The Conductor.Missing..

MISSING

The brush-stroke slashes of some hue of grey and grey-black in the green vinyl-tiled floor beneath me beckoned my index fingertip to follow and skip along them with an oddly touched melancholy worthy of Nick Cave. My temple against my kneecap, I played on the slashes and strokes like piano keys.

I sat beside the blond wood doorway of the Counselors Offices, eyes hot and bloodshot, skin thin and brittle, bones numb. The door was locked, the air within black through the shatterproof glass and chicken wire sandwich, causing a kind of eliminating disappointment within me. To which I promptly slumped down the wall and waited. Like a pathetic dog.

The biting morning air had followed me inside building A1-AL, somehow shrouding me with invisibility. Staff and administrators, upright and stolid at this early morning hour, barely lifted a smart cow-brown shoe away from my folded form, dull eyes paying me absolutely no mind.

I was glad for that, in actuality.

The morning had yanked me from blest warm and fine slumber to a deeply-raw high-strung consciousness. The kind of awake that only kids on Ritalin and tweakers knew of. My eyes sprang open and searched the predawn darkness of my room in panic. For what though, I did not know. I felt as if something was terribly wrong, or miserably forgotten. Misplaced maybe? Missing. It felt like something important missing. And my heart sang like some cracked out lonesome dove for it, whatever it was.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, arms resting limp on my thighs, my mind swam and swirled at a pace I couldn’t comprehend. The missing was scaring me, like hanging from a ledge by fingernails. I blinked at the red LED readout of the time. 4:45. Numbers burning themselves onto my retinas, with the one little LED blazing beside it, letting me know that in an hour forty, the alarm would go off as annoying as a honking goose. Letting me know that the school day was upon me like vultures waiting out the dying man in the desert. Letting me know that any more sleep was as impossible as the earth opening and swallowing me up. Letting me know that time was in fact evaporating before my eyes.

I blinked slowly at the clock, wishing repeatedly to myself in a silent mumble, wishing that I knew what exactly it was that I was missing so badly. I began to sigh.

Breathing in deeply triggered astounding memory with quick and terrifying succession. Falling down stairs...

The odor of wet burnt woods and melted manmade materials hung in the air faintly, with the new clean musk of early morning fog.

Fire pure and bright, licking the starless sky that hung like a murky wine painting above the street, eating it’s way through a Bungalow. Blowing out windows. Devouring wall and ceiling. Neighbors in bedclothes, eyeballs mirroring the blaze, all standing in wonder and horrific awe. Black and red and white in the dark, and blinking lights. High pressure water hoses. Yellow caution tape. Emergency personnel barking orders, fumbling, rushing a stretcher of black and red.

Wild petrified eyes screaming mutely into the night. Straining charcoal limbs. Burnt hair, charred teeth, missing tongue... Sonny Harrison. Sonny and his house; the incinerated remains of an atrocious man.

Twin polished steel points in the dark beyond burning life and inanimate object. Go to bed. I’ll take care of everything.

My head reeled, my fingers trying to hold my skull still. My eyes crossed and ached and I gritted my teeth. Hangover, I thought and reached blindly for the Excedrin on the lower ledge of my computer desk that snugly fit next to the head of my bed. I dry swallowed three sugar-coated pills and looked at the clock again. The numbers hurt my head. I had to look away.

I stood slowly, steadying myself with one hand against the particle board shelves against the other wall. Again, my head pounded and swam with the ache of an angry surf. I reached for the door and winced. My stomach rolled. I tripped over myself to the kitchen sink and vomited as quietly as I could. I didn’t want to wake Grandma. Or Mom, if she was home yet.

Sonny’s eyes blazed against my eyelids as I forced the three Excedrin along with the remains of diner from the night before. As I watched the bile clear with the water down the drain, each time I blinked, I saw them. White burning rocks leering at me, screaming. I began to fear shutting my eyes any longer than a few moments.

My throat burning, my face damp, I stumbled back into my room and slouched onto my bed. My mind whispered beneath the throbbing. Words. Words jumbled incomplete and complete. Subtle like easy waves on the shore of the beach fifty miles west of my home. I became focused on them, finding a soothing quality in them, hearing a definitive voice there. A shimmering fuzzy image of someone not so much as coming into focus as beckoning me toward it. Closer. Close enough to see the face. To see it was Damian.

Twenty minutes passed with the susurrous voice background to the mental moving image of Damian, before the hangover symptoms subsided enough for me to think clearly and move again. The missing was begging me to go. A pull, in a way, to what I could only describe as towards school.

I understood. Somewhere, deep inside my mind, I understood.

Before Grandma awoke, before mom got home from work, even before the cats mewled for breakfast, I changed my clothes, ate three more Excedrin with a pot of coffee and quickly skulked out of the house.

Standing at the foot of the driveway, eyes widely surveying my locality, coastal fog shrouded the early morning neighborhood in thick lightening grey now, obliterating the remnants of Harrison’s miserable place from my sight thankfully. A curiosity nudged me to see what evil lurked in the ashes of that den of debasement, but the pull of my missing was greater and I turned away, heading to the Washington bus stop.

The bus had been near empty at 5:30, leaving me in the nuclear roar of the diesel bus engine to wonder. To wonder if what I’d dreamed and heard and what I’d seen the night before had been real and connected to one another. The stale scent of waterlogged burnt debris stayed with me. As did Sonny’s eyes. And the voice and Damian’s face.

Watching my fingers dance sluggishly on the little tadpole swooshes on the floor in building A1-AL, the missing was curiously diminishing. The events of the night before weighed heavy on me however and I began to imagine Damian held the key to putting me at ease about my considerable lack of sanity over it.

The time there, at school, on the floor beside the offices, had become slow and tedious. Numbly I felt the minutes tick by, anticipation wrecking my nerves.

And with a sudden footstep as quiet as a gentle cat claw on the floor, that missing was overwhelmed and stayed. Replaced by a powerful comportment at once deluging and embracing.

My eyes had slipped shut only momentarily and when they opened, they opened on impeccable black snake skin boots, the toes pointed at me. My sinuses filled with the subtle cologne that sent endorphin rushing riot through my skin. In a kind of awe that wasn’t unlike a more adulatory emotion on the faces of my neighbors the night before, I slowly lifted my weary eyes and head.

Long-legged black jeans, silver belt buckle, leather-gloved hands, black cotton shirt and a black trench coat. Damian’s long thin neck bent down, his long face turned down slightly to me. His being solid, yet ethereal somehow, he was overwhelming. His piercing grey eyes scrutinizing me down the length of his hawkish nose and his thin, thin mouth turned down as well.

My mouth fell open and my heart throbbed in my throat and I literally forgot everything I had been thinking or feeling before he’d arrived. I just finally felt a great relief and stillness, though his stern expression frightened me.

Then the edge of his mouth tweaked up a little and his eyes blinked languidly at me. “Jess, what brings you here so early?” Smooth and calm.

Hearing his voice solidified the belief I’d been hearing him whispering in the back of my head all morning. It jolted me slightly but visibly. His brow twitched in response. I couldn’t speak to answer, staring up at him. He smiled more, knowingly maybe,  and offered me one of his black-gloved hands.

My hand took his and I stood up, without much thought or maybe even free-will involved. Then, we stood intimately close to each other in the cold corridor. I felt so small in comparison to his tall, lean stature.

Time could’ve hiccupped and imploded; I wouldn’t have noticed.

Damian clasped my shoulder in one hand and took the handle to the door with their other, an inviting smile gracing his face. “Step into my office a moment, Jess. I have something to show you.”

I nodded and followed. Damian flicked on the buzzy neon lights and lead me by my shoulders to his desk. I felt like a Thorazine zombie in his palms. He sat me gently into his winged chair and bent over to me.

“Shut your eyes a minute.” The ends of his mouth pulled up cutely. “I want this to be a surprise.”

I obeyed and closed my burning lids to see the white hot coals of Sonny’s eyes dancing there in the dark. I jumped, gasped and opened my eyes again.

“Damian!” I yelped quietly, absently grabbing at him. “Harrison’s place burned down last night! Right down to the ground! Someone ignited him like a bonfire!”

Damian was turned away from me, holding whatever his surprise was to his chest and looking back over his shoulder at me. “Oh?” He looked contemplative a moment. “And Sonny himself?” Steel eyes back on me, sparking oddly.

My mouth hung mutely open, unknown fear washing my face. My silence beckoned him. His prize deftly swung to his back as he turned to face me. He bent at the waist, coming nose to nose with me, eyes wide and holding mine like delicate crystal in their gaze.

“Jess. He got what he had coming to him.” He stated soberly and nodded slow. My head followed in time. “Now close them.” He straightened.

I closed my eyes tightly, making explosions happen against my lids so I couldn’t see the burning orbs.

“Good girl.” The sound of rustling paper being folded, refolded and spread out on the desk seemed deafening. Then I felt the chair swivel to face it, Damian’s arm resting itself carefully across my shoulders and his face again close to mine. “Good. Now, open and see.”

See what I’ve done...

The first thing I saw was Caleb’s Varsity Team school photo taking up a quarter of the front page of the Daily Pacific Star newspaper. Disturbingly, when he smiled for these shots, he always looked like a drunken back woods redneck, the kind from “Deliverance.” I blinked a few times at the photo before being drawn to the bold capital typeface above his picture; the main headline.

STAR TACKLE ARRESTED FOR STEROID-INDUCED RAGE AGAINST PARENTS; COACH

My brow furrowed and my hands took up the paper.

‘Caleb Fellows, star tackle for Pacific High’s Mighty Bulldogs, was arrested Tuesday evening after attacking his father, Jeremiah Fellows, and the Bulldogs’ Coach, Carl Simmons, after a practice game earlier in... A search of his and other teammates lockers incidentally found several varieties of black market steroids... Caleb was charged with assault and battery... conspiracy... psychologist referred to as ‘‘roid-induced psychosis’... currently in a court ordered rehab in-patient program at...’

“Jesus Christ!” I said beneath my breath and slowly turned my head to look at Damian with shock.

Damian was grinning like a skull, his eyes hungrily devouring the front page story again. “Fantastic, isn’t it?”  His eyes tripped back to my horrified expression and his joy fell stagnant.

He sighed studying my features and expression closely, his arm slipping from my shoulders to bring his fingers to my jaw line and chin soothingly. His lips pursed a little with thought.

“You think this is all a bit... forward, maybe?” The leather tip of his thumb brushed lightly against my bottom lip and he grinned in amusement of it’s subtle pliability. “Your enemies dropping like so many swatted flies off a horses ass?” He sounded amused.

“But they weren’t–” I began innocently and he cut me off quickly, eyes flashing and head jerking at me.

“Yes, they are!” He hissed like a serpent and I winced away. He softened quickly though and sighed, gently caressing my jaw. “They are your enemy. Set out to subtly destroy you, piece by fragile little piece. See? That’s why I’m here. I’m your secret weapon, Jess.” He said in a hush and grinned all teeth.

“I don’t understand.” My brows pulled down in spite of myself.

Damian blinked at me, his fingertips pausing on my clavicle. He then bit the tip of the glove finger with his straight long white front teeth and pulled it off, tossing it onto Caleb’s goofy likeness. Returning his warm fingers and pointed nose to me, he looked kind and frank. “Listen to me,” he said gently. “I know what you’ve been through. You grew up a lonely kid. No friends, no siblings–despite an older brother. Broken homes create deep rifts in social contact sometimes. It’s hard to make friends, associate with your own age group, even speak to people. You became somewhat introverted but made your own path, created yourself from television and music. Becoming outlandishly wondrous in your own right, no one could understand you. You’ve never had anyone to stick up for you. Other kids thought you were weird and belittled you, often beat you up. Your family was off elsewhere, right? Leaving little Jessica all by her lonesome to fend for herself in a big, ugly, unfair world. The dogs could smell you a mile away, couldn’t they. Picked up the scent of supple young terrified innocence and set out to ravish it.

“But you put up a good fight. You really did. For many years, you fought them off well. But I can tell now, you’re weary. Your defenses are growing brittle and shaky. It’s only a matter of time before the fight turns into resigned defeat before it even begins. And you’ll throw yourself to those dogs, willingly. That would be tragic. A waste of a perfect, beautiful and brutal soul.

“Now, wouldn’t it be nice to have someone to fight for you? To take up all that lengthening slack? Sic on the dogs themselves and command their obedience? Obliterate the fight? Always win?

“This is where I come in. I can do that for you, Jess. I can make all the world go your way. You could get everything and anything you have ever wanted. And you wouldn’t have to do a single thing.”

“Why? Why would you do that for me?” I asked and then added, “And besides, I know nothing is ever free, Damian.”

He smiled appreciatively, his bare thumb now sweeping softly across the valley just beneath my lower lip. He chuckled in amusement. “That’s true, my dear. Nothing is free.”

His implication sparkled darkly in his grey eyes and the grin on his lips was enough to unsettle even the cruelest biker in a back alley brawl. My skin shivered. I dug my heels into the floor and pushed away from him, wide-eyed and beyond nervous. Even if this were a real thing, this had trouble written all over it, and my fear was shoving me away from him. In a way, I could see Damian’s deflation in his eyes as I thought all of this, as if he actually knew what was going on inside my head.

“I should go.” I murmured and stood up, heading towards the door.

Within a moment, again Damian was standing before me, blocking my exit, and I jumped a mile, staring wildly up at his thirsty face.

“Wait, wait.” His voice was calm and coaxing, his hands on my shoulders. “Think about what I’m saying, what I want to give you.” Insistent handsome bastard.

I was too wary of this and I backed away from him until I bumped the wall heater and flinched violently, grabbing the cold painted iron tightly with both hands. Damian was right there, before me, hands holding my shoulder steady. He sighed softly and brought his bare hand to my face again. It felt like the hand of god.

“A fair shake. A strike back. A win. I offer you the world and all of it’s profits, Jess.” He said adamantly. “And all I ask from you is a tiny shred of you. A piece of you for me to keep, cherish, hold safely away from the tyranny of life and death. It’s hardly anything. It’s precious to me. You, Jess, are precious to me.”

My entire body shook like I was naked in the middle of the arctic tundra as I stared into his scheming grey eyes. I couldn’t raise my voice or any reason to say no, to my complete surprise. And Damian, he was comforting and so god damned attractive. I hiccupped involuntarily and swallowed hard. He blinked and touched the point of his hawkish nose to mine.

“Trust me. I will protect you. I will take very good care of you.” He whispered, both hands gently holding my face, his eyes wandering over my fearful expressions with wonder. “Are you frightened?”

I nodded with a jerked motion. “Yes,” a meager squeak through my throat.

“Then just trust me. Let me stave off your fears and torments.” He smiled an unsavory grin. “Say yes,… and give me your soul.” The words purred like boiling honey in his throat.

He couldn’t have said it and he couldn’t have meant it if he had. It was ludicrous to think, to even consider. “I don’t believe you!”

He stopped, stared at me in a vague disdain, “everything that I’ve done has been for you. You don’t see that?” He looked hurt by my disbelief.

“Could be just coincidences, strange happenstances. You couldn’t have done those things.” My voice shook so much my words ran together. I felt sharp, scared, my mind concentrating on the places of my body where his skin was touching mine with a mad pleasure.

Damian sighed, steel eyes cold but admirable, and moved slowly. His right arm slid up and cradled my head in it’s crook, his left hand on my neck. “I’ll prove myself again for you if you like.”

Damian then bent his neck and pressed his lips hard to mine, kissing me like they did in the old black and white films. His right hand tangled into my hair and he breathed slow and deep, his eyes closed, his mouth warm and soft. His lips moved against mine, the tip of his tongue probing only a little.

And for the life of me, I melted there beneath his kiss, held tightly in his arms. My eyes rolled up and back into my skull in a pure ecstasy I had only dreamed of ever. The terror within me shrank into a tiny spark of nothingness and I felt helpless as a kitten. My hands gripped the heavy coat of his arms and clutched.

When he slowly pulled away, moistening his lips with his pink tongue, he looked down on me, limp and pliable in his arms, and frowned slightly. I looked up small and impotent. He righted me and stepped away, severing physical contact. I stared, speechless and stricken.

“Do you understand now?” He asked softly.

I nodded, I did. He smiled at me.

I’d follow him through Hell like a stupid dog.

The edges of his mouth tweaked up a bit. “I’m your little secret?”

I smiled drunkly and nodded.

“Good girl,“ he cupped my cheek and said. “Now, go along to class. Everything will be perfectly fine. I’ll see to it.“

I nodded and took up my pack onto my shoulder. I felt dread as I began to leave his office. The idea of being away from him bothered me unbearably

“Jess?“ Damian was behind me, mouth to my ear.

“Yes, Damian?“ I replied near silent.

“I always keep my promises, Jess.” I felt his lips smile against my ear and felt the tingle of danger.