A Little Piece of Heaven

The white plastered walls in Jack Bennett’s Chicago loft were whispering.

Or so it seemed to Jack. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Jack cleared his throat. Strings of saliva flew from his tonsils to the backs of his teeth. This scraping, scratching, whispering bounced off his eardrums and he felt the sound reverberate in his chest. Yet no matter how many times he cleared his throat, the rapping continued. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Jack nervously shifted his weight as he sat at his new mahogany dining table. Right leg crossed. Left leg crossed. Right leg crossed again. Jack was staring at an image in the freshly white painted wall adjacent from where he sat at the table. She was tall and shapely, long brown curls that framed her round face and emerald eyes. Jack felt like he’d seen this woman before, yet told himself he didn’t know her. But she was beautiful. He saw her then, etched into the plaster like a ghostly silhouette. The tapping of his knee against the bottom of the table as his leg shook with anxiety caused a steady beat to match his heart, and the ticking of the clock that counted down the seconds until that heart of his would beat no longer. He knew the ticking would never stop. The ticking and tapping and beating. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

The eleven eerie chimes echoed down the empty street from the church on the corner and told Jack that it was time for him to go to work. At twenty eight years old, Jack Bennett was a third shift factory manager. His waking hours were those in which most people were nestled; sound asleep, safe in the confinements of their plush white comforters, clutching their suede pillows. Jack abandoned his untouched meal and shoved his feet into the worn steel toed leather boots. He was still in his work clothes from his shift the night before. He hadn't slept in forty eight hours and he hadn't showered in thirty six. His dirty blonde hair stood up in the back and his face held the grease of three work nights. Jack Bennett had a strong jaw, a lean build, and narrow icy blue eyes. It was a shame that he smelled like a rotting corpse.

Jack’s heavy footsteps echoed down the concrete steps and he suddenly felt self-conscious. Every slam of his boot in the empty stairwell seemed to sound on each floor. With each step the squeak in his right boot got louder and louder. Bare, dirty walls and the stench of mildew and dust crept up his nostrils and forced him to sneeze. He wiped the contents of his nasal passage on the back of his sleeve. When Jack finally pushed open the door he was met by the frigid October air. It was always seemed cold in Chicago. The sun could be at its highest point in the sky – still, it felt cold to Jack. Even the luminescent oranges and reds and yellows, when shown through the emerald, lush green of the fall trees did nothing to brighten the dark corners of his mind. The rich, deep colors of the fresh leaves reminded him of something. The only time he ever felt warm was when… Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

Jack whipped his head around frantically. It was following him. It sounded like fingernails scraping against the walls of his mind. He clutched his hair in his dirty hands and picked up his pace, walking the thirty minutes to work. The crisp, late autumn air invaded the openings in his shirt and sent gooseflesh up his back. He rounded the second corner and was too preoccupied with the scratching to notice the figure standing in front of him. With a thud, he clipped shoulders with a homeless man. Jack mumbled something that may have resembled an apology to anyone who was able to understand him, but the sound came out rude and menacing.

“Easy there, stranger.” The man said in a raspy voice, a product of one too many cigarettes.

“Easy, indeed.” Jack snorted sarcastically.

Jack looked the homeless man over. He wore a pair of ripped overalls with no shirt underneath. His face was barely dirtier than Jacks and he had long gray hair, tied into a knot in the back. What Jack noticed, though, was the scar – running from the top of the middle of his forehead, to the end of his right eyebrow. The scar was at least an inch thick. Jack stared at the old man.

“Don’t let that old thing scare you.” The old man coughed. His eyes focused on Jack. “Plenty more where that came from.”

“Me?” Jack asked self-consciously. “I have no scars.” He snapped in a defensive tone.

Jack shifted anxiously on his feet and his eye twitched impatiently as he stared at the sidewalk ahead. He needed to keep going or he would be late for work.

“Those are some nasty scars you have there, stranger.”

The homeless man ignored Jack’s words, clicked his tongue, and laughed. The gesture revealed four blackened, decayed teeth and the stench of malt liquor no doubt acquired over at least a few decades worth of time.

“What?” Jack looked down and he noticed blood dripping down his wrist. He pulled up the sleeve to find long, deep gashes down the length of his forearm. The wounds were fresh and they burned. His face contorted into a look of horror and he glanced back up to the man who had already disappeared into the night. The sound of drunken cackling echoed from around the corner, fading into silence. When he set his attention back to his exposed arm, the gashes were gone, leaving only faint scratches in their place. Jack kicked over the man’s empty forty ounce bottle and it cracked, showering the street corner with brown shards of glass.

“Crazy old man…” Jack muttered to himself. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes furiously.

When Jack arrived at the factory at seven to twelve, he was twenty three minutes late. The site manager shot him a cold glare as he carelessly walked into the building. The smell of grease and sweat automatically hit Jack as he looked around at all of the large metal press machines. That wasn’t what bothered him. What bothered him was a scent he’d never experienced there before; a scent that had recently taken residence in his apartment. There was a rotten cloud of smoke lingering in the air around him, it danced expertly around his senses and crept carefully, like a snake coiling around a rabbit. It wrapped around his mouth and nose, causing him to choke. Jack balled his fist and coughed into it, trying to use the back of his hand to mask the stench. A nearby worker gave him an odd look as he seemed to be unaffected by the phantom smell of something rotting. Jack continued on to the office.

Once inside, he sat carefully into the broken red chair. He moved slightly to get comfortable and the wobbly chair leg shook with the threat of toppling over. Jack put his elbows onto the desk and ran his hands over his face, trying to wake his mind up. With his eyes still closed, he reached with one hand to the drawer on the far right. The cheap green paint was chipping off of the decaying old wooden desk. Jack had gotten splinters from it more times than he could count. He proceeded to pull out his paper work when a sudden chill made him jump. The manila folder dropped from his hands, causing papers to rain down onto the greasy floor of the office. Jack was suddenly cold. Even for October in Chicago, it never got this cold. Jack left the papers scattered and rubbed his hands together, trying to savor his body heat. He looked up at the temperature gauge above the door. It was seventy degrees inside the building. Jack’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“That can’t be right…” He muttered to himself.

Jack looked down, startled. He could see his own breath. He let out a deep sigh and saw his breath come out in a cloud of smoke, as if he was breathing in the middle of a snow storm. The chills that raised the hairs on his arms seemed to spread up to his neck. He gave a little shiver and looked around the room. The paranoid feeling was coming back. He felt like he was being watched.
Jack laid his head on the desk, small pieces of wood prickling at his arms. He concentrated on clearing his mind. He didn’t trust his thoughts. He would get some sleep and everything would go back to normal. No more hallucinations. No more weird smells. No more scratching.

The phone rang.

Jack stared at the office phone. He looked at the caller ID and the number showed up as several zeros.

The phone continued to ring.

Jack continued to ignore it. He put his head back down.

The phone didn’t stop ringing. It went on for over five minutes. Jack groaned, annoyed. He finally picked up the receiver.

“What?” He scolded the person on the other end. And by “what,” he really meant, “fuck off.”

Static.

“Hello?” Jack asked impatiently.

The phone rang for all that time and now nobody was going to say anything? He was getting angry.

“Hello!”

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

The receiver continued to pour static into Jack’s ear.

“Right. Have a good fuckin’ night.” Jack mumbled and slammed the receiver down with too much force.

Everything in this place was old. The phone was attached to the fax machine and the copier. When he slammed down the receiver, the top half disconnected from the bottom half, revealing wires and microchips.

“Great.” Jack sighed.

He ripped the cord from the wall, lifted the piece of junk and dropped it into the tin wastebasket with an awful sound like cracking thunder. He set his head back down and tried to sleep once more. He would deal with that later.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Jack froze.

He kept his head lowered and didn’t open his eyes. He had lost it, Jack thought to himself.

The ringing got louder.

Jack went pale and a look of shock shadowed his face. He slowly lifted his head and looked into the wastebasket. The caller ID showed several zeros as the mangled phone continued to ring. He looked around the room cautiously, watching his breath in the cold air as it escaped his lips. He got to his feet and stood towering over the broken phone in the trash can.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Jack reluctantly bent down and picked up the receiver. This time he didn’t say anything. He just listened. The static never came. In fact, the other end was completely silent. No scratching. No static. Nothing. He swallowed hard.

“Hello?”

Faintly, there was something in the background. It was a voice but Jack couldn’t quite understand what it was saying. Jack knelt down to the floor and took the receiver in both hands. He held it to his ear hard, trying to make out the sound. But the voice on the other end wasn’t speaking. Jack listened harder. It was a woman’s voice. That much he could tell. It sounded like she was singing. No, not singing. There were no words. She was humming. His fingers gripped the receiver so hard that his knuckles were turning white. His eyes held a crazy, far off look as he listened to the hauntingly beautiful melody swimming through the phone line and into his ear.

“Jack, you’re freezing!” Lilly laughed as she rubbed Jack’s tense arms. It was a lovely gesture, he thought to himself.

The sunlight reflected off of her tiny, perfect white teeth and her straight shoulders shook with each ripple of laughter. Lilly was the most beautiful girl Jack had ever seen. And he’s seen plenty of beautiful girls. If anyone else were to look at Lilly, they would say that she was plain. She didn’t wear makeup. She didn’t wear clothing that revealed her body. There was just something natural about those light brown curls and lush green eyes. She was the kindest person he had ever known. And Jack loved her.

“I’m always freezing.” Jack smirked as he took her in his arms and fell backwards, taking both of them to the ground.

He secured his arms around her waist and held her there against him. Her face was so close to his that he could see the small freckles on her nose. He kissed them as she closed her eyes and smiled.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Jack.” She replied.

The deep dimples in her cheeks made her look so bright. So happy. He put his hand into the back of her curls and brought her face to his. He kissed her with so much urgency. Jack couldn’t remember feeling a better moment in all of his life. She broke away from the kiss to look at him. Lilly took her fingers and brushed the soft blonde hair out of his eyes. He kissed her on her nose again playfully then sat back to look at her.

“You can’t leave me, okay?” Jack said.

A dark shadow moved over his eyes and he looked worried. But Lilly just smiled.

“I couldn’t if I tried.”

She wrapped her arms around his beautifully built torso. Lilly laid her head down onto Jack’s chest and sighed. Jack tightened his arms around her and laid his head down on the grass as he squint his eyes from the harsh sun. He listened to Lilly humming a melody she wrote for him on the piano. She always said that she wrote it to reflect Jack, the way his eyes reminded her of the luminescent blue of an early morning sky, and the way his hair shone gold like the first peak of sunlight.

Jack lay there now, holding his angel close to him, and let her song put him to sleep.

Jack gasped. He screamed out as he picked up the broken machine, and with all of his strength, sent it sailing through the office window. The crashing and breaking glass caused everybody to turn their attention to him. Jack looked wild. His hair was dirty, half matted down and half sticking up in every direction. His eyes were bloodshot and cold. He threw the phone but he still heard the song in his head. He pulled at his hair hard and fell into the brick wall. He slid down and crouched on his feet, his head buried in his hands as he tried to beat the sound out of his head.

“Jack!” The other manager called from the door.

Jack didn’t answer. He just held his head and shook on the floor. He didn’t even notice the man come in.

“Jack! What the hell has gotten into you?” The manager asked as he approached Jack. The older man put his hand on his shoulder. Jack’s face snapped up, surprised at the touch.

“Oh…”

Jack shook his head and looked around. The things in the room were beginning to materialize as he was being pulled from his delusion. He looked up at the older manager.

“Oh, shit. I’m… I’m sorry, Manny.” Jack slowly got up, supporting his weight with the wall. “I haven’t gotten much sleep and…” Jack struggled to explain but there was nothing he could say. He looked like a mess. He smelled bad. And now he had destroyed company property.

“Go home, Jack. Go get some sleep for Christ’s sake.” Manny shook his head and walked over to inspect the window.

Jack looked sullenly at the scene but did as he was told. Questioning eyes followed him the whole way out of the building.

He heard whispers.

“Do you think he’s gone crazy?”

“It’s probably drugs.”

“I’ll bet he’s an alcoholic. Did you smell the whisky on him?”

“He really let himself go.”

Jack ignored the hushed comments and forcefully pushed open the back door of the factory and let himself out.

Somehow the air had gotten crisper in the half hour he was inside of the factory. With every step he took, the squeak in his boot seemed to echo into the still night. Jack licked his cold lips and clicked his tongue inside of his dried up mouth. He needed a drink. What the hell had happened back there? Jack wondered. He must have hallucinated. He had heard somewhere that Sleep Deprivation did that to you. He would just drink himself to sleep and everything would be fine.

The Golden Horse was a sorry excuse for a bar. He especially liked the place because it was normally empty. The sign above the bar was frayed and rusted. Jack stopped in the threshold and looked up. G O L D E N H O R S E B A R. The sleazy blue fluorescent lights flickered on and off constantly. Jack continued to look up, now into the red eyes of the golden horse head which sat above the sign. For a minute, it seemed to be mocking him, judging him. Jack let out a hard laugh and stuck up his middle finger, flipping off the horse. The breath of his bitter laughter came out in a puff of smoke as the air around him became colder once again. He drew his eyebrows together in a worried expression as he stepped through the doorway and into the bar.

Jack fell into a stool at the middle of the bar. He extended his arms and relaxed back into the ripped black seat. The bartender was older, somewhere in his forties. He had grey scruff on his face and knowing grey eyes that looked at him quizzically.

“What’ll it be?” He asked as he used a towel to wipe down the top of the bar.

Jack didn’t answer right away. Instead he glanced around the bar, taking in his surroundings. There was a man, sitting alone, and a few seats over to his right. His face was buried in a leather-bound journal with two empty bottles of Budweiser in front of him. To his left, all the way at the end, Jack noticed two women. One was a larger woman in purple turtleneck sweater. She had short blonde hair and an obnoxious amount of purple eye shadow. The second woman made Jack stare longer than the others. She was short. Way shorter than the other two. She had long curly ginger hair and her face was littered with freckles in all of the right places. Her eyes were big, almond shaped. And they were green, not as green as… something. Jack couldn’t remember what he was comparing her to. She must have noticed him staring because he saw her blush and turn her head. At the very same moment he heard an impatient sound, the bartender with the grey scruff was clearing his throat. Jack didn’t turn his attention back to the bar.

“Jim Beam. Tall. No ice.” He said to the bartender coldly.

As the bartender delivered his drink, he took all of it in one large swallow. His eyes shifted to the left end of the bar where the women sat, giggling. They were staring at him. Jack was used to female attention. He knew that he was attractive, or at least he had the potential to be. His naturally high cheek bones and square jaw complimented his narrow eyes and shaggy blonde hair. In retrospect, he was beautiful. His lashes were thick and black, which somehow made the blue even more vibrant. It was obvious to Jack that he had caught the redheaded girl in his trap. He watched her shyly walk to the stool next to his, on his right side.

“H-Hi.” The ginger girl stammered as she gave him a small smile. “My name is Sarah.” Jack tilted his head slightly towards her but did not move his body. He looked her up and down. She was even shorter up close. But she was well developed. She wore a tight white tee shirt with blue jeans. Simple, Jack thought. It reminded him of someone. He could tell she was nervous by the way she rubbed her small fingers into her palms.

“Jack.” He replied.

He gave her a smile that showed his teeth. It was the smile of a predator, he knew. The beautiful structure of his body mixed with the expertise of his charm, Jack knew that he was dangerous. He could tell that Sarah knew it too. Even unwashed and sleep deprived, he looked like a demi-god. Jack felt a hunger as he undressed her with his eyes. He could imagine how she would look, stripped down naked and covered with freckles – tied to his bed. He felt something inside of his pants stir as he looked at her. Sarah shifted uncomfortably. “Can I get you anything?” Jack asked. The tone of his voice had changed completely from the way he had spoken to the bartender. The sound was velvet and musical, inviting.

“Jim and coke?” The girl asked meekly. He watched as her eyes traveled to his glass and up to the bottles on the shelves. She was trying to impress him.

“Lloyd!” Jack mocked rudely to the bartender with the grey scruff as he tended to the man with the leather-bound journal. “Jim and coke for the lady, got it?”

When he shifted his gaze from the bartender back to Sarah, he saw something out of the corner of his eye. It was a woman sitting a few seats down from the man with the leather-bound journal. She wore a blue sundress. His eyes noticed the flash of silk brown curls and his blood froze. He blinked and looked back in a panic but she was gone. Suddenly the events of the night opened up like a flood gate and he swallowed all of the salty water into his lungs. Jack couldn’t breathe. Sarah noticed the change in his demeanor and a look of concern crossed her fragile face. The bartender glared at Jack as he set down her drink. Sarah reached towards Jack and lightly touched his hand.

Jack saw the words “What’s wrong?” begin to form on Sarah’s lips.

“What’s wrong?” Lilly asked Jack as she reached across the table to hold his hand. “You haven’t been yourself lately.”

Tonight had been a big night for Jack. The planning and preparation that went into his big surprise had driven him mad in the last few months. Now that the time was finally here, his nerves were running wild. His leg was twitching from beneath the table and it rocked the red wine around in their glasses. The smell of honey baked ham and fresh gravy wafted around the small room. He had done all of this for her. He would have done anything for Lilly. He looked at her now; her long brown curls reached to the middle of her blue dress, concern wrinkled the smooth skin on her forehead. She was an angel. The weight of the box in his pocket trapped him in his seat. He wanted her. Forever. There was nothing that could ever keep them apart. He was going to make sure of it.

“I love you, Lilly.” Jack started.

His wobbly legs forced themselves up and carried him over to her. His hands shook as he revealed the glossy, square black box from his black khaki pants. He didn’t kneel. He knew that he was supposed to, but he didn’t trust his knees not to buckle beneath him.

“Marry me.” He whispered.

His hair was disheveled and his eyes were wild. He looked a complete mess. Lilly’s eyebrows drew together in disappointment. She sighed.

“Jack, come sit down.” She stood up and tried to direct him back into his chair. Jack’s breathing was erratic and his hands were shaking violently.

“I…” He breathed out. “No. I don’t want to sit.”

He shook his head. There was a look of scorn and anger in his eyes. He let out a small bitter laugh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked up at her very seriously.

“I want you to marry me, Lilly.”

“And I think it’s something that we should discuss.”

“Discuss!” He mocked into her face.

His voice became condescending and rage turned his face to a deep red. The smell of alcohol came out abundant in his breath as he hissed.

“What is there to discuss? You either want to marry me.” He glared at her. “Or you don’t.”

Jack looked dangerous. His beautiful features twisted, making him look like some sort of a beast. Jack was never good at handling pressure. He built so much around this night that the resignation had made him snap. Lilly jumped at his hostility. There was wetness on her cheeks. Jack’s eyes softened slightly and he reached his fingers out to wipe her tears. Lilly backed defensively away from his touch.

“I…” Lilly stammered. “I’m just not ready.”

She cautiously whispered as she subtly tried moving to the other side of the table, away from the unstable Jack.

“Jack... Just calm down.” Tears sprayed from her lips as she spoke. “Please.”

“After everything I’ve done for you.”

Jack flinched as she backed away as if she had struck him. His eyes were like icebergs. He gestured around the dining room.

“I did all of this for you!” He shouted at her.

The veins in his neck were bulging and his hands gripped the end of the table. In a fit of rage, he flipped the table over, the sound of wood cracking and plates shattering filled the building.

“It was all for you!”

Lilly screamed.

She ran for the door while Jack was recovering from the table flip. It didn’t take him very long to notice her as she grabbed the door handle. Jack swung around and grabbed Lilly by the waist with one arm and covered her mouth with his other hand. Lilly desperately tried to break free from his grip. She used her nails to scratch his right arm. She dug them deep and swiped. Jack let out a bellowing cry and switched his hand from her mouth to her throat. Lilly tried to scream but the only sound that escape was a sick gasp. Her bare feet kicked at the carpeted floor as he drug her to the bedroom.

“I told you, Lilly.” Jack started. His voice was void of any human emotion. “You can never leave me.” Jack threw Lilly on the bed and locked the door.

Jack cried out in agony as he smashed Sarah’s drink onto the bar top. Sarah shrieked as small pieces of glass and whiskey exploded. Jack threw himself off of the bar stool and hit the floor with a hard thud. The bartender emerged from behind the bar with a baseball bat and a look of strict assertion on his face.

“Get the hell out of my bar.” The man pointed the bat and threatend Jack. It seemed like this man wanted an excuse to give him a good whack since he first walked in.

Jack blinked several times, making sure he was really in the bar. He looked around but there was no sign of the woman with the brown curls.

Jack didn’t remember the walk back to his loft. He remembered the feeling of cool concrete on his back as he laid on the bar floor, and now he felt the cool of the door handle as he entered his building. As Jack was walking up the stairs he was met by a neighbor, an elderly woman, taking out her small Yorkshire Terrier. He listened as she muttered to herself.

“Rotten is what it is, Marcie.” She spoke to the dog. “Rotten. Rotten. Rotten.” She shook her head. “A raccoon got caught in the pipes, I bet. I don’t know when they are going to do something about that smell.”

Once inside the dining room, he stripped himself of the wet work shirt. His body was sculpted and pale but his posture had grown weak. He hung his shirt, along with his pants, on one of the dining room chairs. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. He looked frantically around the room, trying to find the source of this scratching. He heard a click in his bedroom and a small melody crept underneath the closed door.


Jack followed the music. He cautiously slipped into his bedroom and watched the radio with a sick macabre fascination. His eyes caught the blue form lying on his bed.

“Lilly.” He whispered in terror and disbelief.

Jack screamed and lunged for the bed. He grabbed the form in both of his hands. Bed sheets. Lilly was gone.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

The melody got louder. But he realized when he saw the power light on his radio was off, that it was echoing in his mind. Jack’s face had shadowed over and he threw open the door to his closet. He took the sledgehammer that he often used for work and walked stealthily back into the dining room. The silhouette was back. This time, she was less transparent. Jacks hand became slack on the handle of the sledgehammer. He felt bile rising in this throat and had to fight to keep it down. Lilly’s face started to distort. Her teeth started to rot and her eyes became bloodshot. Then he noticed the trickle, like rain – but red. It was blood. Running down her face. No. Running down the entire wall. They were small sprinkles at first. Then more. And more. It came down, gushing like a water fall. Puddles of crimson began to pool at his feet and the stench of copper and rotten eggs caused him to choke, forcing the bile up and out of his throat.

Jack screamed something unintelligible as he sent the sledgehammer sailing through the air and into the wall. He closed his eyes and continued to swing full force. He was breathing heavily; each breath came out it a frozen cloud of mist. When he was finished, there was nothing left of the wall. Pieces of debris and dry wall littered the entire room. Jack fell to his knees. He stared at Lilly.
________________________________________________________

“I will suffer for so long.” Jack said. His arms were around Lilly’s waist. He lost time again. Now they were in his bedroom. He was with his angel. Everything was okay.

“Not long enough.” Her small, musical voice sounded in his mind. “What will you do?”

“I’ll make it up to you.” Jack promised as he held her tighter to him. He took care not to knock down the space heater that he placed for her at the foot of the bed.

“I pray to God that you do.” Lilly’s voice was light.

Weightless.

“I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”

“Well then, I’ll grant you one chance.”

“And if it’s not enough…” Jack started.

“If it’s not enough?” Lilly’s voice became a whisper.

“I’ll try again.” Jack pleaded with desperation in his voice.

“Try again.” The musical voice drifted to a higher place. And of course it did, Jack thought. She was an angel.

“Over and over again.” He confirmed as he kissed Lilly on the back of her brown curls. His legs wrapped around hers tightly as he slipped into his little piece of heaven.