The Dark Part of Me (22 page)

‘Scott?’

‘Yep.’ He didn’t look up.

‘I’m so rank for you.’

‘Rank? You mean, horny?’ He glanced to his left and right, then quick as a flash brought a pill to his mouth and swallowed. ‘It’s the ecky,’ he said. ‘Another
one and you’ll want to fuck the universe.’ I was about to tell him it was more than just the drugs when he held a finger to my lips and popped another pill. He grabbed the back of my
neck and pulled me towards him. He opened his mouth so I could see the green elephant, perched on his tongue. Then he pashed me and my whole world collapsed to just me and him. The hard, bitter
edge of the pill thrust upon my tongue.

‘That was for yesterday,’ he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear. I took a gulp from my water bottle and swallowed. I opened my eyes. Everything was sharp and bright and
perfectly clear as if the pill had taken instant effect. I leant forwards and wrapped my arms around Scott’s neck, squeezing so tight my brain shuddered in its cavity.

‘I better get back to the boys,’ he said, pulling away.

He slipped the alfoil down his sock and put his Converse back on. I traced my fingers, soft as spider’s legs, up and down his arm.

‘Scott, there’s something I want to ask you.’

He went to get up but I jerked him back down by the wrist.

‘You’ve got to tell me.’

‘Tell you what?’

‘Is there someone else?’ I paused, my heartbeat speeding out of control. ‘Some Asian-looking chick?’

‘Hey, not now, OK?’

He got up. I got up. We stood, side by side, not saying anything, peering into the shadows. Less than a metre away, a girl orgasmed hysterically, her bare legs viced around the naked torso of a
scrawny guy.

‘Don’t go,’ I said.

He lifted his head. His mouth was smudged red with my geisha lipstick. His eyes flitted over my face but he didn’t look me in the eye.

‘Babe,’ he said, rubbing his fingers back and forth across the shiny glass beads of his necklace. ‘I’ve gotta go.’

‘What about yesterday?’

‘You said it was casual. Remember?’

I went cold and clammy. ‘Yeah, but I thought you—’

‘Fuck, babe. You’re doing my head in.’ He turned to go.

‘Wait.’ I stepped in front of him.

‘I’m going back outside.’

‘Please, tell me.’ My head swam with a million hacked-up pieces of the Asian chick; her pearly limbs, her superior smile.

‘There’s nothing to tell,’ he said, pushing past me. ‘Take it easy, babe.’

He disappeared behind the black curtain.

I slid down the wall. I could feel tiny explosions in my head, like the pop of soap bubbles, and my stomach cramped with a hollow, aching emptiness. I pulled my knees up to my chest and chewed
on a piece of my hair. To my left, a guy and girl were masturbating for each other, their hands twitching like gerbils in their undies. I looked away, rankness clinging to me like dirt. I sat on my
foot, pressing my heel into my crotch, sucking on my water bottle. The full force of sex and lust and badness sizzled in me. It wasn’t fair. I slipped my hand inside my undies, touched the
dampness, sunk my teeth into my arm.

‘He no good fella.’

Startled, I looked up, whipping my hand out of my knickers.

It was Danny.

Still naked and mud-smeared, he crouched down besides me, penis dangling. The lingering stench of the dead wallaby on his skin was unbearable. And yet, I was strangely happy to see him.

I leapt up. ‘What are you doing here?’ He must have climbed the outdoor fence.

‘Me spear him?’ Danny jabbed at the air with the sharp end of his spear.

‘Danny, cool it, alright?’ I glanced around but everyone was either too fucked, or too busy fucking, to notice him. ‘I thought I told you to go home.’

‘I’m here for a reason.’ He stood up, brandishing the spear above his head. Across the room, a line of chilling ravers looked up.

‘Don’t worry. He won’t hurt you,’ I said, but they didn’t seemed too bothered. They probably thought he was just in some kind of extreme rave kit. I needed to get
him out of the place before someone not so wasted got suspicious. I turned to Danny. ‘For fuck’s sake, what are you doing?’

He lunged forwards as if sparring with an imaginary enemy. Taking him by the hand, I bee-lined across the room but Bomber and Muzza were coming through the curtain. I tried to push past them
with Danny, hoping they wouldn’t recognize him, but they both stopped dead in front of us.

‘Man, either I’m having a really ripped trip or that’s Danny Bailey,’ said Muzza, his face glowing blue-green in the eerie light.

For once, Bomber was quiet. He looked Danny up and down, lingering over his cock and the white markings on his chest.

‘What a nutter!’ said Muzza.

‘Fuck me,’ muttered Bomber. ‘Woody said he was out.’

‘Hey, Danny, what did they do to you in there?’ Muzza was in fits.

‘A bit of anal therapy, I reckon,’ said Bomber, slipping back into wanker mode. ‘He’s off his fucking dial.’

‘Fuck off, Bomber,’ I said.

‘Where is he?’ said Danny, stabbing the air with his spear.

‘Who’s he talking about?’ said Muzza, stepping back out of Danny’s range.

‘He doesn’t know what he’s doing,’ I said to Bomber and Muzza. ‘Why can’t you just leave him alone?’

I turned to lead Danny away but he was scampering down the stairs.

I was searching for Danny on the ground floor when I ran into Trish. She’d taken off her top and was hardcoring, sweat running in rivers between her breasts. Her left tit
was pierced with a silver hoop ring which spangled under the strobe.

‘You ripped, babe?’ she grinned.

I asked her if she’d seen a guy with a spear but she threw back her head and laughed at me, a wild, crazy cackle, and dragged me onto the dancefloor. My second ecky was mounting, all these
crazy pulses zooming around in me. I breathed deep and zoned into the music, my heart sparking. The beat was infectious and I started to rave.

A digitally altered voice boomed like the Wizard of Oz.

COME WITH ME.

The ravers screamed. A born-again vibe filled the air. Trish was raving so hard I thought she might explode. Her jaw rippled under skin, her stick arms whipped into a white blur. Her face glowed
with radiation intensity. The bass felt injected as if each note was riding, piggybacked, on my blood cells, gliding through my veins.

ON A JOURNEY INTO YOUR DEEPEST SOUL.

The ravers were primed and charged, their legs and arms and fingers rigid as steel. Under the strobe, everyone was green – a sea of supplicating aliens worshipping their DJ god. My heart
was pounding so hard it hurt, but I couldn’t stop raving.

TO DARK MAGICAL PLACES YOU HAVE NEVER BEEN BEFORE.

I was stuck fast to the floor, my molars chomping chewy like crazy, my cheeks sore from grinning. Trish went ape-shit, her body tight and writhing like a wind-up toy, beads of sweat like
diamonds flying off her into the air. God chanted in his robot voice.

REACH UP AND PICK THE FRUIT.

SINK YOUR TEETH DEEP INTO ITS SKIN.

I pressed my hand against my chest, willing my heart to slow down, but it was full to bursting, its curvaceous sides hard-walled with excess blood. Around me ravers thrashed and heaved. I turned
to Trish but she was head-massaging some girl-raver with blonde pig-tails.

FALL DOWN, MY BEAUTIFUL THINGS.

FALL DOWN DEEP INTO THE EARTH.

FILL YOUR SOULS WITH DECADENCE.

I felt the peak building inside me like an orgasm, taking me over. I needed Scott so I could fuck him. His smooth, hard cock rammed up me for ever. That’s all I wanted. The speakers
boomed.

THIS IS DJ-MEGATRON FROM SWEDEN.

TAKING YOU TO THE LIMITS.

TAKING YOU TO THE EXTREMES OF REALITY.

Trish was transfixed, her eyes closed, her lips parted like she was coming. I felt heavy, drowning, my body slick and tight and vibing as an eel. From the corner of my eye, I saw Danny, prowling
the edges of the dancefloor, spear poised as if for attack. No one seemed to notice him. It had to be some sort of fucked-up hallucination. To kill the demons, I turned back to Trish and grinned.
She grabbed me by the back of my head and clamped my mouth down on to her unpierced tit. ‘Suck me, babe.’ I sucked hard on her erect nipple. It felt awesome. I hoped Scott was watching.
She wrenched me onto the other tit. I put the hoop nipple-ring between my teeth and tugged, licking all the while with tongue. She scratched her fingernails back and forth along the base of my
scalp, getting faster and faster, as the beat accelerated towards the bomb.

‘Suck harder, bitch,’ Trish screamed, and I sucked harder, biting down on the tight bud with my front teeth. The climax was close. DJ-Megatron was teasing and squeezing us out like
sponges, our brains ripped and frazzled. Inside me something softly exploded and I felt a wet oozing in my groin. It was heaven; the sweet and salty taste of Trish’s skin and the swirling
heat of bodies, intimate and intense. My mind was sharp, colours surreally bright, the music infinitely textured, but my body had turned to mush. I took a breath, raising my head like I’d
been underwater.

Across the dancefloor, Scott was staring at us. He’d taken off his singlet and his chest gleamed wet. Our eyes snared and he raved over to us. I turned to Trish and shouted in her ear,
‘Pash me.’ Our tongues collided, writhing inside one another’s mouths. Scott came up behind me, biting into my neck, lifting my geisha-girl dress up high around my waist, wedging
his cock hard against my undies.

Nothing mattered now, nothing, except the glorious dripping of skin; the sharp tang of adrenaline; a soft sinking into blood-soaked oblivion; a gentle dipping into other people’s bodies.
We all felt it; our hearts wound tight as fuck, on the brink of the bomb. God was playing us, making us scream and ooze and melt and blaze with rankness. I could have ripped my scalp right off my
head and slithered out through the top, freshly born and bloody, pulsing and glistening with new life. I was cocooned; Trish in front, Scott behind. He tore off my dress and unhooked my bra so that
I was naked, except for my undies and my shoes.

Again, I saw Danny hovering on the edge, jabbing at the air with his spear. I imagined him striking his prey, blood spilling on the dancefloor. Powerless, I closed my eyes and sank back against
Scott’s hardbody while Trish licked and bit and sucked at my nipples.

CAN I TAKE YOU FURTHER?

Just when I thought it was all going to finally explode, DJ-Megatron ramped it up one more notch.

My skin was sliding in great sheaths off my body.

Scott put his hand down the front of my undies and strummed on my clit.

The ceiling whirled and spun rainbow colours overhead.

Danny’s spear floated through the air in a slow, graceful arc.

DJ-Megatron dropped the bomb.

My heart burst into a trillion tiny pieces and everything went black.

The first thing I heard was their fighting. It was the same fight they’d been having for the past fourteen years. I lay still with my eyes closed listening to them
bicker, trying to figure out where I was. If they were in the same room, it had to be serious.

‘Brings back memories being here, doesn’t it, Trevor?’ Mum was saying. ‘God knows I’ll never forgive you. It’s a wonder she even speaks to you.’

‘She could have died last Sunday bloody morning but where were you? Busy with some fella.’

‘That’s none of your business.’

I opened my eyes to a white ceiling. Dust motes drifted in broad beams of sunlight which slanted over my head. There were bleeping sounds and the distant rattle of a metal trolley. I turned my
head in the direction of Mum’s voice. The pillow scrunched, crisp and starchy in my ear.

‘She’s awake!’ Mum rushed to my side and kissed me wetly on the forehead. ‘Oh, Rosemary. I’ve been worried to death.’ I blearily took her in. She looked
different. She was wearing dangly earrings and her hair had been re-styled into a smart bob.

‘Nice hair.’ My voice was hoarse and squeaky.

‘You like?’ she said, fingering the blunt ends. From the other side of the bed, I felt a big, rough hand squeezing mine and I turned my head.

‘Hi, Dad.’ The sun blazed in through a large streaky window, making it hard for me to see him.

‘You’re going to be alright, daughter.’

I smiled at him, then fixed back on the ceiling, exhausted by the glare and all the head-turning. It felt like mid-afternoon. I was in a single bed, the top sheet tucked in tight as a
straitjacket around my chest. A long, cotton nightie rasped against my skin. A small telly with fuzzy reception, no volume, hung from the ceiling.
The Days of Our Lives
was on so I chanted
the corny intro in my head –
‘like sands through the hourglass; these are the days of our lives.’
As Mum leant in to fluff my pillows, I noticed a needle sticking into
the back of my left hand, strapped down with a piece of transparent tape. On my other arm, there was a fluorescent orange bracelet made of plastic which I figured was my hospital ID. I held my
wrist close enough to read
‘vion­*Oblivion­*Oblivion­*Oblivion­*Oblivion­*Oblivion­*Oblivion­*Oblivion­*Obli’
stamped in bold typeface. It meant
nothing to me.