A Hotelroom In Bangkok - 02.26.06 (Part 3)
That was when he took my arm and pulled me over to the dresser, putting a length of a kurkri blade, edged with Atlantean runes, in my hand, and then pressing it to his throat.
"The fuck?"
His eyes were wild and hard on mine, "For my whole life... I have done the good dead. I have fought the good fight. I have Bled, I have suffered and I have lost. For what purpose? I was born to be a weapon, nothing more nothing less. I was tempered steel under a madman and a murderer. I have never once spoken up against a superior...never once abused my powers. Never ONCE have I done anything but the right thing. And you tell me what I have to show for it."
I wanted to spit in his face, "I'm not here for your fucking morality lessons or pity pleas, Atty." This was so fucking ridiculous.
"Im not looking for pity Jinx. I'm looking for someone to end it. Someone to stop me being a weapon."
Well, you're looking at the wrong girl then... "Then all you have to fucking do is look at your own goddamned hands for that answer."
"No. My life is hell. I want peace, not more torment. The one good thing in my life was you. The one time I went against what everyone wanted."
Oh sweet cryin' Christ, "I'm not fucking good, Atty." You have no idea what viper you hold to your throat.
"To me you were. To me you are."
"You don't even know me!"
"I know who you were and I know she can't be dead!" He drew the blade closer into his skin, the blood just under the surface trickling forward. The tears hung back in his eyes in contrast. "I died when they told me you were dead."
"She killed herself, Atty! She fucking killed herself, and what was left afterwards, she killed again when she signed her name in that tower. So they weren't lying. She bled to death twice over."
"Then send me to her." The tears matched his throat now, each rolling down over the skin.
My voice was bitter and drawn tight, "She loved you, and you left her."
"I love her and I was taken away. I was happy and they didnt want that...they needed me hard...they needed me without an anchor."
I let go of the knife. I didn't care that his hand was still pressing my hand to the blade, "Well, that's just too fucking bad for the both of them, isn't it?"
The knife clattered to the floor between us. His voice soft, barely above breath "I would venture to hell itself to bring her back."
"You got a long way to go then for a trip that's going to leave you in a place before your time."
" I...just want her back...even for one night to have things as they were." Then quieter. "I just want my life back"
I wiped at my face with my sleeve, staying the tears that were likely to come, "Deal with it."
He wiped his own face and moved back to the nightstand and the picture of us together at 14. He whispered to it, something low I couldn't hear. Then he folded it back into his back pocket. He cleared his throat. I kicked the knife away, fuckin' piece of shit.
He spoke first, "I...I'm sorry."
I was terse, "What. the fuck. for?"
"All of it...I'm sorry for leaving you...entering your life in the first place... Im sorry for every bit of pain or anguish I caused you."
"Oh my Christ. Just stop this shit. It happened, it's over, it's done. End of story. Apology accepted." There, cut and dried. I put on my goddamned shoe.
"What do I have now?"
Logical answer, "You have what you had 20 minutes ago. Just a little bruised."
He was quieter, "20 minutes ago I had hope that someday we'd have another chance."
"And now you don't?"
"Do you wan't to try again?"
"No."
"Do you want me around?"
What the hell kinda question... "I'm not your keeper." I sat up, "Go where you fuckin' want."
He went back to the dresser, "It'd be easier if I just go back to my duty. Whats the old sayings about childish things..." He took out the photo of us again, looking at it. "Thank you for staying with me tonight."
Damn, okay, whatever, "Sure thing. Stay off the drugs. They help with that thing you call ruining your life." Done, I'm fucking done. I looked back to him, leaning there, the picture in hand, the faces fading and damaged as though his eyes had burned it there. He touched it gently and that was it. There was nothing left to say. Nothing left to do. It was all out there.
I left, closing the door behind me with no noise I heard. All I heard, was the sound of him, and a heart breaking behind.
"The fuck?"
His eyes were wild and hard on mine, "For my whole life... I have done the good dead. I have fought the good fight. I have Bled, I have suffered and I have lost. For what purpose? I was born to be a weapon, nothing more nothing less. I was tempered steel under a madman and a murderer. I have never once spoken up against a superior...never once abused my powers. Never ONCE have I done anything but the right thing. And you tell me what I have to show for it."
I wanted to spit in his face, "I'm not here for your fucking morality lessons or pity pleas, Atty." This was so fucking ridiculous.
"Im not looking for pity Jinx. I'm looking for someone to end it. Someone to stop me being a weapon."
Well, you're looking at the wrong girl then... "Then all you have to fucking do is look at your own goddamned hands for that answer."
"No. My life is hell. I want peace, not more torment. The one good thing in my life was you. The one time I went against what everyone wanted."
Oh sweet cryin' Christ, "I'm not fucking good, Atty." You have no idea what viper you hold to your throat.
"To me you were. To me you are."
"You don't even know me!"
"I know who you were and I know she can't be dead!" He drew the blade closer into his skin, the blood just under the surface trickling forward. The tears hung back in his eyes in contrast. "I died when they told me you were dead."
"She killed herself, Atty! She fucking killed herself, and what was left afterwards, she killed again when she signed her name in that tower. So they weren't lying. She bled to death twice over."
"Then send me to her." The tears matched his throat now, each rolling down over the skin.
My voice was bitter and drawn tight, "She loved you, and you left her."
"I love her and I was taken away. I was happy and they didnt want that...they needed me hard...they needed me without an anchor."
I let go of the knife. I didn't care that his hand was still pressing my hand to the blade, "Well, that's just too fucking bad for the both of them, isn't it?"
The knife clattered to the floor between us. His voice soft, barely above breath "I would venture to hell itself to bring her back."
"You got a long way to go then for a trip that's going to leave you in a place before your time."
" I...just want her back...even for one night to have things as they were." Then quieter. "I just want my life back"
I wiped at my face with my sleeve, staying the tears that were likely to come, "Deal with it."
He wiped his own face and moved back to the nightstand and the picture of us together at 14. He whispered to it, something low I couldn't hear. Then he folded it back into his back pocket. He cleared his throat. I kicked the knife away, fuckin' piece of shit.
He spoke first, "I...I'm sorry."
I was terse, "What. the fuck. for?"
"All of it...I'm sorry for leaving you...entering your life in the first place... Im sorry for every bit of pain or anguish I caused you."
"Oh my Christ. Just stop this shit. It happened, it's over, it's done. End of story. Apology accepted." There, cut and dried. I put on my goddamned shoe.
"What do I have now?"
Logical answer, "You have what you had 20 minutes ago. Just a little bruised."
He was quieter, "20 minutes ago I had hope that someday we'd have another chance."
"And now you don't?"
"Do you wan't to try again?"
"No."
"Do you want me around?"
What the hell kinda question... "I'm not your keeper." I sat up, "Go where you fuckin' want."
He went back to the dresser, "It'd be easier if I just go back to my duty. Whats the old sayings about childish things..." He took out the photo of us again, looking at it. "Thank you for staying with me tonight."
Damn, okay, whatever, "Sure thing. Stay off the drugs. They help with that thing you call ruining your life." Done, I'm fucking done. I looked back to him, leaning there, the picture in hand, the faces fading and damaged as though his eyes had burned it there. He touched it gently and that was it. There was nothing left to say. Nothing left to do. It was all out there.
I left, closing the door behind me with no noise I heard. All I heard, was the sound of him, and a heart breaking behind.