It was another vague landscape packed with odd buildings and persons walking by, faces a blur. Just another dream I would forget the instant I awoke, but I enjoyed the sleep while I could have it. It didn’t matter that it was seven below outside; tucked inside these sheets I could withstand an ice age. Tucked in these sheets as I child I was safe from witches, goblins and all manner of monsters my mind could conjure. That two hundred thread count was magic, I’d swear.
And maybe it was the horror flick I watched before I fell asleep, happening to be the only thing half decent at one in the morning, but my sleep was that much more shallow this evening. That’d explain why when the crash echoed up the stairs these eyes slowly blinked. When a creak followed it up, I shot to an upright seat. My hands hurriedly rubbed away the sleep from my eyes that burned. They wanted to drift away, roll back into my head, but paranoia twinged at my ears.
I sat in the cold dark for a minute waiting for a sound; nothing. I wanted to pull those covers back up to my chin and reason it away in whatever fashion, I hadn’t yet decided, but there it was: the sound of footsteps.
Oh how my heart rate spiked! Nerves were firing uncontrollably. Leaning over the side of my bed I grabbed that baseball bat strategically placed always within a panicked reach, and thought to myself, ‘What unfortunate bastard was foolish enough to break into my home?’
I had pictured this scenario several times in the past. Crime in this lazy city wasn’t talked about, but was always present. Its boarders filled with those who stole because it was easier than getting a job, those that stole just because they could get away with it. For the most part it was limited to shoplifting and auto theft. It would take a particularly brazen knave to enter a home. Smash and grab the strategy I was primed to disrupt – a baseball bat upside the skull to make them rue the eve they stepped into my house.
Like a dart I made it out of my room and bounded down those stairs in a speed just shy of slipping. The main floor was dully lit by the street lamps that never slept, but it was still dark enough that I knew the home field advantage was mine. I walked, no, stalked down the hallway, my head on a swivel. The nearer I drew to my expectant encounter the more the hair on my bare chest stood at attention. I entered into the living room to see the door wide open and scattered pieces of glass haphazardly cast about. I then shifted to see the perpetrator, a sight I shall not soon forget.
Before me stood a girl who, to hazard a guess, would be all of twenty years of age. To say this was not what I expected would be an understatement. I stared at her, blinking intermittently, expecting this mirage to change to some straggly haired male teen, to no avail. She just stood there. Her shoulder length blond hair covered a good deal of what I hoped I could gather from her eyes, her face unremarkable. She was the girl we had all passed several times in a day and never gave thought to, never registering her simple existence.
It wasn’t until I glanced further down her arms to know I stood before a monster. The glint of the metal in her hands had me swallowing hard. ‘So that was where your confidence stemmed from.’ My hands unclenched and let the bat fall with a muted thud to the carpet, no match for a gun.
“Just take what you want,” my plea. Oh, why hadn’t I bothered to call the cops before this attempt at bravery? “Anything you want. Just put that away.”
It was when her lips parted to grinning teeth that the tension hit me. With her first step, I don’t know what it was, but I panicked. I turned to rush back up stairs and lock myself away and wait for her to leave. ‘I could get up those stairs faster than she could follow me. I just want to get somewhere safe,’ I thought.
On my heels I pivoted and took that first stride to safety, but something wasn’t right. As I saw the ground inching closer to my face I knew I had blew it. I had tripped over that damned bat. I didn’t see the wall before my head slapped against it.
Black.
With a lugged roll my head shifted to gaze with blurred eyes at that white ceiling. How had I let it get so dusty? The waking image you cannot think to question until moments after, but the questions came fast. ‘Why was I not in my bed? Why is it so cold? What did I do to my head?’
Curious hands rubbed slowly over my forehead to discover a welt and certain sore point. No blood, but pain just the same. I perched myself upon my elbow as I slowly made my way to an upright seat. The late winter winds whistled through the open door and licked my face, reminding me of exactly how it was I got here. From my seat I scanned the room, wondering what was missing: Nothing, but the frail feminine spectre that spooked me here.
‘What else would she bother taking?’ The most expensive item I had was the 37” flat screen that still hung on the wall. I didn’t carry much cash if she would even guess where to look for it. Who knows what she could have done in the time I was out. ‘How long was I out?’
Driven by the need to know what still lingered of this encounter I gained my footing and began exploring my home. The kitchen was undisturbed, and while I thought I would grab the butcher’s knife I knew it would serve for not if I found myself once more on the action end of the firearm again.
The basement door was shut over, its knob not twisted since I closed it hours prior. Still I wanted to check every inch, as if what I saw before was a mouse with certain infestation of others like the rodent. It was cool, dank and mess: just as I had left it. But chills were sent down my spine when I heard from two stories higher a giggle.
I hadn’t known if it belonged to the same, only hearing but a quite grin from before, but I knew it did not belong to a friend. It was in my bedroom, and I didn’t want to know what enticed such response. The best way I could see this end was to run out into the streets, through the backyards and into the wild night. So I began up those steps and through the doorway.
The path to the street was scattered with shards of glass to test my testament to escape this situation. They cut into bare feet and I was just a few seconds away from the security the night could cover me with. Less than three seconds from abandoning house and home and gun-toting knave, but from down a clear shot of the hallway came a sterling voice.
“Where are you going?” Such a simple question froze me to stand still on splinter feet. The pain of it was only further multiplied by me inability to react. I wished to just lash back and eliminate this torment.
A hiss of displeasure was my response.
“Oh, come here. You are bleeding,” she ordered. Her voice was a mixture of compassion and authority. I could have stood not knowing that I was bleeding.
I turned back to her, to see her holding a photo album cradled in her arms of which she discarded onto the kitchen table as she walked past. With outstretched arms she offered to guide me back across the glass peril. And with as much civility as I could muster in that moment, I declined and exhaled in a grunt with each step back. On the final I once again lost footing for a moment.
She did what she could to control my fall to the ground, but her efforts amounted to little against the force of gravity. Once safely back on a horizontal she passed over me and around to my legs. With tender hands she pulled free each shard.
“Who are you?” the question I wanted answered first.
“Do you not remember me?” her offer, not looking away from the first aid she plied to my feet.
I racked this aging brain. Funny how just a few years in this business could make everything just a touch foggy inside my mind. Having travelled so very much in recent times I could not even narrow this search to location. If I lied in this situation I am certain that I would be entering into a game I have yet to fully understand. “No.”
“Hmm… Maybe if I didn’t have a top on that would jog your memory.” It was a reply I was not expecting and could only swallow at. “No? Think I would just go away if you ignored me?”
“Woman, what are you talking about?’
“I am talking about how you lead me on. How you promised that if I,” her voice trailed. I could here the regret overtop of the anger of it. “I wonder how many girls you tried that little trick on.”
“I tell you I have no… ow!” She twisted the last and stood to tower over me for the rest of this conversation. “I have no idea what you are talking about. I certainly know that I haven’t seen you without your… decency.”
“I suppose you will tell me that you don’t even have a MySpace account,” she gave me the first bit of real information in this exchange.
MySpace? Was I visited by this demon for the sake of an impostor? Some little twerp that could only find popularity by telling other online liars they were some D-list celebrity. “MySpace?”
“Are sure that is the defence you want to go with?”
“Child, do you want me to lie? To tell you that you were not taken advantage of, that you allowed yourself to be taken advantage of by even more of a stranger than you intended? No, I do not have an account.” Despite my best performance with confident wording I recoiled to a ball, arms around curled knees.
“I… no… but you can’t. You told me we were soul mates.” Her dainty face was becoming more twisted with confusion with each syllable. I worried she would rather stick to her fantasy than the unkind truth with which I spoke. “We are soul mates.”
“I am a man with cut feet and possibly a concussion. You are a scared little girl with a gun. I do not see soul mates here.” My hand covered my face to hide the growing depression. A sense of hopelessness descended upon me.
As the room reached an awkward silence I tried to gain my feet. The pain pulsing throughout my body betrayed my will to stand. Did she see the grimace on my face?
Taking me in her arms she held me close enough to smell the strawberry shampoo still in her hair. Gentle tears sobbed over my shoulder and I thought she had recognized her error. That was until she whispered, “we are soul mates.” It was at that moment that I felt the cold touch of the gun metal on my back.
I should have run.
Pulling me closer to the centre of the room she began to spin slowly. And so we swayed in circles dancing to a song only she could hear. My friends, I have danced with the devil in the pale moonlight.
‘If I get out of this I swear I will get a dog.’
“I am sorry,” I offered, my humble condolences for whatever it was that she was thinking of as we came to a rest.
“Kiss me,” she said as she lifted herself far enough away to lock those emerald eyes with my own. “Kiss me,” again. “If we are not soul mates, I will tell right away,” her response to my hesitation. “What is the harm in one kiss?” she coaxed me.
She leaned in and I simply closed my eyes. Truth be told I was not practiced at this at all. The last time I remember anyone stealing a kiss was in innocence as a young child. But she didn’t seem to care to ask. When she nibbled at my lower lip I wanted to give myself to anything that might give me hope of escaping this, but could I ever? How would I escape if who I am died walking over broken glass? Who would I be at the end of this?
“I told you,” soft lips spoke into my ear, “there is no harm in one kiss.” So he did exist outside of my own head, outside of the pages of scripture and into my home. How dare Satan visit me in this way.
“No. No,” incoherently I mumbled. This was not right and she was far from her self I could gather. By the crucifix around my neck I was lead to the couch. As the chain was broken and fell to the floor I was laid down. And from there he straddled my chest and leaned in again to force another kiss. For it was with the kiss that he betrayed himself. “No,” forever and once more.
When her face pulled away it had changed to more clearly reflect his. The blond leapt off sensing my displeasure with the entire ongoings. “Who is she?”
“What?” my subtle reply. From there it proceeded to devolve into a sideshow of horror. I gazed in stunned amazement as this makeshift monster ripped through the room. I could do nothing but watch in fear as she came completely unglued.
‘Make this a dream.’
Babbling as she battled with the demon she christened my walls with a broken flower vase. “Who is she? You don’t even want to touch me and I am throwing myself at you. Who are you holding out for?”
“No one. I… the only girls I love are my mother and goddaughter.” She didn’t take my honesty with kindness. Refusing to see what it was about this hostage life that didn’t appeal to me she pointed the gun toward me, implying that I had further truth still to be told. “Hey! Hey, put that down. I am not lying to you. Honest, I am,” I paused to continue, “I am a virgin.”
And with pity they laughed at me in her soft giggle. ‘Were you so surprised that we still existed, Lucifer?’
And the die had been cast. Having watched too many episodes of Criminal Minds I knew how this was going to end. One of us would leave with a serious need for psychiatric help; the other one had a date with the mortuary. He would not be happy if both lives were left with any hope of redemption. Salvation lay at the grip of that handgun and I began to plot the path to it.
I bided my time before she let the gun slide to her side and began to make her way back to me. My opening came and I took it, happy to use my size finally. Lunging toward the unaware girl I buried my shoulder into her stomach and ripped away the gun with my right hand and I crashed through her onto the opposing couch. The gun fell halfway across the room.
Stumbling over myself I made earnest with my attempt to gain control of this situation, but I was in too much of a hurry. He was on top of me fighting to take it back before I had a firm grip. We tugged for position before coming to a stand.
To her nimble fingers I lost control of the trigger, but was more than strong enough to turn the barrel away. Away from myself, I didn’t really know where it was pointing. Maybe if she’d had felt it pressed to her belly she’d give up the gun. ‘Please give up that gun.’
It felt like Hellfire as the bullet in the chamber leapt. The sound echoed loud and rang in my ears. Smells of burnt gun powered and burnt flesh wafted to my nostrils. It made me want to puke. It sapped me of all my strength and we fell in a heap, blood pouring as we went.
Why did she pull that trigger? Why did he make her pull that trigger?
I had no time to gather my bearings, if I was to defeat him I had to act quickly.
“Shit, shit, shit. Okay, just stay still,” I said as I pressed the blanket off the couch to her stomach. It wasn’t long before it soaked through and dampened my hand. It spilt over and to the floor and stained my soul forever.
“I wanted to be a princess,” she started. “When I was a little girl all I wanted was to be a princess, live with a prince in a castle. Do you think there will be castles in heaven?” coughing out each last word with an increasing struggle to draw breath.
“Shh… yeah. I bet that you will have the best castle you could dream of,” I lied. “But that will have to wait. I need to you stay strong. We are going to get through this. I just need you to hold this. I’m going to go call an ambulance. Just hold this tight.”
The call was quick and confusing. With a rushed hurry I asked for an ambulance to this place and then promptly hung up the phone. By the time I got back to her side, I could see the life fading from those green eyes. This is not how it needed to be.
“Tell… tell my mother I love her.” The fatality with the words she choose was apt, but far from what I wanted to hear at this point. I had no interest in taking notes of a dying girl’s last word.
“You will tell her yourself. Just,” I stopped battling back the tears I refused to show my weakness. “Hail Mary,” I went into the rosary waiting for the paramedics to arrive. My prayers that the ambulance and police would be there soon were answered.
The men in uniform rushed in and pushed me away from the withering girl. I didn’t even know her name. While three went to work on her, one man walked over to me. “Sir, what has happened here?”
“I... I can’t breath,” my response. ‘I don’t deserve to take these breaths.’
“Sir, just breathe slowly. In and out, that’s good. Now please just tell me what has happened here.”
So with laboured thoughts I got it out of my mouth, “The girl broke in. I knocked the gun away. We struggled to take control. She pressed the trigger and then,” my words trailed as I watch the team of three lift her onto a stretcher and out the door she had came in. I signed a cross in her direction and dove into my own thoughts. I backed to the wall and slid down. With my head between my knees I shut out the calamity of sirens and lights and the blood on my hands. For a moment there I was numb to everything.
“Son? Son?” spoke a man in a different uniform. With a bigger build and a sterner face than those paramedics, this was an officer. “We are going to have to ask you what happened here.”
“I just told that guy,” I pointed without looking to the ambulance not yet away to the hospital.
“Son, I am going to have to ask you to come downtown so we can get your sworn statement. This really isn’t an option.”