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Nathaniel remembered when they met.
It was October 13, 2005, the annual Fall banquet.
It was a very ordinary meeting that was no different from other meetings. That banquet was surprisingly calm; some peace was in the air as if the place had become permeated with the smell of sleep. Like it was the calm before the storm. Nathaniel Wesninski had been expecting that storm since the banquet started. A nagging feeling that something was going to happen was racing in his head again and again and again so he kept an eye on Kevin and Jean, concurrently looking for ‘the storm’ in the room. The feelings of desperation like before and genuine interest were fighting in his head. On the one hand ‘the storm’ might endanger Kev and Jean but on the other… it could break up the boredom of being there. Suddenly his eyes ran into a blond head. “The storm,” flashed in his mind.
The Ravens that were left without Rico’s influence dispersed the room like other teams and Riko, just like Kevin and Jean, was somewhere in the crowd of athletes. Nathaniel sat next to Riko’s seat, resting his chin on his palm and tapping his index finger on his cheekbone as if he was tapping on a beat of some song only he could hear. His lips were stretched into a wide smile while his ice-blue eyes bored into a man that was sitting at the table next to theirs. And the man was Andrew Minyard, the Fox’s goalkeeper.
Nathaniel knew Andrew was medicated but even if he didn’t, he would know it due to the familiar haze he sees in the mirror every time he has to look at it. Hazel eyes looked back at him as if they are searching for something and when they find that ‘something’ Andrew’s lips stretch in a smile similar to his own. And then Nathaniel was 101% sure Andrew figured he was medicated too. “A thief knows a thief, as they say,” he grinned in his mind.
Nathaniel upraised and started to move towards Andrew. Andrew grinned – kind of a sign of his figuring out Nathaniel’s intention. He got to the table in a moment and slipped on a free seat across from Andrew’s. Nathaniel said, “Andrew Minyard!”
Andrew blinked. “Nathaniel Wesninski, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he said bitingly.
“Oh, don’t be so formal. I could be embarrassed,” Nathaniel tucked a strand of hair back. “And to answer your question I am here to make friends with you, of course!” Nathaniel said and he wasn’t embarrassed of telling such an obvious lie even for a second.
“Are you so desperate to find friends?” Andrew scoffed, reaching for a little plate of some dessert.
“Put it this way. You seemed so bored being there as I am so why don’t we make our evening and chat about whatever you like? Maybe it would surprise you, but we have a lot in common.”
Andrew’s right eyebrow rose. “For example?” he said, resting his chin on his hand.
“For example, Exy- “Andrew rolled his eyes at this argument but Nathaniel continued. “That we must shop at the same pharmacy– “
Andrew scoffed. “Really? I didn’t think there was anything that could help a psycho like you,” he said without a second of hesitation.
“Birds of a feather, you know,” Nathaniel grinned.
And Andrew grinned back.
They were chatting about all sorts of things from ice-cream flavors to zombie invasions for about the next hour or so, jumping from topic to topic – the fucking drugs were killing their concentration and ability to not flirt the whole fucking time they talked. So, it was no surprise when Nathaniel found himself in a toilet stall sitting on Andrew’s lap and kissing him with his hands into blond hairs as if they were students trying not to get caught. Andrew himself was sitting on the toilet lid with his hands on Nathaniel’s back. They walked away sharply doing frequent inhalation and exhalation – their lungs were burning and their lips were red and numb.
“Is it still yes?” Andrew asked, looking at him with the mist in his eyes.
“Mm, yeah. It’s still yes,” Nathaniel said digging his hands into Andrew’s hair again and pulling him closer to another kiss.
This time it was softer than the last one. Andrew’s hands were exploring Nathaniel’s body through his shirt and it was more than enough to let little problem appear in their trousers. Nathaniel pulled away for a second and then immediately kissed Andrew’s neck. Andrew’s moan was muffled.
“Fuck,” he said as Nathaniel’s tongue left behind a wet mark on his neck and leaned forward to kiss Nathaniel’s neck too.
—
There was nobody in the restroom except them. Nathaniel found a sink, turned on cold water, and started to wash his hands. Little pain ran through his hands as if hundreds of little needles were inserted into the skin of his hands because of the cold water. Andrew stood near, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed on his chest. When Nathaniel finished, he said, “I think I should inform you,” he turned to Andrew, his lips stretched in his usual smile, “you’d better not think there is anything serious between us. Like, we just made one boring evening more interesting, no more.”
Andrew’s lips were stretching in the same smile. “Believe it or not, I wanted to tell you the same thing,” he said.
“Fine. Then, see ya, Andrew Minyard,” Nathaniel said, tapping two fingers to his temple in salute, spun on his heel, and made his way to the main room, leaving Andrew.
Nathaniel knew it was his last banquet but this knowledge didn’t cause him any special feelings; after all, Exy was just a temporary entertainment, no more. In fact, he wasn’t even supposed to be here – after all, he’s already not on the team therefore there was no need in being here. But he had to finally make sure the Foxes were a safe option.
He spent a year playing the Raven’s team in the hope he would find something for himself – something that could hold him, give him the feeling of stability he had never felt in his whole life. However, no matter how much he hoped he had always known his attempts were futile, initially at the edge of his mind. In Kevin’s opinion he was just ‘wasting his talent and bright future’ but Nathaniel knew better – his future couldn’t be ‘bright’ a priori. Not when he had blood on his hands. Not when Nathaniel didn’t care enough.
—
The second time they met was at the parking lot during Kevin’s and Jean’s escape. Actually, Nathaniel planned to make their escape in January however an unforeseen situation happened. To be exact, Riko breaking Kevin’s arm.
Nathaniel had been planning Kevin’s and Jean’s escape from Evermore for months. Mostly because of the drugs he has to take every day. With the drug’s haze in his brain, he couldn’t concentrate enough to make a full plan quickly – he was clean only some hours of the day. And working for the Moriyamas, Ichiro Moriyama, to be exact, was also taking his time. That was why he was excluded from his own plan. He belonged to someone above Riko Moriyama. Now it doesn’t matter anyway.
The plan was completed two months before the Winter banquet started, but that was only half the battle. He had to discuss it with Ichiro and try to convince him they were better off at Palmetto State University. Well, it wouldn’t be difficult given their friendly relationship.
—
“If you had the chance, where would you send them?” Ichiro asked as they both – Ichiro and Nathaniel – were standing near a picture window in the East Tower.
“I thought about it for a long time actually. I think Palmetto State University is the best option,” Nathaniel said as he brought a glass of wine to his lips.
“Never heard of it,” Ichiro said, peering at Nathaniel’s face.
“Oh, it’s no wonder. It’s not popular. They’re the smallest team in the NCAA, their coach takes athletes with difficult backgrounds.”
“I still don’t understand why you chose it,” Ichiro said.
The corner of Nathaniel’s mouth slightly lifted. “Actually, it’s because their coach is David Wymack,” he said, rotating the glass, “and he is Kevin’s father.”
Perhaps the surprise didn’t show on his face only due to years of practice. Or maybe Ichiro had already known it, who knows?
Nathaniel finally turned to him. “Because of this I guess it’s the best option,” he said.
—
And then, the next night, at 3 AM, Nathaniel knocked on the Wymack’s door. Even though it was the dead of the night, David Wymack listened to him carefully and after discussing with him a few more things, he agreed to recruit Kevin and Jean.
Everything was ready, they only needed to wait for the banquet.
—
Their eyes locked but they didn’t talk to each other. Nathaniel did not say anything to Andrew but he gave him his phone number in case of any unforeseen circumstances, despite already giving it to Wymack. There was no time and in addition, Nathaniel already felt nausea coming to his throat. His bones were already starting to ache. It felt like irritation was spreading in his chest and it seemed like it pressed on his ribs, making breathing hard. Like his inhalations weren’t enough to fully breathe, like there was too little oxygen. It was that sort of irritation that made you want to vomit and scratch your own skin until it bleeds.
That was how he felt when he was clean.
Nathaniel didn’t take his pill in time on purpose. He needed to be clean during their escape. He’d have to think quickly if something went wrong. However, despite his misgivings, it went smoothly.
Now he knew at least they were in some sort of safe.
—
They texted each other quite frequently after that. Their messages consisted of nothing significant. They tried not to touch on each other’s ‘hurting’ topics but sometimes they did. That’s how their little truth-for-truth game appeared.
—
“Nathaniel Wesninski,” Andrew said to the person standing behind him. “What brings such a busy man like you here,” his lips were stretched into a manic smile.
There was nobody in the locker room – all his teammates were already on the court except him. And probably, if he doesn’t hurry, Kevin will explode with outrage.
Nathaniel grinned. His smile didn’t bode well. “I have an attractive offer for you,” Nathaniel’s smile got wider, “how about we skip your practice?”
Andrew scoffed and raised his right eyebrow. “What makes you think I will?”
“Your turn in our little game and a little ice cream shop just opened not far from here,” Nathaniel said, playing with the key ring in his hand.
Andrew silently turned to his locker, put out a bottle with his pills, and turned to Nathaniel again. “Where did you park your car?” Andrew said.
Well, this was going to be fun.
—
“So, how long do you think before they notice we’re gone?” Nathaniel said from the driver's seat.
Andrew had just finished texting Kevin and glanced at Nathaniel. “Enough time to go to the store and buy a bucket of chocolate ice cream,” Andrew replied, watching buildings passing past them.
“Chocolate? Seriously? Who even eats it?!” Nathaniel winced and turned left sharply. Actually, it was a miracle they still didn’t get in an accident given there was nobody sane, but instead two medicated men in the car.
“I do,” Andrew said in the most serious voice he could make with the pill’s influence.
“I thought you were better than this,” Nathaniel said with a mocking tone.
Andrew grinned. “Oh, it’s a pity I don’t care.”
Nathaniel snorted in reply.
They spent the next several minutes in silence. Nathaniel was tapping his index finger on the wheel to the beat of some old song coming from the car radio. It wasn’t the sort of silence that usually happens after awkward moments and makes the air feel heavy. It was a very different quietness that smelled almost like comfort, like they had known each other for a long time and there was no need to say anything because everything was already said.
After a few minutes of deadly driving, they were at the right place. Andrew glanced appraisingly at the small building in front of him – it seemed it was more a café than a shop – and then his eyes flicked to Nathaniel who was already halfway into the café, playing with the key ring in his hand.
It was March but it was still a bit chilly. Moreover, that day was not full of sunlight – dark and heavy clouds gathered over Palmetto. However, it wasn’t going to rain, at least it seemed like it.
Nathaniel stopped at the café’s entrance, apparently waiting for Andrew, and turned to Andrew that was unhurriedly moving towards him. The usual smile was stretching on their faces. When Andrew was quite close Nathaniel pushed the door and a little doorbell made a characteristic sound. Nathaniel got the door for Andrew and said mockingly, “Your highness.”
Andrew raised an eyebrow at it looking in the ice blue eyes in which the flame of jest was getting stronger, and said “I’m not your prince.”
“But I wouldn’t mind if you were,” Nathaniel said without a second thought.
Andrew stared at him for a second and laughed. Nathaniel’s smile got wider.
—
They had already been at this fucking café for half an hour choosing a fucking ice cream flavor. Actually, there were plenty of flavors so it was quite difficult to choose one. Andrew was giving a deadly glare to the bucket of vanilla ice cream in Nathaniel’s hands.
“I knew you were a psycho but not that much,” Andrew winced with a bucket of chocolate ice cream in his hand.
“So, you are saying that half of that damn planet are psychos?” Nathaniel said, making a blurry hand gesture.
“Definitely,” Andrew replied.
These two idiots have been arguing about ice cream flavors for 20 minutes already. The situation was quite comic. Well, flirting and arguing are just one step apart.
“Oh, holy vanilla, if you hear me help me talk some sense into that asshole,” Nathaniel said, looking up at the sky or rather at the ceiling.
Andrew’s face spoke for itself.
—
“Have you ever tasted vanilla ice cream?” Nathaniel said breaking the silence. They spent half of the way in quietness but this time it was more awkward and heavy than the last one.
Andrew looked at him like the idiot he was. “Of course I have. How else could I say it’s flavorless?”
Nathaniel scoffed. “Maybe you tasted some different vanilla ice cream?”
Andrew said nothing but raised his eyebrow.
Nathaniel’s smile widened and he turned right sharply. “Oh, just imagine that. Different vanilla ice creams can have different tastes.”
Or maybe there was some sense in his words, who knows? At least Nathaniel was sure in his words.
“What’s your point?” Andrew said finally.
It seemed Nathaniel had been waiting for this question for an eternity. “Just taste my vanilla ice cream.”
Andrew thought about it for a minute before he said, “only if you taste mine.”
“Deal,” Nathaniel said, pulling over.
Andrew took Nathaniel’s ice cream with his plastic little spoon. “If I vomit it’ll be your fault,” he said, staring deadly at the substance of cream color.
Nathaniel scoffed. “Okay, but only not on my car seat. I don’t want to scrub your vomit.”
Andrew rolled his eyes and put a little spoonful of flavorless vanilla-frozen cream in his mouth.
“So?” Nathaniel asked as he peered at his face.
Andrew winced and swallowed it. “As disgusting as I remember.” Nathaniel found it quite hilarious. He enjoyed watching people’s reactions and emotions no matter what it was – happiness or anger, disgust or sadness, fear or loathing, surprise or despair. Andrew’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “You’re up,” Andrew said.
Nathaniel did accurately what Andrew had done; he scooped some of Andrew’s ice cream up with his plastic spoon and put it into his mouth.
Well, maybe Andrew wasn’t the dramatic one in his response.
—
Buckets of ice cream were forgotten; after their little ice cream exchange, they stared at each other for a while. It was not the case when they searched for something, no. It was a nagging feeling of wanting to just stare at each other without a word or a reason. It was like an obsession or a looping idea; the longer you look, the stronger your desire to keep on doing it. A gaze clings to one thing first and then jumps to another thing and then again to another and again, again, again. Andrew never noticed before how blue Nathaniel’s eyes are. It seemed like there were whole glaciers in his eyes, like they are fathomless. They were frightening and fantastic at the same time.
Surprisingly the one who broke the silence was Andrew. “Yes or no, Nathaniel,” Andrew asked.
Nathaniel’s eyes flicked to Andrew’s eyes immediately. He peered in them for a while before he said, “yes.”
“Only hair,” Andrew reminded him, “you?” he asked.
“Waist and up,” Nathaniel said and got closer from his seat.
Andrew nodded.
They were kissing like it was the last time they would see each other. Time stopped for them in such moments. The world tilted. Their lips were still sweet and a bit cold because of the ice cream but soon all sweetness was licked and there was no matter whether it was chocolate or vanilla. It seemed like there were only soft lips, frequent breathing, and fast heart rates caused by the lack of oxygen. There were only his hands dug in blonde hairs and tugging them slightly and Andrew’s hand on his shoulders. There was nothing but them.
Nathaniel walked away. They both breathed heavily. “It’s nothing serious, remember?” Nathaniel said with his eyes half-closed.
“I hate you,” Andrew said with his lips streached in manic smile.
Nathaniel laughed in response and they continued.
—
After that day they saw each other a few times – a huge amount of work was dumped on Nathaniel. Sometimes if Nathaniel worked near Palmetto he managed to find a few free hours and come to them – to Kevin, Jean, and (he’ll never admit it) Andrew.
Everything went well and it disturbed him. Something was going to happen. This idea flashed in his mind every fucking day and he couldn’t get rid of it no matter how much he tried. No matter how much he repeated to himself that everything was well, and everyone was safe it was futile since his brain worked against him.
And his paranoia made sense. Because on the afternoon of May 23 when Nathaniel was just finishing his work Kevin called him and said Andrew was in the hospital, he said Aaron had murdered a person and it all happened on Nicky’s birthday. “But Kevin and I are fine,” Jean said, it seemed his voice was a bit far. Jean was seating next to Kevin. And as luck would have it he was quite far away from them. When he was already halfway there Kevin called him again and said they had already taken Andrew out of the hospital and told him to go to the cousins’ house in Columbia. Nathaniel had been there a few times when Andrew invited him earlier to Eden’s Twilight.
It was time to take his pill but he skipped it again – he will have to think clearly when he gets to the cousins’ house. Myriads of thoughts were racing in his head; it was more like a beehive. Like there was nothing but buzzing in his head. And he couldn’t catch any of them. He wishes he could turn off his mind.
And since when had he started to get bothered like that by someone? There was no one important but Kevin and Jean earlier. They were both in the safe so why was he going to Columbia? Since when had Andrew Minyard become the important one? Nathaniel couldn’t respond to these questions. Or maybe he just didn’t want to. There are some sorts of questions we don’t want to answer, you know. These were exactly those sorts of questions.
Soon Nathaniel was on their doorstep. There was another car that he didn’t recognize but he just shook his head and made his way to the door. The first one who met him was Nicky. It seemed he was nervous, frightened, and frustrated at the same time. He didn’t need to talk – everything was written all over his face.
As it turned out later, a man named Drake tried to rape Andrew and Aaron got there in time and murdered Drake. Nathaniel was leaning against the kitchen wall and listening carefully to Kevin. He had already made sure Kevin and Jean were okay. “They should release Aaron on bail soon.” It was the last thing he heard from Kevin before the kitchen door opened and Wymack, Andrew, and some woman came in. Andrew’s skin was paler than usual – that was the first thing Nathaniel noticed. Looking at his eyes and mimics it was clear that he was sober. Nathaniel stayed at his spot whereas Kevin went out of the room. Andrew took a seat on a chair near a table and Wymack with the women stood across from them.
The one who broke the silence was the woman. “Nathaniel, right?” she said and Nathaniel nodded. “I am Betsy Dobson, the team psychiatrist. Nice to meet you.”
Nathaniel nodded again and shook hands with her.
Mostly they discussed the possibility of Andrew’s rehabilitation. Nathaniel was a bit confused by Andrew’s calm behavior. He expected everything – from protests to threats – but not calm. Probably he had had one more conversation about it before, he thought. Nathaniel didn’t take part in conversation most of the time, he only sometimes gave comments. It was like that until it came to Easthaven.
“No,” Nathaniel said immediately as his eyes bored into Betsy Dobson. It seemed like the temperature in the room dropped by several degrees. It seemed like even something in his eyes and his voice became sharper. “He is not going to Easthaven,” his words sounded very clearly.
Wymack and Andrew turned to him. Betsy turned her focus to Nathaniel in surprise. “Why not? Are you worried about something, Nathaniel?” Betsy said.
Nathaniel peered at her for a second before he said, “Yeah. Exactly. I have some concerns about something.” Or rather someone flashed in his mind.
Nathaniel knew they would not take his words for it; nobody sane would, especially when he was a stranger to them (maybe except Andrew but Nathaniel doubted Andrew trusted him). So, he tried to explain briefly to them the circumstances – there was a high risk of some doctors being bought by Rico. Andrew’s expression was blank. There was not even a hint of change in Andrew’s façade the whole time he was there.
They seemed to be listening to him carefully and eventually, Wymack said, “And what’s your solution?”
Nathaniel was slightly surprised; he expected they would ask for more evidence or something like that but they did not, they believed him and it was odd for him. Hell, he had even prepared the evidence in advance because he was absolutely sure they would ask for them! Nathaniel looked at Wymack in a stupor for a minute before he said, “there is one rehab hospital I’ve checked recently. It is not as near as Easthaven but I can assure you it’s safe.” He didn’t say it was safe since it was located in his area of influence but there was no need to say that. “You can check it by yourself if you want,” he said to Betsy and she nodded.
When Wymack and Betsy went out of the room he turned his eyes to Andrew. There was a silent question on his face. “I’ll watch them,” Nathaniel said to Andrew. “I promise you,” he added.
“Why am I supposed to believe you, Nathaniel?” Andrew said with his throat tight.
“Abram,” Nathaniel said. Andrew only raised his eyebrow in question. “Call me Abram,” he went to him and dragged Andrew’s hand under the shirt and pressed it to his torso which was covered with myriads of scars. Andrew’s eyes dropped to his shirt but Nathaniel continued, “it’s my middle name. That’s what my mother used to call me. ‘Nathaniel’ is related to my father. I hate him.”
Andrew raised his eyes and said, “Your father? I thought he was dead.”
Nathaniel scoffed. “I wish he was.” And a minute later he said, “I’ll tell you about him if you want when you return from the hospital.” Andrew nodded.
A few hours later Betsy and Andrew were on their way to the hospital.
—
Six weeks later Nathaniel was told the rehabilitation was successful and Andrew was taken back to Palmetto. Since he couldn’t go to Palmetto he texted a short message to Andrew.
Congrats on your recovery, shorty. Welcome back
He put away his phone and turned to the man tied to a chair in a basement. “I’m in a mood today so you have a choice,” he said to the man putting his hands behind his back. His voice was cold but his mouth was widening in his usual smile. “We can do this the easy way and you tell me to whom you and your little friends supply weapons and other shit or we can do this the hard way,” he reached out to the one of knives on the table.
“F-fuck you,” the man said.
Nathaniel’s smile widened and he put away the knife. “So, I suppose we are doing this the hard way, right?”
—
The next day, in the afternoon, Nathaniel was already in Palmetto. He parked his car in the parking lot near Fox Tower and made his way to the building. Nathaniel was not really often there, but he knew which dorm room Andrew lived in. He went up to the Fox’s dormitory and knocked on the door of room 317 and opened it.
There were only Nicky and Aaron who were playing a video game and Kevin and Jean who were re-watching the Trojans’ game. Nicky said Andrew wasn’t there. The first thought that came to his mind was the roof. Of course, it would be the roof. Andrew showed his little hangout in February. So, he headed to the stairs leading to the roof. Andrew was there as expected. He didn’t turn to him when Nathaniel got to the roof.
He came closer to Andrew. “Hi, shorty!” Nathaniel said. There was the usual smile on his face while Andrew’s expression was blank. Nathaniel took a seat near Andrew and only then did Andrew speak, “Give me one good reason not to push you off the side,” Andrew said as he lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.
Nathaniel grinned, plucked the cigarette from Andrew’s unresisting fingers, and took a short drag, “I’d drag you with me.” And after a while said, without any hint of a smile, “You were supposed to be a temporary attachment actually,” he said with a blank expression.
“And you weren’t supposed to be real. You were supposed to be a pipe dream,” Andrew said. He shook another one from a pack of cigarettes and lit it.
They smoked in silence for a while; neither of them said anything. They just smoked and watched passing cars. Andrew was the one who broke the silence. “What about your father, Abram?” he asked.
Nathaniel lost his breath. He hasn’t been called by that name for ten years. He glanced at Andrew. He told Andrew before his rehab that he would tell him about his father. He cleared his throat. “I was eight when…”
He was eight when his father, his worst nightmare, killed his mother – the only person who cared about his miserable life – who had tried to run away.
Why didn’t she take him with her? Because she had no time? Or had she seen his father in him? Or did she just not want to? Such questions were in his head when his father told him his mother had run away. And a few hours later – it was the summer evening – she was brought back. And maybe it would be better if she was killed on that highway because Nathan brutally tortured her for the whole night.
That night Lola invaded his room when he was going to go to bed and pulled him out of the room. That whole night he spent in the basement, looking at what would burn into his memory forever.
The first thing he saw when he went into the basement were brown little spots on the concrete floor. The deeper he went into the room the more intense and bigger were the spots. Suddenly his eyes ran into a small dark beige thing on the floor. Its shape was quite weird and seemed to be some kind of liquid. He looked at it for a few seconds before he decided to take his eyes away. And when he looked up he was horrified. His mother was tied to a chair. There was no space on her skin – it was covered with darkened and violet bruises. Her hair was clotted – dried blood was in them. What she was wearing didn’t look like clothes – it was more like hanging rags.
But what drew his attention was her eye. It was missing. Then when he looked around he saw, among other torture tools, a bloody soldering iron. Suddenly he realized it was burned before his eyes flicked back to his mother. It felt like he was going to vomit.
“Junior, I was waiting for you,” his father said, coming out of the corner of the room.
A drop of cold sweat rolled down his spine. How could he not have seen him? Apparently, he was too fixated on the environment.
“Did you gauge my work of art?” his father said with a smile on his face.
A work of art. That’s what he called the crippled women.
The second wave of vomit came to his throat.
“Oh, Junior, my biggest disappointment, what’s with your face? Are you still sorry for her?” his father said, slowly approaching him. Little Nathaniel started to fade back and came to a dead end. Nathan crouched down in front of him and took his chin with one of his hands.
“After all she did? Just look at her. Don’t you still understand? She abandoned you,” he said, pronouncing the last words very clearly. “She wanted to run away without you. Do you know why?” he asked, smiling disgustingly.
Nathaniel shook his head. What else could he do? He glanced at his mother. She was desperately shaking her head – she couldn’t speak because of a gag in her mouth.
“Because she’s a traitor, Junior,” his voice turned harsh and cold. “She betrayed and renounced you. She’s selfish, so why are you sorry for her? I’m sure she wasn’t sorry for you when she decided to run away without you.”
At that moment something finally and irrevocably cracked inside the little boy. It had been slowly breaking for many years and then it finally happened. He was flicking his eyes from his father to his mother for a minute and couldn’t decide whom to believe. He was so tired though he had been there less than an hour. The only thing he wanted was to fall in bed and cry. He was just a child! What could he do?
Nathan stood up sharply. The loud sound of a closing heavy metallic door as Romero went into the room put him out of his mind. He felt his head – his entire body – got heavy as if it were filled with lead, as if only then did the haze of dreamy fog irrevocably cleared away, as if only then did he feel the whole weight of the reality. The flavor of helplessness and desperation tasted bitter on his tongue – so bitter that his jaw was aching.
“If he moves, hold him,” Nathan told Lola, pointing to Nathaniel.
Lola nodded.
“She is yours,” he told Romero. “Do what you want with her. I don’t care,” he waved his hand.
And then his father said something the boy didn’t hear and went out of the basement.
Romero grinned and gave Nathaniel a mocking look. The boy’s shoulder was pinned to the wall by Lola. He flicked his eyes to Lola.
“Stay still Junior, or new scars might accidentally appear on your body,” Lola said with a deceptively gentle voice, playing with the knife in her hand. “Do you get it?” And when he didn’t answer quickly enough, she hit his shoulder hard against the wall. “Answer, Junior!”
He tried to say he got it but he just couldn’t – there was a lump in his throat like he had swallowed a big pill dry. It seemed like there was going to be a bruise at the impact site.
His attention was drawn by the thud of something falling on the floor. He looked up and saw his mother on the floor – probably she was the one who had fallen – and Romero started to tear off her clothes (actually rags).
Nathaniel didn’t understand at first why he was even doing it but a few moments later when he ended up with her clothes he started to rape her. The boy’s eyes got wider. Little Nathaniel just couldn’t believe his eyes. And Romero was doing it faster and faster.
Poor, poor Mary…
The sound of hurried breathing was too loud, the humming was too loud, all sounds were too loud in his head, he wanted to block his ears, do anything but hear it. He closed his eyes tightly and opened them again as if to be sure of the reality of what was happening.
He made an attempt to block his ears but Lola immediately stopped him by making a quite deep cut on his shoulder. The boy hissed.
“Junior,” she said, grinning dangerously, “do you have some problems with your memory? Or are you so desperate to get new scars? Stay still or next time you’ll be in her shoes,” Lola pointed to his mother with the knife in her hand.
He lost his breath.
“Do you get it?”
He nodded quickly and flicked his eyes to his mother again.
He didn’t remember how long it lasted; Seconds were days, were years. But he clearly remembered the moment when Romero stopped – Mary was hardly breathing – it became very quiet as if all sounds seemed to have disappeared from the planet. It was so quiet that he could hear his own heartbeat…
He barely remembered their next actions. For the last half an hour he could hardly stand by himself, not falling only due to his pinned shoulder. And when Lola let go of it to finish off his mother it was a miracle he didn’t fall. He was too tired and wanted to sleep. How long have they been there? It felt like weeks.
When they finally finished with Mary they ordered the boy to bury her in the backyard. Of course, they could dispose of the body in other ways but they found it funny to watch him burying his own crippled mother.
It was the twilight that usually happens before dawn – the time when the sun is not up yet, when it was only just going up, when it is a cross between darkness and daylight, when quietness smells like sleep, when everything is so retarded.
The little boy dragged the heavy dead body along the dew-covered grass. Little drops of dew so cold that his bare feet were numb as he got to the right place. Nathaniel tried not to look at his mother as he dragged her. His legs were shaking with cold and fatigue and his hands were tremored like before hysteria. And when he dropped his eyes he noticed a bloody trace near her mouth. Suddenly he remembered the dark beige thing he saw on the floor of the basement. The last piece fell into place. The thing was her severed tongue. It was the last straw. Nathaniel fell to his knees and vomited out whatever was in his stomach.
–
The only things Mary left behind were knowledge of the mafia world, paranoid fear, and the smell of cigarettes that seemed to soak into all of his clothes and there wasn’t a single detergent that could remove that smell.
The four following years were a mixture of unbearable pain, endless practice (not only with Lola but also with his father), abuse, guilt, and self-loathing.
-
“You’re just like him, Junior,” Lola once told him, grinning like crazy. “Your pretty eyes are just like his,” she said stroking his cheek gently.
“You’re a lot like your father,” the ‘important’ guests who were invited to the special banquet in his house all told him. At that moment he couldn’t stand the looks they gave him. He was overwhelmed with the disgust that ran through his body, with bitterness and bile and the fury that made him make a fist until his joints were bloodless.
“Like father, like son, Nathi,” Romero said. ‘Nathi’ was Romero’s favorite nickname for Nathaniel. It may seem like a gentle nickname. Loving parents and relatives used to use it. But the way Romero always said it had a very different context. ‘Nathi’ sounded sticky and cloyingly, as names usually sound in that context. And Abram hated it. Every time he heard it a new wave of disgust came to his throat. He wanted his eardrums to burst better, but never to hear it again. Nathaniel seemed like the best name in the world in comparison with Nathi.
It was another practice with Romero. Romero left a crippled dead body for Nathaniel and watched as it fell on the boy. Nathaniel’s eyes widened when he realized he was pinned down by a massive dead body to the concrete floor. Terror and wild panic gripped him. He just couldn’t move. He felt the metal smell of blood (it was all over the room before but then he clearly felt it), Romero’s wide smile, and the still warm dead body.
That evening he was in the shower three times longer than usual, trying to wash the invisible dead man’s touch off and the dried blood under his nails. And when he finished washing he looked up at the mirror. The little boy from the looking-glass staring back at him had the same wet auburn hair, the same icy blue eyes, he was as tired as the original Nathaniel.
“You’re as disgusting as he,” his reflection said, “you’re no different from him.”
“Shut up,” Nathaniel said through gritted teeth.
“You’re a monster, Nathaniel. We are a monster. And you know it. You were the one who let her die, weren’t you?”
“I didn’t want to— I couldn’t— I—”
“You are as miserable as your excuses. Stop trying to defend yourself, it’s your fault,” Nathaniel from the looking-glass said, looking at the original Nathaniel derisively.
It’s your fault. It’s your fault. It’s your fault. It’s your fault. It’s your fault. It’s your fault, Junior.
Lola and Romero tried to remind him of it every time they could. His mind repeated that it was his father’s fault every time as they drummed it into his head, however some sticky lump was starting to emerge at his heart spreading the stench of guilt and slowly poisoning his organism.
“It’s not my fault, my father is the one who is to blame! He killed her!”
“If you deny the truth it will not change it, you know. It’s futile,” his reflection scoffed.
“Shut up.”
“Just admit it and live with it.”
“Shut up!”
The next moment the mirror fragments scattered all over the bathroom with a loud noise. His fist started to pulse with sharp pain. The smell of fucking blood appeared again.
“Junior, I heard a noise from your room!” Lola said, stretching the syllables out and going directly to him.
Nathaniel sighed.
He hates mirrors.
Andrew didn’t give a single comment for the whole story. “You do know it's not your fault, right?” Andrew said and looked at him after Nathaniel was quiet.
Nathaniel said nothing in response but smiled wryly and took a deep drag.
“I’ll kill him,” Andrew finally said.
Nathaniel scoffed. “Get in line. I’ve been plotting his murder since I was thirteen. Anyway, how would you dispose of the body?” Nathaniel said, genuine interest starting to increase in his eyes.
“I’d remove his teeth first and hack his enter body and then bury it somewhere,” Andrew said after a few minutes of thinking. “Or I would probably throw it in Lake Superior,” he shrugged his shoulders.
Nathaniel’s smile widened. “Why Lake Superior?” he asked.
“Bodies don’t float there,” Andrew said without a second thought. Nathaniel laughed.
“I’d dissolve his body in nitric or hydrofluoric or fluor antimonic acid. Or in any other acid that could dissolve it. Or I’d dissolve him and his people one after the other in different acids and see which acid is the best one. I haven’t decided yet actually,” Nathaniel waved his hand and reached out to take another cigarette.
They were sitting on the roof, smoking and discussing the possible ways of disposing of Nathan’s body until it was getting dark. When they first met they didn’t realize how much they would depend on each other. Their worlds consisted of unbearable never-ending boredom in which they seemed to have been drowning for a long time. And then the fucking banquet changed it.
Among numb feelings and boring people that hurt them, didn’t take their opinion, used them like they were only things – just things; broken souls, sharp fragments that were doomed to wander the world and hurt each person whose life they came in – a small spot flashed with muffled colors among all the rest. And it seemed so unreal, so futuristic. Like it actually was a pipe dream. However, everything was so precise, it was real. And they were real.
And something changed. It changed all their world, turned it upside down as if a chaotic whirlwind swept through their bodies, leaving behind millions of fluttering butterflies that were hitting their ribs so hard and tickling their stomachs.