalk, stepping well clear of the car. Jamie followed.  Andrew cautiously called Annette’s name and Jamie found herself oddly and irritatingly touched. He used a different voice when he thought Annette might hear; one that seemed less prone to chesty laughs.

Jamie and Andrew went into the convenience store at nearly the same time — there was a bit of a fight to see who would go in first, and neither won — but Jamie was the first one to discover the arm.

It was deeply tanned and wearing a sweat-stained t-shirt sleeve. Presumably the rest of the body still had the rest of the shirt. It was also the source of much of the smell.

“Andrew,” Jamie said. “Something has been eating here.”

Andrew pointed the rifle at the arm as if he thought it might be a threat. “Man?”

Jamie’s expression was withering. Of course it was a man. All the mutilated corpses were men. The parasites in standing water killed men immediately. And then, dead or alive, men made good meals for the Skunkers.

“Something else has been eating,” Andrew said then, in an entirely different voice. His rifle was pointed down toward the aisle, where boxes of Ho-hos and Zebra Cakes and Strawberry Rolls were torn open. He poked one of the wrappers with one of his long toed shoes. “Annette?” he said.

Jamie thought, suddenly, that it was probably better to not call Annette’s name.

But it was too late, because there she was. She stood in the front doorway they’d just entered by. Her arms and face were battered. Where the skin on her arm was torn, pus dribbled out, bubbling with green and gold swimmers. Her eyes were full of it. She was eyeing Andrew with hunger and Jamie with calculation.

Annette had been Jamie’s best friend for more than a decade, but Jamie didn’t hesitate. “Shoot her, Andrew.”

“I can’t,” Andrew said. They backed up together, shoulder to shoulder, toward the counter.
 
Jamie snapped, “You pussy.”

“No really,” said Andrew. He tapped the trigger. “I can’t. It’s stuck.”
 
And Annette advanced toward them still, slow, lazy. She’d made a meal off whatever was attached to the sweat-stained arm and was still metabolizing it. For a Skunker, she still looked good — she must have turned into one not too long ago. Unlike men, who died instantly and painfully at the touch of contaminated water, women underwent a slightly longer — but no less painful — process when they were infected. Then, they had only two missions: eat. And: infect. Depending on what your gender was. The only positive was that the Skunkers were not cunning.

Jamie reached over and undid the safety on the rifle. Andrew made a face — his nostrils flared, but Jamie could forgive him for that at this point — and pulled off a shot. It neatly took out a standing display rack of Frito-Lay products. Annette didn’t flinch. Pus dripped from her arm onto the floor. Green and gold particles scattered from the drop, wiggling to find water before they died.

Andrew said, “Jamie, watch–”

Jamie froze. The counter behind them was covered with open bottles and glasses of water. Her eyes swept the store and she realized that every surface was covered with open bottles of water. It took her a long moment to realize that it was a booby-trap waiting to happen.

Jamie turned to look at her best friend, just as Annette threw a bottle of water in Jamie’s face. Green and gold burrowed into the fabric of Jamie’s shirt. It was that moment when you smash your leg on the coffee table and realize that in two minutes it’s going to hurt, a lot.

Andrew looked from Jamie to Annette, and he laughed his chesty laugh that Jamie now saw was the one he used when he didn’t really find things funny.

“This is fantastic. Now we’re all going to die. She always did like you better than me,” he said, and he aimed the rifle.  

Which was slightly unfair, as only one of the statements was true.

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Story originally posted July 14, 2010.

Image by Jenny_Downing.

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This story was right in the middle of when I was really studying 3rd person for Raven Cycle purposes. This is also the last of the stories from Merry Sisters of Fate that I’m reposting before The Anatomy of Curiositycomes out next week.

crush alert!

ahorrorstorycircle:

Americanhorrorstory aired for the first time 10 years ago.

Lesli Grossman as Ursula on the set of “American Horror Story: Red Tide.”