When the Chips are Down [Darkened Knight & Cosmic]

[Cosmic]

The rain wasn't cold anymore. There was no need to be cold anymore. It was just that simple, if something was bad, you don't think about it, you don't talk about it. You don't waste your precious energy to swim against the stream. You go with it, and if a waterfall is at the end, you smile and jump.

Yes, Noemi Parker was popular here. Her fair skin and round full lips were on high demand here. Who cares if her body was shivering in the autumn rains, or the dress she was wearing was thin, short, and hung loose on her skinny under-fed frame. Or even the fact that she sported all different colors of bruising on her abdomen, and her arms sported long tracks that kept her "work" bearable.
Never hit in the face though. It was her face that got her into the temporary heat of a car, and twenty dollars that she got to put in her bra.

Then again, her mind was wondering again. The disassociation game was the one she needed to work on. The game where you don't think about anything at all. You pack your mind away into a cozy little spot and you just let your body work for you. Then when you have the five hundred dollars you need, you go back to Him, and see if he will let you sit down for a while. Let you sleep. She closed her eyes for a bit longer than an average blink, before opening them, staring at the blurry traffic. She was becoming wary about the police, they normally made their rounds about now. Then it was fifty-fifty as to whether they would site you or make you hand over His money and "work" for free. She always had the latter. And then she would get beaten when she went back to Him, for being so foolish to get caught.

"Pearl, don't forget to smile." A girl to her right said, looking worried. That was one side effect of packing your mind away. When you returned, everything was different, including your name. Noemi smiled. Cause in this world, when someone told you to do something, you generally did it. Unless of course you were told to do it by someone who you didn't know, didn't pay for it. But Noemi wasn't having much luck. It was already 11:30 and she only had a hundred dollars. She probably wouldn't be sleeping tonight.

She hated it on the nights she didn't sleep. On the nights she didn't sleep her mind wandered. And when her mind wandered she thought about her old life. The good life. The paintings, and the champagne. The warm soft beds, the arms that would wrap around her and hold her throughout the night. The poetry, and the warm jackets, the little onesies and toys people would give her, waiting for the baby. The good life.

But thinking about it only brought out more of the ugly in the current life, the bad life. It was easier to pretend that all of the good was just a dream. That she was born into this. That her love, her baby, her drawings and paintings. That they were just the products of her misery. That she wasn't missing out on anything, that simply, she was dreaming of what could be. What should have been.

A few cars whizzed by, splashing her with wet before she saw one slow down just down the street. She tucked her mind away again, and allowed herself to walk to it, smile on her face as her eyes were glassy with drugs. She tapped twice on the driver side window, pushing a hand through her sopping wet hair. "Hey, are you busy tonight?" Her cold, shivering voice asked the glass, not quiet seeing who was there. However as soon as she made eye contact her heart skipped a beast as she stood there like a deer in the headlights. Not a sound was made, but suddenly her whole body was so heavy and her mind rushed in with such a force that she felt dizzy.

 

[DarkenedKnight]

It hurt deeply. Seeing her there, like so much meat for sale. Acting like just another john, when he really just wanted to waste everyone in sight. Not pulling out his very illegal glock 18 and spraying the whole block with what it had coming. But there was time. Noemi was the most important thing, not revenge, not justice, not punishment. Not yet.

****

The last three years had been most unkind to Andrei, if it was not the police, the trolls on the site he set up hounded him constantly. "That bitch looks like she should be a crack-whore!" or "I'd hit it, dead or alive!" Was a common theme of their taunts. Eventually, he knew no one would look for her if he didn't.

The years ticked by, agonizingly slow, full of somber and empty hands, full of regret.
The trolls continued to pound his sanity, their venomous words constantly poured across the screen. Things like, "I stuck that ass last night! Her piss flaps were so blue and clamy! Oooooo dEad girl!" Or "saw her selling pussy on mlk and broad last night! Shoulda hit it!".
In fact, those types of posts became the majority, a very disturbing majority. Only a fool would ignore something like that. He looked up every one of those places, the result lit cautious hope in him. They were street corners in a one mile radius of each other, in the slums.

After the cops closed his case, claiming the trail was cold, he knew better than to ask for their help. He had been waiting for a break like that, he knew it was coming, and he was far beyond ready. Andrei was like an addict, nothing mattered but being strong enough to protect her. Not his friends, family or job. No one and nothing.
He was too weak and slow, absent, he would never make that mistake again.
God just had to give him another chance to show her how much she mattered to him.

****

He had to keep it under control, she was just a whore, he was just a john. That was all they needed to see.
He leaned forward, let her see his eyes, his devotion. All he saw reflected was the daze of drugs and despare in the woman he loved. His lips moved with practiced words, a buzz of lewd innuendo and money wagging to fool the thugs nearby.
His little show ended, half hearted as it was, with a short exchange of money and a parked car.

That moment was weeks in the making, he meticulously picked out every single detail. Down to the marked bills and brass.
"Hey man! I need this bitch for an hour, got a bed for me?" He called out to the skinhead on the stoop a short way off.
The bald head turned his way and nodded, hand pointed to the door behind him.

The building smelled like rot, crack smoke permiated the walls, the stale smell of rutting soured the floor with each step. How did she survive so long...
Not that she would be here for long.
The KKK wannabe lead him to a small windowless room with posters of porn stars plastered to the walls, lit by a naked bulb that hung forlorn from the celing.

"Do you remember me? Noemi?" He pleaded quietly once the door was closed.

 

[Cosmic]

It was all so surreal. The money, the okay to go inside, Andrei... The euphoria of being found, the temporary dizziness of seeing his eyes, it was slowly draining from her--and taking with it whatever shred of dignity she was holding. She was silent as the got back into her "home" looking down at her feet, and trying to hold back the urge to vomit. This couldn't be real could it? If it was then the consequences of all of her actions were real too. Then everything she did in this life, every john, every night, every bit of heroin, cocaine, and amphetamines would and (if she dared to dream it was real) was affecting her good life.

Shame swallowed her like the whale did to Jonah. She was now shivering from something other than cold. Something other than wet. She was shivering because as they were led into the sad excuse of a bedroom, she was faced with her fantasy, her good life, and she was defenseless to fight it off. Long ago she was told how she came here, and ever the good student she learned her place quickly. She made money. She was property. She could be bought or traded to whoever, whenever. Property didn't have lovers, property didn't need love. She was mechanical, a fake, a phony. While in truth it was only three years, she was sure it was many many more. She was told it had been many more. The fractures in her bones, the bruises that never seemed to heal, and the blood that she seemed to drain weekly, taught her to stop questioning it too. To contest that now would be as insane as saying she was on the moon.

"Do you remember me? Noemi?"

Her shock of hearing her name for the first time in three years was evident, and she flinched violently at it, almost as if she was slapped. This couldn't be happening. He wasn't supposed to be real...but then, how did he know her name? Her knees buckled under her and she found herself on the molding carpet her arms holding tight to her body as if she was afraid she was a rag doll falling apart. Memories, feelings, good lord the feelings! They flooded her. Filled her, overflowing and impossible to control. Shame, anger, sadness, hurt. So much hurt...Every bone every muscle, every organ. All of her seized up in harshness, and her trembling got more violent under his eyes.

"N-no." She whispered, still shaking her head. "It's not real. You aren't real. I'm dreaming again. I fell asleep, I'm dreaming again, and He's going to be mad." She was crying. She was terrified. In no way did she win. If Andrei, her sweet sweet love, was actually there then she was shaming him. She was less than shit on the ground in front of him, what with her filthy body being taken by so many over the years. And if he wasn't there, then she would simply wake up on cold pavement with more soreness and even less sanity and dignity than before. If she was lucky, and didn't get caught.

 

[DarkenedKnight]

He had prepared himself for her denial, the drug induced fear. It still hurt. All that hurt burned into rage and hate, and strength. It was the only place he could let it go, he couldn't turn it on her, he had to put the hurt where it belonged.
"Noemi, baby...I'm here, don't worry..." He pulled her close, willed his warmth into her heroin wracked body. "I...so sorry." He struggled to keep it together, his heart and soul fought passed his rage for just a second. That instant was like hell, all the sorrow and love was blinding. Then his rage slipped back into control, and the world made sense again.

His hand slipped to the pocket of his fatigue-styled jacket and pulled out a needle, a simple paralytic, with out a single thought he sank the long needle into Noemi's thigh and dropped the plunger. He couldn't let he see what her loss had made him into.

As she slumped to the ground in his arms, the memories returned.

***

Andrei's body was cooled by dawn breezes carrying the smell of flower dew. A beige ceiling stared down at him as his eyes slowly peeled open. Beside him lay an angel, sleeping blissfuly. Andrei rolled onto his side to plant a soft, lingering kiss on her tender lips before he slipped out of bed and quietly made his way to the kitchen. Something about that day felt perfect and whole, a surprise breakfast in bed was just a natural part of that.

Quietly, he prepared his feast of creppés, colourful fruit salad, a pitcher of fresh orange juice, french toast, sausages, scrambled eggs and a little champagne. His tray was overflowing with food and his smile, Andrei opened the door and rested the load on a nearby side table as he went to wake his sleeping beauty.

"Darling..." he whispered hotly in her ear."can you smell what the rock is cooking?"

***

Two quick blinks banished his thoughts into the depths and brought him back to reality.
His right hand slid behind his back and grasped the glock 18 nestled in the small of his back with practiced ease. With his left Andrei banged on the plywood door loudly. "Hey! Got a rubber for me? Don't wanna catch aids or anything." His throat rebelled against the words, but the still came out as harsh as could be.
A moment passed, the skinhead sounded like he was rummaging around in the mess."here you go!" He said dully as a long roll of sexxtra-large brand condoms slipped under the door.
Not quite what he had hoped for, but it would do. Andrei crushed the fragile door in with a single kick, splinters and bullets showered the room.
The image of shock and horror on the pale man's face burned it self into Andrei's mind before a nine millimeter slug sent shards of bone and globules of brain fat spilling across the floor. The grotesque writhing and clawing was only reflex, he told himself, the skinhead wasn't alive.
Andrei split his head with the rest of the clip to make sure.

The stink of shit and blood mingled with the already disease infused walls, for the first time in three years, Andrei felt alive. The only problem was, he couldn't tell if it was because he rescued the love of his life or because he was watching blood gush from a ragged neck stump.

 

[Cosmic]

There was rain. He, of course, was laughing.

"Aww, Come on. You don't need an umbrella. It's just sprinkling."

"Love, I don't want you to get sick...please can we go and get the umbrella?" Her voice asked in the only slightly whining-condescending fashion. Truthfully, she loved his optimism. Truthfully, she loved him. And his goofy smile, his fearlessness...but she wasn't fearless. She could literally feel the building sway in the wind. Why did he bring her up here?

He took her hand. Warm. Strong.

"I'm not going to get sick. Rain doesn't cause sickness. Cold does."

"Well it's cold too. Baby you know that I don't like heights. Please can we go? You are being extremely silly right now."

"Please." Puppy eyes. He was good at that. His other hand went around her hips and held the small of her back. Warm. Strong.
He kissed her forehead. "It will be okay."

He lead her cautiously to the railing, still holding her hand. Her eyes were closed. She didn't want to look. She was scared. The rain touched her face, but not their hands. Rain never touched their hands when they were together.

She opened her eyes. The lights of the buildings and cars were so tiny and beautiful up here. Like Christmas lights. They reflected off the water of the river and twinkled in the mist. Then her vertigo kicked in and she felt dizzy and scared. She closed her eyes again, recoiling back.

"Noemi, baby...I'm here, don't worry..."
***

Women screamed. Or at least some did. Others simply looked panicked but were too drugged or too tired to make a sound. Nobody mourned the man's death. Blood splattered on the limp form of Noemi, but she made no sound other than the soft wheezing of her breathing. It almost looked like little red petals that dripped on to her arm and cheek.

Doors opened, there was the distinct buzz of fear that settled in the throats of all those conscious enough to hear the shots. Three men, all scrawny compared to the cool quiet of Andrei's

 

[Cosmic]

Noemi shrank in his arms. His smell. God this smell. She still didn't want to believe it. It hurt. Lord did it hurt. His words reached her like he was speaking through molasses. It was slow, confusing. Everything was spinning for her. Her own fingers were digging into her arms, pinpricks of blood seeping underneath the nails.

She didn't see him push in the needle, she didn't even feel it. But she did feel the gentle nod of the drugs, and she didn't fight them. She welcomed the sleep, the blissful mercy of unconsciousness. Her words getting lost as the blackness enclosed her.

***

There was rain. He, of course, was laughing.

"Aww, Come on. You don't need an umbrella. It's just sprinkling."

"Love, I don't want you to get sick...please can we go and get the umbrella?" Her voice asked in the only slightly whining-condescending fashion. Truthfully, she loved his optimism. Truthfully...she loved him. And his goofy smile, his fearlessness...but she wasn't fearless. She could literally feel the building sway in the wind. Why did he bring her up here? She cringed.

He took her hand. Warm. Strong.

"I'm not going to get sick. Rain doesn't cause sickness. Cold does."

"Well it's cold too. Baby you know that I don't like heights. Please can we go? You are being extremely silly right now."

"Please." Puppy eyes. He was good at that. His other hand went around her hips and held the small of her back. Warm. Strong.
He kissed her forehead. "It will be okay."

He lead her cautiously to the railing, still holding her hand. Her eyes were closed. She didn't want to look. She was scared. The rain touched her face, but not their hands. Rain never touched their hands when they were together.

She opened her eyes. The lights of the buildings and cars were so tiny and beautiful up here. Like Christmas lights. They reflected off the water of the river and twinkled in the mist. Then her vertigo kicked in and she felt dizzy and scared. She closed her eyes again, recoiling back.

"Noemi, baby...I'm here, don't worry..."

There was rain. He, of course, was laughing.

***

Women screamed. Or at least some did. Others simply looked panicked but were too drugged or too tired to make a sound. Nobody mourned the man's death. Blood splattered on the limp form of Noemi, but she made no sound other than the soft wheezing of her breathing. It almost looked like little red petals that dripped on to her arm and cheek closest to the splinted door frame. She was peaceful, and a small smile crept onto her face.

Doors opened, and there was the distinct buzz of fear that settled in the throats of all those conscious enough to hear the shots. Two men, both scrawny compared to the cool quiet of Andrei's rage came out, their own guns in hand. One blocking the opening of the hallway to get out, and the other to his side in a doorway, pulling up his pants.

"That mother-fucker killed Markus!" However there was stillness. Shock, red dilated eyes were in overdrive, paranoia creeping in. A lot was on the line. They weren't suppose to lose sight of Pearl. They stared at Andrei enraged for a moment before time sped up, looking to make up for lost time.

The one in front, dug for his guns, cursing. "You fucking son of a bitch."
The women were heard in the "living room" packing up the drugs, scuttling like insects back into the caverns of safety. Gunshots meant anger. Anger meant they would be looking for a dog to kick. And as gone as most of them were survival instinct still motivated them to keep out of the way and try to be as quiet as possible. "Anthony. Get the fucking whore." The one blocking Andrei's path ordered. "You are going to fucking pay for this you piece of shit!" He roared moving to close in on his target.

 

[DarkenedKnight]

They said that the first kill would be hard, that his soul would hurt. Andrei felt nothing but elation, watching blood pool in the matted, stained carpet. Distantly, he wondered what had happened to himself, his body however wasted no time. Automatic reflex loaded a new magazine to his gun and wordlessly began to empty it. The muzzle roared hatefuly as it filled the nearest body with death. Too fucking slow, these guys were thugs, not even bodyguards.
Grey chunks of unidentified organs poured out of the lead peppered guts as the man who pretended to block his way fell to the floor in pieces.

Andrei wanted to laugh, but there was no joke. Only death.
"I'm coming for you Anthony! Make it simple! Lay down and die!" He goaded gleefully, another magazine clicked into the butt of his gun. "Or we could have some fun..."
The monster was in control. The monster called Andrei.

He holstered his machine pistol calmly in favor of a cruel looking knife, this one would suffer for his master.

 

[Cosmic]

Poor Anthony didn't wait around. He stumbled back into the room he came from, terrified. His brain couldn't comprehend the insanity before him. It was grotesque and horrifying. He had never seen such a lack of control. It wasn't even a normal fight. The air was different, sicker, he feared the almost joyful man like he was a ghost.

The woman in the room had passed out. Her broken drugged body couldn't take the excitement of the night. He envied her. His gun was drawn and aimed at the door ready to fire as soon as Andrei came into sight. He wasn't even supposed to be here anyway. He was simply a friend of a friend. He wasn't in control of this shit. He wasn't guilty for whatever pissed this fucker off...right?

"Don't you fucking come near me man. I'll fucking kill you! Fuckin' shoot you between the eyes you son of a bitch!" He yelled trying to sound brave as he back up into the room, before hitting the wall. There were no windows in this room anymore, he realized slowly. He hadn't ever killed anyone before. That wasn't his job. He was just a runner. He just took bitches from one place to another. Nothing more. He drew a breath before yelling again, "I'm serious you fucking bastard! Get the fuck away from me."

 

[DarkenedKnight]

A small, satisfied smile cut across Andrei's grim face as he leaned, back to wall, near the doorway. His mind was charged with icy adenaline, voices he did not know rang in his ears.
"First rule of urban warfare: control the power grid, control their line of sight."
He had never been through any kind of military training...not that he could remember.
***
"Case study. New York, New York, oh-three. A spec-ops team headed jointly by GRU and Spetsnaz "extracted" a suspected splinter cell of counter-inteligence agents and defectors from an American intel nest. Obviously, the administration had granted them asylum in order to debrief and would not have allowed this to happen." A rather calm, grandfatherly looking old man rasped as he pointed out a row of faces.
"Can any one think of a way to do this without causing an internaional incident?"
Silence.
The answer was obvious, everyone knew it. An orchestrated blackout.
"I can see by your faces...you know exactly what I mean. A blackout. Saves face for every one involved. The nation pisses their panties worrying about grandma and her iron lung, the police and everyother defence constuct is distracted. Nobody remembers the borsht guzzling ghosts that just dissapeared, not that anyone even knew they were busy choking down a quarter pounder at that second..."
The room rippled with a short mirthful chuckle.
A hand shot up from the crowd.
"Wouldn't the DHS et al be expecting something like that?" A young man with a buzz cut asked tentatively.
"Well...yes but the politics of the matter prohibit the government from ignoring the population and its crisis. A fact that GRU was banking on...panic. The main weapon of covert ops is fear and darkness, Andrei-- weren't you paying attention in boot camp?"
***
Again, his body took control and pulled out a small mirror to survey the windowless room.
When did he pack that? He couldn't remember.
He looked around and memorized the positioning of his target automatically. It was too bright to rush him, he would be cut down like a dog.
A quick flick of his dark eyes found a naked, rusty looking fuse box. Control the power, control the line of sight.
A few long strides delivered him to the switch, which he threw without even a breath to think.
Darkness sank into the decaying corridors instantly.
He instinctively retraced his steps and sprinted into the clustrophobic space like a raging bull. He could "see" his target before him and threw his considerable weight into the scrawny pimp and crushed him against the wall with his shoulder.
Bones cracked and splintered under him with a horrific crunch that echoed in the black void.

Like a possessed man, his hands splayed out and bound his new well of information like he was lacing up his shoes.

Another set of forgoten tools appeared in his hands, a butchers apron and smelling salts.

"Wakey wakey..." he smiled as he waved the box of smelling salts under Anthony's nose.
"Today you get to choose how you die."

 

[Cosmic]

He opened his eyes warily, the dark mass in front of him slowly coming into focus. He noticed almost instantly, that his whole right side could not be moved without serious pain. He was bleeding, though he didn't have the courage to try to figure out where or how. He couldn't feel the fingers in his right hand. He gasped, the air feeling thick and sickening in his lungs before he coughed it back up, tears streaming down his face from pain.

"F-f-fuck man...Whatchoo want? Take the bitch man...fuckin' take 'em all. I got nothin' man. My mamma though, she needs me man. She fuckin'...needs me man..." He was staring at the plastic of Andrei's apron, trying to keep face while it moved and shimmered. "my mamma, she's in a chair man. She can't get around..she...she needs me. I haven't done anything wrong. I didn't even touch 'em. I just drive 'em man...I uhh, I protect 'em man. L-like you. Make sure they don't get knocked around too much n'stuff..." He winced, he wanted to move away but he was too dizzy and in pain to want to try.

"C-c'mon, you don't think I'm like them, right man?" his voice high, hurt, breaking under the weight of guilt that statement held. Those were his friends...even if he didn't fully agree as to what they were doing. He hadn't even comprehended Andrei's earlier statement about him choosing his death, at least not completely.

 

[DarkenedKnight]

"You're here aren't you? Still took their money. What precisely makes you different?" He smiled sadistically. The nerve of this leach! Begging for his life with pathetic lies.
Yet, some truth shone in the battered mans eyes. No matter how much he wanted to ignore it, the shadow of his soul stopped him.
"You have two options. I torture your worthless ass to death and rip the information out of you. Or, you tell me what I need to know and let god decide how you die. How much do you love your mother?" He goaded hatefuly, draging the cold blade of the knife along Anthony's neck.
The fear on the mans face was invigorating, the control and respect...intoxicating.
***
"Torture must be a last resort...as shown by that idiotic waterboardin debacle, torture produces false intel. That kind of shit gets assets killed. DO NOT USE THESE METHODS UNLESS COMPLETELY UNAVOIDABLE!" The old man was frothing, obviously this was a lesson that few learned.
The class was taken aback by the passion on the kindly looking mans face. No body breathed.
"However....in order to withstand them, we must use them on you...."
***
The flashbacks or halucinations or what ever the hell they were became worse. They were getting more frequent and more vivid.
He couldn't focus on that though. He needed this thug to talk.
a feat which would require focus and hate.
"What is it going to be? Personally...I'd love to see what kind of heart is in your chest...."

 

[Cosmic]

"F-fuck man!" There were a lot of sins on Anthony's hands, and suddenly catholic guilt pierced itself into his soul for each and every single one. He pushed himself as far away as he could physically allow himself--which honestly wasn't all that far--but it was enough to get the knife off his throat at least temporarily. "Man, I'll tell you...I'll tell you whatever...don't get so crazy. I...I'm a good man. Ch-church, every Sunday. God as my witness, I'll tell you whatever man, whatever."

A ragged breath passed through him as his eyes closed, more tears coming down his face. He didn't want to die. And he knew, on more than one level, that he was more than deserving of it.
***
"You fucking bitch!"

Spiderman was on. Spiderman came on after Gargoyles. And before Gargoyles was Mamma's show. He didn't like Mamma's shows.

"Don't you fucking touch me. Get away from me, Jesse, Get...stop, you...you fucking asshole!"

They were "talking" again. He hated when they were "talking". It got loud. It was worse when they were in a place where things could break. There was nothing that could break in his room. He triple checked every day. No glass, all plastic.

"You stay in my house, eating up my fucking money, claiming that little shit over there is mine. I'm not as stupid as you, bitch! That shit doesn't work on me!"

Glass fell on the ground. He wanted to turn up the T.V. but he wasn't supposed to. He wasn't supposed to turn around either, even if he wanted to. If he turned around, they might see him. And Mamma didn't like that when it happened. And Jesse didn't like that when it happened either."

"Jesse, get your hands off of me don't you...You fucking asshole, stop it. Jesse, not in front...don't..."

Peter Parker was a nice guy. He wished his dad was Peter Parker. If his dad was Peter Parker, then maybe he would have super powers too. Maybe that spider bite would help him too. And he could then help Mamma. All super heroes helped there Mammas'

"Hey you little shit, turn that off. I said, turn it off!"
***
"P-Pearl. It's...her...name is Pearl. That's what she was called. That's what they told me. Ask...Ask...anything."

 

[DarkenedKnight]

"Good, good, good...now we're getting somewhere." Andrei grinned as he took a handful of the mans hair and wrenched his head back violently.
"Now...who do you work for, where can I find them and what did they do NOEMI!" He barked in anthony's ear angrily. How dare they take her beautiful name from her!
The rage stricken man took a deep breath and again drew the cold steel along his captives neck. Drunk on control and power. He finaly felt like he could protect her. He could make them pay for their tresspass.
"Tell me who 'they' are."
He could hear panicked breathing in the room with him, it wasn't the man before him. Distantly, his heart broke for the women who were imprisoned here, he wanted to help but he had to focus on the job at hand. There was no other way.

 

[Cosmic]

His response was unintelligible as a small shriek of pain squeezed out his chest. Who were they? Fuck out of all the questions, he couldn't answer any of those, at least in any way that would preserve his life.
"N-not sure. Lots of names." He wheezed out through clenched teeth. "There are t-two. Sold her to...many...places. I helped drive her....about three years ago I think." He coughed, and tasted the liquid copper of blood.
"They...it...she's been through a lot man. She was...Alex's favorite, one of them. He would do things...bad things....I just drove her to the hospital a couple times." He took a breath trying hard to stay focused.

"They live out of state. That's all I know. Her..she has lots of scars man. she, she was in their operation. Underground...pussy tube....I don't know much man, I never touched her. But they would...gang up on her and stuff. I don't know man. Not my style. Please...please don't...." he closed his eyes whimpering, scared of what the other man would do with the blade.

 

[DarkenedKnight]

Andrei dropped his victems head with disgust, bile soured his mouth as he swallowed the urge to kill. He took long, slow breaths and listened to the night. The cops would show up soon, his time was nearly up. Being the slum that it was, Andrei was confident nobody would say much to the cops, for fear of retributions, but that was no sure thing. There was always that lifetime movie inspiring person who can't keep his trap shut.
A small smile broke across his lips as he remembered that he was once just like them. He had faith once, he trusted who he was. Once.
The memories that gently guided him, bubbled just below his veneer of sanity, tore his trust to ribbons.

"That's good enough. Let's see if god agrees." He growled as he hauled the now useless Anthony to his feet.
"You did real good. Thanks, now you are in gods hands..." he said, almost kindly as he sank the long knife into the mans gut and twisted savagely. He could feel the organs shred as the blade cut through.
"As much as you hurt, you might live if the paramedics get here in time." He said, the knife flew out of the wreckage of innards and into the sheath on his hip.

"Been great knowing you..." he said as he slipped out the door and back to the love of his life.

 

[Cosmic]

He would have screamed but he couldn't summon enough oxygen to even try. He knew, some how, between the white hot pain of his body and the coppery blood falling out of his mouth that he was going to die. He was scared, he was relieved, he was ashamed. There were many emotions that fluttered under his skin like insects that he could scarcely concentrate at the world around him. It was just as well really. It was quickly going black and he found no reason to keep his eyes open anyway. With slow breathing pain ebbed away as his body shifted into shock and let his mind roam free.

***

"Kali is the ultimate form of Shakti energy. Her grotesque form is constructed partially out of the belief of the three stages of life: Creation, preservation, and destruction. Kali, is, obviously destruction."

"Is it so fair to call her only destruction?"

"Excuse me Miss Parker, I didn't see your hand there. As I was saying, her form is ghoulish, her skirt is made out of the hands of men, and her belt from their heads. Her tongue is so red due to the fact of drinking her victims' blood--"

"Victims. That's hardly fair. She was destroying demons, evils of the world Ma'am. She is not a full blooded destroyer Either, if you look at her relationship with Shiva, you'll find that she is only a destroyer of those who deserve it, or have earned it. Such as the old or the dying--"

"Miss Parker. I will not ask you again to keep your mouth closed."

"N-no" it was a coarse whisper breaking the dream she was in. Her mouth was dry. Breath was quick, shallow, she couldn't open her eyes. It was almost like being asleep. She knew that one of the two realities she was in was not real but she couldn't figure out which. She could smell flowers here, sweet sticky roses with their sharp little thorns pressing against her back. She could taste the petals on her cracked lips. Soft.

The reality of the deteriorating house was far from her, as was most of the real world. Including her shaking. It was mild at first but now it was almost audible as her bony frame made contact with the floor. Teeth clenched, empty stomach already starting to cramp up in pain...

She heard Andrei's footsteps, and her face showed a pained smile. "N-no." She whispered, with a trace of light dancing sarcasm from the good life. "T-too hot. Bad...timing...for flowers...darling." It was almost as though she was a wind up tow running out of steam. She was slow and rough, her voice cracked and confused. She should open her eyes--After all she should at least look at the beautiful flowers around her--but she was tired it seemed. Why couldn't she lift her head?

"Thorns...Sharp." she whispered out into darkness as footsteps stopped near her and she tried hard to open her eyes and see what was going on around her.

 

[DarkenedKnight]

Heavy steps carried Andrei to his love, each one was like a dream emerging from a nightmare.
"Don't worry honey...these flowers grew just for you..." He whispered gently, his arms caressed her frail body and held her close.
The urban rot that surrounded them melted away like it never was.

He carried her across the threshold, out of her prison and into his car. The ratty old Buick chattered to life with a cough and rolled down the road like nothing happened.

A blur of neon and street lights passed as the car guided them back to their new start.

 

[Cosmic]

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.

Lights were surprisingly soft on resting eyelids and delicate breaths. It took a lot of effort but Noemi was able to slowly taking in the swirling dizziness all around her. It came in many ways. The cold glass, the warm air from the heater, the leather seat sticking to her thighs. When she finally managed to open her eyes, it was the raindrops that she saw first, slinking down the window like one long last caress of an otherwise careless lover.

Which in many ways; that was the truth.

She could still smell flowers. She could still feel them pressing against her skin, thorns and all. But she knew better than to trust in that promise. There were so many broken promises over the years that she didn't have the strength to try to believe in another, especially one that she wanted so badly.

(I think I made you up inside my head.)

Andrei. Did she want to believe that she saw him? Did she want to risk turning to see his face when she wasn't sure if she could survive the possibility of him not being there? And where was Willa? The sweet cherub girl she had held so many times. She could practically taste those sweet little fingers pressing up against her lips in innocent motherly adoration. Something in her stirred when she realized she could neither hear the child nor feel it.

This was not right. This was not how it was supposed to be. Her baby needed her. And wasn't the good life supposed to have her anyway? If Andrei really was there, driving, smiling, then shouldn't her baby be there too? If only to nurse at her breast?


The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:

"Andrei. Where is Willa?" A soft muffled sound.

This dream, or reality (for she wasn't yet sure of which) was wrong. She needed her baby girl. The sweet round mass that had both her dark hair and Andrei's soft crystalline eyes. Willa was theirs. The perfect blend. The product of their love, and a true testament to their resolve for one another.

She felt a subtle speed increase underneath. Fear? Anger? Laughter? Or simply a dream fading?

The thoughts cascaded down and swirled themselves into her bones drawing memories with soft subconscious qualities she couldn't understand. She kept going back to the basic questions, why, who, and when? Why was this happening? Who was this man that she loved? And when did she confuse this good life for the bad one?

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

A wave of exhaustion hit her and her mind reeled to grasp at the current situation at hand. It was back to square one. Cold glass. Soft light. Smell of damp leather. She longed to reach out and feel his hand. She needed that hand. It had to be him, she had to touch him before he went away again. Could she even recall the feeling of his palm pressed against hers? Had it been so long since she felt those hands running over the small worry lines across her face before bringing her close to feel soft lips pressing against her own? Certainly they were together only moments ago...She remembered it all too well...

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.

Hands held her. Hands held her breasts. Hands dug nails into her sides--many more than ten scratches. Hands took her legs, held them apart. Hands around her throat. The cold metal of a gun behind her back. There was laughter and a distinct smell of chemicals and body odors. He held her down, a curved maniacal smile splitting his face like glass.

"Don't worry baby, I'll make you feel real good."

She choked back tears as he stood over her, her throat filled with heavy hard weight, and she finally broke down and cried out when she felt flesh tear and bleed between her legs.

After all, what was making love all about?

(I think I made you up inside my head.)

No that wasn't right. That was the bad life. That wasn't her sweet love. He would never do that. Never....then why could she only see his face? Why did she feel dirty beneath his eyes? Why was she sore in places a woman should never feel sore....? Then the realities shifted once more and the memories of her daughter, and her husband leaving her resurfaced. The cold lonely truth of what happened. He left and would never come back.

This man driving her was a customer. She really should be getting back to work, when did it stop raining?

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

Willa. Sweet little baby girl. He took her away. It was coming back now so clearly. He left and threw her into this hell and ripped away everyone and everything she love. He hated her. He couldn't love her. He wouldn't have plunged her head first into this baptism of suffering if he did. He left her to rot and to fade and there was nothing more she could do. If she turned to see him he would be there. Gun in hand, cock out. Waiting. Waiting like the rest of them. The smell of flowers turned sour. Metallic.

She felt the car shift, and her heart beat increased in worry. She knew this taste. It was blood. Hyper-paranoia sank into her skin as she mentally checked over her body. She was sore and she was tired. She was starting to itch and that only meant one thing; she was sobering up.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.

"Willa. Where is Willa?" Louder. Less of a whisper, more of a plea.
She prayed to her bones. To the flame of divinity that is inside all of life, that her child was safe. She was asleep in the back, that Andrei had come for her and that this wasn't a disaster waiting to happen. Finally summing all of her courage she managed to turn her head and witness the profile of her beloved. The profile of her most hated.

He sat there with his eyes to the road, ignoring her like always. His kind demeanor rigid and callous; not to mention completely full of rage. She stared at him until his eyes finally met hers for a split second.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

"Where is my baby?!" A wail.

Why was this reality so confusing. Where was the laughter? Where were the paintings. The hardwood floors creaking underfoot. The soft lavender-scented sheets tinged with the smell of love? Why was there dirt and streaks of dark red across his face. Why did the car smell of death instead of the robust aroma of coffee sweetened with honey and cream?

Why wasn't he at least holding her hand and speaking to her in soothing tones and at least attempting to calm her fears? He just sat there, lock-jawed, heavy blood spackled hands curled over the wheel in full-blown wrath as he breathed in calm soundless breaths.

"Where are you Andrei?" her voice boiled over in tears as her shaking got worse until she fell forward missing a rather intense bump on the head via the dash by a quick turn and nothing more.

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.

This was all wrong! All of it. To the last detail. What happened? Where was she really? Tears were falling, though it was more like the roof was leaking overhead. There was no place for her to cry from anymore. She let out something similar to a shriek of pain as the reality hit her square in the heart and burned her dreams like old photographs. There were no flowers. no fresh blooms for a bright beginning. It was a cold stormy night. There was blood in the air. Her lover was returning to her after leaving her in a hell that n o one deserves to be left in. And her child....Her child...

She sagged, holding the dash as she cried into her hands. She remembered. They took the baby from her, she could still feel the knives stabbing into her and the blood that rushed from her broken heart. She remembered the fall down the stairs and the screams of other women who witnessed her cries. They took the baby away. She was rushed to a clean place, a bad place. They stitched her up and put her back in hell, and when she finally saw her sweet Willa...She was dead under a pile of garbage.

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

"Andrei??....She's gone...The baby...She's gone."

Pain tore through her as realization after realization came to her. This reality might be wrong. And everything in it may be tainted. But she couldn't run from it either. This was happening. Andrei was back. Andrei came for her. And thus the last three years came forward and wrapped her up in a sickeningly tender embrace, rocking out her sorrow to the rhythmic dance of the moon overhead.

And her heart shuddered in her chest, trying desperately to keep working despite all outside forces telling it to stop. She wept into her hands until her body could spare no more tears and she recoiled from Andrei's eyes when she felt them on her. Terrified of the questions and meaning they had within them.

The italicized lines of poetry are not my work, but the work of Sylvia Plath (for those curious here is the link to the original work). When writing this post I realized how strangely I felt the poem fit into Noemi's psyche and decided I would try something new. At the same time I recently received the new album by Florence + the Machine. One of the singles "No light, No light" have seriously helped shaped this post as well as my current character development at this point. (Listen to the awesome youreself) In any case, I hope it isn't too confusing, and that it was worth the wait.