We got back into the car. I was uneasy -- perhaps from fully realizing everything that went on below the already ugly surface. The woman's reaction had left me cold -- I don't know if she was aware that the game is always rigged, but... even then, unless you really trust Andrei, you can only know he'll get the result he wants -- but not which result it is. And, can you ever trust him?
The car was warm from sitting in the sunlight, and so we both took off our jackets. I realized what a mess I was -- the jacket partly covered the blood-stained shirt, but once gone... shit. I looked around, distracted. If some cops were to see us... well, let's hope not.
Andrei shattered the silence. "Are you okay, Sandy?"
I sighed. "I'm fine." No, I wasn't. I was still thinking of the woman -- of her reaction. How she hadn't tried to fight, or anything, just accepted her fate. It was heartbreaking.
He patted his thigh. "No, you're not. Come here. Come sit with me."
"That's cheating."
"So what. Come here, I know you want to."
I did. The wheel dug into my ribs, but I ignored it, focusing on feeling his warmth. I leaned against the door and looked at him like an idiot. He was in the shadow, but the bright day somehow shone into his eyes -- it was like looking up at the sky, with the sun shining brightly, blinding you, yet you couldn't possibly tear your eyes away from it.
He let his hand rest on top of mine. "Tell me. Why do you care so much, Sandy."
I wanted to close my eyes, forget his and tell him he would never understand. But I didn't find the words, nor the courage to look away. "I don't know."
"Let go, Sandy. You're here because you want. But you have to let go of all that nonsense, realize that you like all this."
I sighed, finally closing my eyes. I felt dizzy. I leaned on him, kinda letting go -- at least of the part of me that screamed at me to run away. No, I couldn't. Yet I also couldn't give up. A man was dead for being an idiot -- but that wasn't the worse. That woman was probably living her dream -- except it was a nightmare. How many more? How about myself? I had been telling myself that this was a dream -- but aren't nightmares dreams too?
I was in a sort of a trance, not really realizing what I was doing -- I had taken out a knife and was softly pressing it against my wrist. I froze when his hand grabbed mine -- gently, caring. I couldn't tear my eyes away from it.
"Don't do that." He rolled up his sleeve, offering his forearm. "Here. I'm here for you. Let me help."
I couldn't. I mean, I knew well it was nothing. Just a silent scream, a flash of light in the darkness of my mind. A glass of water in an endless desert -- it wouldn't make a difference. But I couldn't hurt him. I stared at his wrist, his other hand holding mine.
"You need to cut something, here I am." His voice was soft, friendly. Nothing eerie about it. Yet it paralyzed me.
No, I can't, I thought. "Why." I managed to say, a whisper barely audible in the noise of the city.
He smiled, warmth filling his eyes. "You know why. I want to help. I want you to realize what you're doing." He gently moved my hand 'till the edge was right on his forearm. "Don't worry about me, Sandy. We both know this is nothing."
I couldn't. But he wouldn't have it, so he firmly guided my hand -- the sharp blade slicing deep into his flesh, blood soon rushing to answer the call. He'd gone deep, slicing a couple major arteries, so he was bleeding quite a lot. I tried to grab it and try to slow down the blood rushing out. He stopped me. "Don't."
"It's bleeding badly, Andrei, we gotta--"
"Let go, Sandy. I'll be fine, trust me. Just look at it."
I stared at it. It was dizzying but also mesmerizing. Blood pouring out, painting everything in red. I couldn't help running my hand through it -- feeling its warmth, it's coppery smell.
He pushed me further. "How does it feel."
I managed to close my eyes for a second. "It's not the same. It's not enough." I said, softly clutching to his bloody hand, to my own insanity.
"You want me to help?" He took the knife and further rolled up my sleeve, making sure it was held in place, his other hand holding mine.
"Yes. Do it."
Of course he had to take the slow route. The knife dug into my flesh, slicing it open -- I had to clench my teeth, it hurt a lot but I wasn't going to make a sound. My eyes glued on my forearm the whole time, the sight of so much blood and the heat made me dizzy -- more than I already was.
The knife fell with a muted thud. I was frozen, I couldn't tear my eyes from his. I couldn't say anything.
So he did. "Better?"
"I don't know. I... it hurts. It's bleeding a lot. I..."
"You'll be fine, don't worry. Just feel it. Isn't that what you wanted? Pain? To get hurt?"
Shit, he was good with words. I nodded.
"Let go, Sandy. Feel it. Take in the pain and realize that it's not about that -- it's about the blood, isn't it?"
Yeah. Shit.
"You are what you are, boy. Let go of the nonsense." He softly brushed my cheek with his bloody hand. "Feel it."
Oh, did I feel it. I closed my eyes and let my mind wander as he kept petting me, softly, lovingly. Painting everything in red. The warm blood soon getting cool, leaving that wet feeling all over. Mi mind dizzy, not only 'cause the trance but 'cause my own blood loss. It wasn't that much, but enough to be noticeable.
"Feel it, Sandy. Look at yourself. Let go. Let go of everything. You like this. You could go away but you won't."
"I can't," I mumbled.
"You can -- you don't want to. Yet you keep holding to your nonsense. Let go. Give up your soul, it has no place in this hell, Sandy." There was no creepy grin, no sign of the Void in his eyes, only a friendly smile. He was sincerely trying to help.
I couldn't think anymore, my mind lost in the middle of a gleaming sea. "Are you the devil?"
He didn't try to hide a smirk. "Are you afraid of going to hell?" He paused, waiting for a reaction to his joke. "You know it's all nonsense, Sandy. We're already in hell. Let go."
I hugged him, trying to drown in his chest, his heartbeat a raging, distant storm. He was right. I had to let go. I had to give up. I had chosen this, and there was no denying that. I could go, I knew I could -- technically. As in, he'd let me. But I couldn't. I couldn't leave him. Even if he was the devil himself.
"Let go, Sandy. Look at me."
I shifted back to meet his eyes again. And I dived into them. "Take me," I whispered.
"Give up your soul. Give up on yourself. Let go."
"Take me."
"Say it. Your soul."
I took a deep breath, briefly closing my eyes just to meet his again an instant later -- and drown in them. "Take my soul. Take everything. Don't let me go."
He hugged me, taking my breath away. "I won't let you down. I'll never leave you, Sandy."
I had another mind trip, helped by the blood loss and the difficulty of breathing under his vice-like grip. I lay there, in his arms, motionless. It felt like death -- knowing that rebirth lies just a step ahead.
But he let go after a while, shifting me aside so I could drown again in the sea. "Now, time for work. What are you willing to do."
I was still trippy and dizzy, so I had to force the smile, but I had made up my mind. "Just ask."
"Say it, Sandy."
Now my grin was somewhat natural. "You know I'll do anything and everything you ask."
He smirked happily. "Well, I have a job for you, but I can't drive with you on my lap, you know."
I shifted around, hauling myself onto the copilot's seat. Letting go of his warmth. Knowing well that the road to hell was a rough one, but that he'd take my hand to lead me there.
