The Rot (2 page)

Die Already

My life is much darker these days. Little light penetrates the grimness of my soul. How can I explain it? Where do I start without sounding like a lunatic? I call it a curse, but some people call it a gift.

I was only eight. It was one of those hot humid summer days when the air is so humid it’s difficult to breathe. My best friend Rudy and I decided to go fishing -- or what we thought was fishing, since we learned later that the little silver fish we had our hearts set on catching were actually bait for the bigger guys. Never the less, we headed down to Quiet Creek with and our poles and my favorite tackle box (a gift from my grandpa), chocked full of bobbers, weights, and lures.

Needless to say, with lures twice the size of the small fry we did not hook any of them. Much to our horror, what did latch onto my eight-hook lure was a glistening emerald green frog with dappled brown spots. As it wriggled and struggled to break free, the hook dug deeper into its neck. It entangled itself in the line and looked so helpless with every panicked lurch. By the time I got close enough to try and dislodge the hook, its underbelly was ripped wide open and its entrails fell out. Rudy and I totally freaked out. We cut the line and ran home.

The following day we returned. The frog was half eaten away with the hook still speared through its upper torso, but to our amazement it was looking up at us blinking its eyes. How could this frog still be alive? Why wouldn’t it die?

Throughout my life these strange unexplainable events heightened. It was futile to try and kill even the most disgusting of insects that landed on me. I would smash their bodies with the swift impact of my hand. But even though their mangle bodies appeared lifeless, I would see them twitch weeks later.

One day on my way to school I hit a dog with my car. I messed it up horrifically. His body was strewn all over the road in a smear of crimson, fur, and guts. I began to pick up what was left of his body that sweltered in the morning sun. As I scraped his head off of the pavement, he looked directly up at me; his tongue trying to lick me as blood oozed from his mouth. There was no reason in the world why he should still be alive. Later that night I went down into the basement and emptied an old toy box I had as a child. I placed the remains of the dog into the box and dragged it out into the field where I buried it in a shallow grave.

I should have put more effort into digging the hole deeper because to this day on soft quiet summer nights, I can hear that damn dog whimpering from that grave even with years of growth covering it.

As time passed, I became more aware of this curse and tried to avoid people the best I could. I shut myself away from the world. I worried about what would happen if I was out in public and someone was torn to shreds in a car accident when I was present? Would they too not die?

It’s been almost three years since I met Samantha. I was delivering cleaning supplies to the local high school in town. After signing in at the main office, I headed toward the warehouse. All of a sudden the deafening sound of the fire alarm sounded.

I freaked out. Everyone filled the halls pushing and shoving while trying to make their way to an exit. A young lady lost her balance and fell back into me. I raised my hand and placed it in the small of her back. I felt the warmth and softness of her skin through her faded Counting Crows concert shirt. She turned her head and glanced at me. I was left breathless. Her sky blues eyes had me floating in them. She reached around and took my hand into hers and from that very moment she changed my life forever.

We began talking over the phone. And although I wanted to take her out, my fear of crowds kept me at bay. She never quite understood why I feared being around a lot of people. I just couldn’t tell her what a freak I am. So I chose to wait, and thankfully one day she decided to visit.

_________

Last night brought violent skies as Samantha came stumbling into my house. It was a sound that will forever haunt my waking moments and twilight. Her delicate body slapped against the steps falling viciously down into the dank-cold cellar. There she laid at the bottom of the steps in the dark.

I flew down the steps knowing that no matter what I did I could never end what she was experiencing. Her neck was broken and her skin was already turning into shades of purple. She looked like a rag doll with her head twisted upward while the rest of her body lay in a contorted mass.

Taking her into my arms I smelled alcohol on her; maybe that is what was keeping her from feeling any pain? Blood painted her lips a dark crimson as it began to leave her body. Her eyes flickered open and gazed at me. With confusion painted across her face, she tried to speak, but all she could do was make a gasping noise as her words searched for breath to form. As I gave her a hug, she tried to form words with her last breathe. I pushed closer into her body. Her voice was nothing more than delicate whispered gasps. “Why am I still alive? Let me die.” I began to cry. This was my love’s last request and I know I cannot fulfill it.

Tears welled up in her eyes. The eyes I cherished from the moment I saw them. The eyes that glowed with a feeling of belonging and connection were now filled with pain and no matter what I did the glimmer began to diminish until it left her eyes forever.

The morning came and sunlight slowly crept its way down the cellar steps. Samantha was still laying in the pool of blood staring up at me grinding her teeth, pleading with me to end the suffering.

What could be done? Her heart was not beating. Ripping open her cold body in the hope she would die would not solve the problem. She just continued to lay there -glaring at me wondering why I was so fucking cruel.

Calling the authorities would not have helped matters. They would have definitely put me away either way. I knew they would eventually come looking for her. My only hope was that maybe my own death would bring peace to her and the others I left in this tortured state of ‘in between’.

______________

Climbing the steps, the warmth of the sunlight caresses my skin. In the kitchen I take a bottle of wine off the rack. The dark lavender colored glass creates flashes of illumination across the walls as the rays filter through the liquid libation. I grab the corkscrew off the counter and head back down to the darkness of the cellar. Popping the cork brings attention to my arrival. Samantha’s teeth start grinding, and she struggles to open her mouth as her bloated purple tongue flops out.

Splashing droplets of wine upon her tongue, I see a fleeting moment of satisfaction cross her lips as she laps it up. Taking a swig myself, I let the flavor coat my taste buds. The fruits and nectars that gave their life for us will live on as we savor them for a lifetime.

I plunge the corkscrew into my arm, twisting and shoving the curved metal deep into a vain. As I thrust it farther it takes on a life-like serpentine appearance, worming its way under my skin and creating ripples as it dives ever deeper.

Samantha’s eyes start to flicker. She looks at me inquisitively. As I bend over and kiss her forehead, I rip the corkscrew from my flesh. Blood sprays from the open gape in my arm. The sound of my blood pounding onto the concrete floor is deafening as it intertwines with her pool of blood. My vision begins to blur and halos of color weave their way around objects that are bathed in sunlight. My body stiffens as a bitter cold sets in. I black out.

Fuck, it did not work. I am still here. And as I lay stiff over Samantha’s chest unable to move, I hear her grinding her teeth, pleading – begging to Die Already.

I awake in total darkness. I cannot move. My body is pressed hard against this structure. I feel as if I’m going to suffocate. As I struggle, the structure I’m entombed in sways back and forth. I can hear the sound of water as it slowly drips, and I can smell the scent of lilacs.

Every muscle in my body starts to ache. I’m trying to move, trying to break free. My body is gripped with pain. Claustrophobia is setting in, and I start to hyperventilate. I’m losing consciousness…

I awake again and notice the tightness of the structure is even more binding than before. It is crushing me. Is it shrinking? Or am I growing? I feel my body begin to morph as my skin begins to leak secretions. The walls of my cell become damp with this sweet yet sour, smelling pus as it pours out of my skin. The structure begins to give way as the pus eats its way through the walls. Streaks of daylight invade my eyes, drilling in like lightning bolts. How long have I been here? The darkness is no more.

As my eyes adjust to the daylight, the cool morning breeze flows through the openings in my cell. The walls start to flake and descend. I find myself hanging upside down as I finally gain physical control over the rest of my body. As I shake and stretch, the structure separates from me and falls to the ground. I release my grip and start to free-fall. As the wind blows, I catch onto it and I frantically ascend back into the air in a fluttering, uncontrollable motion.

The wind whips me into many different directions. One moment it is pushing me towards the earth, and the next, it is whipping me back into the sky. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a blur of a hand reaching out to snatch me out of the air. The force of the breeze from a child’s hand throws me into a whirlwind of flight as the pursuit rages on. As the earth below changes from a soft, grassy green surface to a concrete grey, I feel a force alter my flight, pulling me into a horizontal slipstream in the opposite direction.

The small bones in my captivatingly beautiful wings start to shatter as I fight against the current of air that spins me in a vortex. At the center of the vortex, I collide with the front grill of the gigantic mustard colored dump truck. My wings and my body instantly turn into nothing more than dust, leaving only a blur of my colors on the grill.

Steve looks up from the radio, and at the last moment, he sees the toddler bounding into the street in pursuit of the butterfly. He slams on the brakes, but with no hope of missing the little girl. The toddler keeps her focus on the butterfly, when the passenger front side of the truck hits her. The truck devours her the moment it makes contact. Her spine is shattered as she is thrown forward from the force of the impact. The studded tires catch up to her and rip her open as they screech across the pavement in a desperate attempt to stop.

I strain to see through my dirty windshield covered with bug carcasses. I see the mayhem of the toddler disappearing under the wheels of the truck. I quickly pull my car off to the side of the road in disbelief of this tragedy. The dump truck driver jumps out of his cab, looks at the front of his truck, then at the mangled body lying underneath the center of the chassis.

I frantically jump out of my car, leave it running, and rush over to see if I can help. The driver looks up at me and dashes in full stride towards his cab. With lightning speed, he hoists himself back up into the cab. I slip on the bloody road as I hear him throw his truck back into gear. The truck flies past me, knocking me back into the ditch as he speeds towards my car. The crash sounds like thunder and twisting metal as his truck bends my car into a pile of rubble. Grinding gears, he throws it in reverse to back up then slams it back into gear in a forward dash to flee the scene.

Blood is running down my face and oozing from my wounds as I climb out of the roadside ditch. I see cars approaching from the distance as I run toward the toddler’s mangled body. As the cars near me, they veer into the center of the road so as to avoid running over the tiny, mangled body.

Why won’t anyone stop to help? They just swerve past us and act like their only concern is getting remains of the young girl splattered on their freshly cleaned cars and SUVs. I run over and scoop the little girl up into my arms. Her body is moist in my arms. Her brilliant sky blue eyes flicker with life as she tries to speak, but only gurgles emit from her throat. I search my surroundings and start to run across the field towards the hospital just beyond a group of condos. The morning air is quickly becoming hot and sticky as I struggle to reach my destination.

As I enter the hospital, the crisp air conditioning washes over my body as I realize how strangely deserted the lower level is. I run across the white linoleum floor, still feeling the little girl gasping for life in my arms. I slam the buttons on the elevator, and watch impatiently as each little light blinks to life as the elevator approaches to open and let me in. The lobby becomes black as the light dims to nothing.