Sober (part 2)

“I have to go home”, you said. “I have to.”
“Shall I walk you home?”
“Maybe that’s a good idea”, you lisped.
“Come one then”, I urged. “Where do you live?”

One thing I love about nights is the darkness. No on can see you clearly when it’s dark. It’s a veil for you and for everything you do. I need a veil to cover myself up. You could have seen my face, my urge to get it over and done with, if only the sun had been shining. But I’m smart and the sun wasn’t there.
We walked side by side, I was keeping you upright. You tried to walk straight, but you failed.
“That woman”, you started talking again, ” she was abused by my friend.”
Anger is like a fire that licks our fingers and ends up eating your heart and brain.
“You knew it?”
“I did.”
“Why hadn’t you done something?”
“I wanted to”, you defended yourself. “I wanted to tell her she should accuse him.”
Talking was obviously taking a lot of your energy, but you insisted on telling me this. I slowed down to let you talk. I needed to hear how cruel humanity is. You know, if you turned out to be worth killing, it would be much easier for me to hurt you.
“You have waited too long”, I blamed him.
“I only found out that day”, you sighed. “That night, at the cafe. I was planning on telling her that I knew it and that she should do something about it, she should accuse him. He was my friend but no longer after I had found out and-”
“Calm down”, I commanded.
“He had made me swear I would not tell anyone, but I wanted to help her and I wanted to tell her she should accuse him.”
“Why haven’t you done it?”
“Because”, you sighed, “she left and walked to the railway station.”

We walked on, in silence. I thought about that woman and felt her pain, and his pain. He wanted to help her. But she died.
“I just want to start this over”, you murmured. “Where are we going?”
“Trust me”, I said. I felt like I was all ice inside. For the first time that evening, I felt mercy and even remorse. This time though, I could no longer mold my future. I saw the empty street, lit by a few lanterns, and it hurt me as it seemed to be life: empty and impossible to escape.

I should not have drunk so much.

There’s a shadow just behind me and it’s shrouding every step I take. When we arrived at his apartment, I concluded that he wasn’t worth killing. There was no other reason for it than taking away his regret of not having saved her. He didn’t even ask me in nor did he attempt to force something. With an unstable hug we said goodbye.
“Take care”, I mumbled and I left, walking the hoar streets alone as usually.

The easiest way of killing someone is by paying their poisoned drinks. The easiest way to kill regret is by preventing the heart to beat.

Sober (part 1)

Have another glass. Drink some more. Here it is, my dear. Drink it all.

I’ve never cared about you, really. You were there, that was all. Another face. Another pair of eyes, staring at me. Another hungry look. You were starving, weren’t you? On the edge of dying for attention. I saw it and I answered your call. I gave myself on a silver plate. Trust me.

“Why can’t we not be sober?” you murmured, drunk.
“Because I pay”, I answered. You laughed. You grinned. Have another beer, my dear.
“Stop doing that. Tomorrow I’ll be so dead”, you sighed.
Yes, you will.
I smiled. “Does the world not look better with a touch of alcohol?”
“Sure it does, but the next day everything has turned black”, you sighed. You started sighing as if you knew your fate. Fate is nonsense. Fate is like clay. The future is what you mold and pinch.
“The next day is horror.”

Horror, that’s true. I’ve seen so many other faces just like yours, and all of them reflected that horror. It’s not me who made this world what it is. You created it yourself. It’s all in your hands, but you throw it away. That is what you do. And the difference between us that I don’t do that. As I said I start molding. I start molding men like you until I get them where I want them. Until they tell me I’m beautiful.

“You’re so beautiful”, you babbled.
“Am I?”
I lit a cigarette and blew the smoke in his face. What to say when someone compliments you? I breathed slowly.
Ask it.

Ask it.

But no, you just took another swig and started avoiding my eyes. Don’t ask me why they always want to tell something. There’s always something. Ever and always.
“Once, I knew a woman as beautiful as you”, you sighed. “She was just so nice and perfect…”
“Of course she was.” They are always nice and beautiful and perfect. They were the one.
“But she didn’t know. And one night, I hadn’t even asked her if she wanted a drink of me or anything, one night, she walked to the railway station and-”
“And what happened then?” I feel no mercy at this point. Just tell, let’s get it over and done with.
“Then there was a train.”
“Who knows?” you said full of misery. “Who knows why beautiful women die before-”
“Before they live.”
Another swig. Silence. You are different, aren’t you? But trust me. I will find the centre in you.Trust me.

“It’s so spoiled and tragic-”
“Drink another beer.”
“No”, you pushed my arms away, the glass away. Shaking head.
“It will only make things worse.”
It will indeed.

“Do you understand?” you asked, suddenly ardently speaking, in a sad way.
“No one deserves to die in such anonymous way.”
Maybe you do, my dear. Maybe you do deserve to die that way.