Hellbound: The Tally Man (16 page)

‘Remorse: beholding Heaven and feeling Hell.’

George Moore

Chapter Twelve

08:27

OBADIAH woke suddenly, recognising Eva’s presence beside him, at once familiar and calming as he took note of her body. Curvy, skin smooth like ivory, it glistened slightly with morning perspiration. He allowed his eyes to take in the curve of her breasts, the shape of her leg that hung over the blankets and momentarily felt a sense of peace unlike anything he had ever known. Rolling over, Obadiah placed his head into the pillow, taking a deep breath and smelling his own perspiration.

Eva stirred and slid her body out against his, stretching silently against him as he moved to the edge of the bed. Obadiah looked down again at her face, her eyes closed, lips slightly parted. He recalled their fevered lovemaking, the musky smell of their bodies together, and the release of emotion which had flooded through him. Everything promoted him to realise his journey here had taken a very different path.

Slightly disorientated, Obadiah climbed from the bed and stood by the window. As Eva moaned her subconscious disappointment at the removal of his bodily warmth, he tried to ignore the sound of his heart pulsating in his ears, the nagging discomfort he noticed in his shoulder blades. Everything hadn’t reset as it had before. Therefore, what had changed? What was so special that he was now living another day? A next day.

When he had initially found himself here against all logical explanation, he had felt only disappointment at realising he was somehow experiencing an example of what could only be described as a perfect, almost Stepford life. He still had no idea why he had been deemed worthy of this accolade. He hadn’t wanted it. He didn’t want it. But after the incident with Ellie and his subsequent night with Eva, Obadiah found his dissatisfaction being replaced by a feeling he could only equate to fulfilment. During his time as The Tally Man, the very notion of it would have made him feel physically sick. Now, all he could think was that the previous three days repeating must have served a purpose leading to this. But to what end?

Obadiah began scratching at his shoulder as he moved out the bedroom and down the stairs to the kitchen. As he looked around, the ticking clock on the wall marking the beats of his memories, he sensed the house was a different beast to the one he had grown up in as a child. Where it had once been a place eliciting only feelings of desperation, now it seemed to radiate hope. It was almost as though it had deliberately redesigned itself to educe such feelings from him. His dreams as a child made manifest.

Preternaturally, Obadiah became aware of the oncoming pain before it hit, causing him to suddenly grabbed his head, the pulsating, pounding sensation intent on blasting through his skull. He frantically massaged his temples, eventually feeling the discomfort slowly ease.

How can you feel pain if you’re dead, Obadiah found himself wondering as his left arm began to tingle, the sudden pins and needles sensation causing Obadiah to tighten and relax his hand as he tried to reperfuse his extremities. Massaging his arm, he thought back to last night. A sentiment he had never considered open to manipulation had been enticed by his weak desire for flesh in the most carnal of ways. And boy, had taken pleasure in its release.

Shame had been an emotion Obadiah had considered a violation of his own, self-designed social values. Yet he knew without question that it had been shame he had felt being with Eva and not guilt. There were no internal conflicts about whether or not he had violated his own values. He had none.

Being with Eva was forcing him to wonder whether his own dark, narcissistic nature was his mind’s way of defending itself against shame, against everything he had done. Had one, pure moment of intimacy forced his arrogant, grandiose self to be broken down by the antithesis of another version of himself – a weak version? A human version? And, if so, who had been freed? An internalised Obadiah Stark who had hidden in shame ever since his father had first broken down his confidence? Or a man who had taken manipulation to the next level?

“Morning, Obi.”

Eva was stood behind him, her hands resting on his shoulders. He hadn’t even heard her come downstairs. Sidling around him and pulling out the chair next to him, her brow suddenly furrowed with concern as she looked at his face.

“Are you ok? You look pale.”

His arm still tingling, Obadiah abruptly ceased the massage and folded his arms across his chest, staring at the floor as though not seeing it. His focused stare was like that of a man lost in thought.

“Do you believe that you can do something so terrible it can never be forgiven?” His gaze remained fixed as though on something in the distance. Or the past.

“Obi, what’s the matter? What a bizarre question to ask first thing in the morning. What’s with the weirdness? You feeling okay?”

“I feel fine,” Obadiah replied tersely, ignoring the pain he still felt in his head and on his back. “But tell me. Do you believe in second chances, regardless of what you might have done?”

Eva placed her hands in her lap. “I don’t know really. You know I’m not a religious person. I guess we all have things we wish we’d never done, or would do over if we had the chance. Why? What’s happened?”

Obadiah’s momentary silence promoted Eva to lean closer. He looked up at her, his eyes lacking the intensity he had projected only yesterday.

“Who do you see when you look at me? Tell me honestly.”

Eva laughed until she realised he was serious. “I see the man I fell in love with. Someone in pain. Someone who’s supported his family despite his health. Someone who overcame a terrible childhood to become a man who makes me very proud.”

Obadiah remained expressionless. “Proud.” He let the word hang in the air for a moment, considering its dichotic nature given his past. “You know, some people can look at someone and see whatever they want to see, because they see whatever is in them. People are just mirrors.”

“What have you been reading? I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”

“What if I told you I had a dream last night…dreamt I killed people, lots of people. I did it with a smile. And in my dream, it felt good. It felt…right. What do you think that says about me?”

Eva touched Obadiah’s arm gently. “I think it means the tumour is causing you to have vivid nightmares. We were warned it could happen. It’s not real. We’ve had a rough few weeks granted, what with all that’s happened. But everything’s okay now.”

Obadiah could hear the sincerity in her tone and allowed it to momentarily wash over him. He wanted to believe what she was saying. He tried to believe that last night could have actually been real and not some sort of game he was subconsciously playing with Eva. Obadiah desperately wanted to believe it.

He scratched roughly at his shoulder, beginning to feel irritated. “You don’t understand what I’m trying to say.” Standing, Obadiah continued raking at his skin, the discomfort he could feel increasing.

“Let me see that,” Eva responded, trying to shift the momentum of a conversation that was making her uneasy. She moved over to Obadiah, lifting his T-shirt and examining his shoulder blade as she gently caressed the area with her fingertips.

“It’s red, but I can’t see anything.”

Obadiah shrugged Eva away and moved towards the mirror in the hallway, raising his T-shirt back up as he walked. He turned sideways on, noting the fresh ink present to his surface dermis. Five new tallies, the surrounding tissue inflamed as though just applied, reflected back at Obadiah.

“That’s impossible,” Obadiah muttered quietly as he turned towards Eva. “You don’t see that?”

She stepped closer and examined his shoulder again. “See what? There’s nothing there.

Obadiah examined his reflection again, touching the area to assure himself that it was real. “You can’t see a tattoo?”

Eva stifled a smile. “Tattoo? Obi, you don’t have one and you certainly don’t have one on your shoulder. Why, have you been keeping secrets from me?” Her tone was playful, but Obadiah’s expression remained serious.

“I must be going fucking crazy.” Obadiah pulled his T-shirt back down and moved back towards the table, placing his hands on its surface and bending over whilst taking a deep breath. Eva was beside him, stroking his head.

“Oh, Obi. Maybe we should see someone about…”

“I don’t want to fucking see anyone,” Obadiah interrupted, slapping her hand away. “I don’t need catharsis, I need answers.”

“Answers for what? Obi, please listen to me. You need help. The last few weeks you have to admit you’ve been feeling a bit low. And what with Ellie nearly being killed a few weeks ago…it’s a lot of stress, especially when you’re not one hundred percent.”

Obadiah frowned. “What do you mean a few weeks ago? That was yesterday,” Obadiah responded firmly.

Eva shook her head sadly. “No, Obi. It was two weeks ago.”

“No, it can’t have been. It was yesterday…” His mind struggling to process what he was being told, Obadiah straightened up defiantly.

“No, it wasn’t. I think you need help. You’re getting worse.” The fear in Eva’s voice was clear.

Obadiah couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How could two weeks have passed and him not know.

What the hell…?

Obadiah began quickly trying to grasp what this picture that had been slowly emerging since his execution could mean. With no frame of reference of death to compare to, he could only assume that this is what it was like. But the reappearance of his tally… that had significance. In life, it had been his paradigm, his hierarchy leading towards self-actualisation. In death, it must mean something else entirely. He just didn’t yet know what it was or the purpose it now served.

Eva looked at him searchingly. “Obi, I don’t understand what’s going on.”

The anger he had momentarily forgotten whilst with Eva last night suddenly boiled up in him. He bolted up the stairs and quickly changed his clothes, all the time considering whether Eva was the constant that influenced everything that happened to him. She must be important in this whole situation. Therefore, the only way to know for sure was for her to die. If everything started again, he would have his answer. If not, he would be no worse off.

To hell with the afterlife and conforming. If I go to Hell, so be it. Better to reign there than serve whoever’s fucking with me here.

As he walked down the stairs back into the kitchen, even Obadiah was surprised at the vivid nature of his violent desires. Where last night Eva had represented a portent of redemption, something he had never imagined possible, now she was a focal point for his fury. He found himself imagining hurling her across the floor and beating her with his bare hands until her face splintered, her flesh burst and blood spat from her ruined mouth. Obadiah could almost hear her cries of anguish and he couldn’t help but smile.

Eva had moved into the living room when Obadiah grabbed her by the hair and threw her behind him, her body skidding across the laminate flooring. She looked up in horror as he reach down and pulled her back up, his large hand wrapped across her chin.

“You know, you almost had me there. For a moment you had me believing I could be someone else…someone better. Fuck, I actually woke up thinking that I’d had an epiphany. But this whole situation, you lying to me…it just won’t do Aoife.”

Eva’s tears ran over Obadiah’s hand as she spoke, her voice trembling. “Obi, I’ve never lied to you. I love you. Why are you doing this?”

“I’m doing this because it’s who I am.” As he spoke he seemed to freeze for a moment, his voice momentarily laced with actually sadness. “I was a monster who dreamed he was a man and loved it. But now the dream is over, and the monster is awake.”

Shaking his head, his face taking on a blank expression, Obadiah shoved Eva around by her shoulder towards the kitchen table, her body smashing into a chair. Stumbling to regain her footing as he marched towards her she looked at him in shock, unable to process what was happening.

“Obadiah, listen to me. You’re not well. This isn’t you… please.”

Ignoring Eva’s pleas, he grabbed her by the arm and picked her from the floor. “Obadiah,” she begged despite his hold on her arm and now neck. “Please, I know this isn’t you. You’re getting worse. Please, listen to me. I love you….we love you, Ellie and me. You’re not yourself…”

His hand gripped her face, covering her mouth. Obadiah’s face darkened. “STOP IT,” he screamed at her, instantly ashamed at his loss of control. Never before had he allowed emotion to overtake him in such an aggressive manner. The pain in his head had intensified, as though molten metal was being poured into his skull, oozing across the ménages and reservoirs of his brain. He wanted to tear of his skin and scratch at his skull.

“This is all a lie, a fuckin’ lie. This isn’t real, none of it. A wife, a child, a fuckin’ happy home life. This isn’t me. People like me don’t get second chances. I don’t know what this is, but I know what it isn’t. This isn’t redemption. This is punishment. This couldn’t be a more perfect vision of Hell if I had imagined it myself.”

Eva, still restrained by Obadiah, gently touched his arm and moved his hand, not frightened by the darkness now present in his eyes. “Obi, we’re your family. We want to help you. Please, let us help you.”

Obadiah looked intently into Eva’s eyes. “Aren’t you afraid?”

She replied softly, her hand rising to gently stroke his face. “Only for your soul, Obi.”

His face, previously etched with rage, softened slightly. His once fiery eyes began to lose their intensity, their arrogance as the words he had heard moments before he died hit him like a punch to the face. He felt his anger dissipating as though being sucked into a black hole, in its place a growing mortal sense of apathy for all he had done in his life. Obadiah realised if he were to carry out his intended act of wanton violence, any spark of humanity he had felt last night would retreat into obscurity, taking all hope with it. The realisation that he could lose the memory of what he had experienced with Eva and Ellie, even if it only constituted a microcosm of human emotion, crashed over him like a tidal wave, crushing all the remaining hatred he felt in this moment.