"You lost a fight?"
"Yeah", they whispered, face down slightly.
"How does-", I hesitated for a moment. "I mean, that seems extreme?"
"They were trying to kill me."
"Fuck."
"Hurt."
"I bet." I pulled the wet cloth away from their head for a moment to take another look. "How big was it?"
"Uhhh". They gestured vaguely with their hands, possibly in an attempt to demonstrate the size of the knife. They didn't quite move right. It was like watching 3 squids pressed into human shape struggling to simulate a working body. A complete lack of awareness of human form.
"Mmm", I sighed. It was on days like this I was glad my roommate knew not to ask too many questions. I guess running at the edge of society for a few months taught her a few lessons about that. She stopped asking questions the first time she walked into my room and saw the faceless drawings pasted onto my walls. Oh god, the faceless drawings pasted onto my walls. I had to get them all down before my guest could even see the inside of my room.
The wound wasn't as bad as it should've been, I think. I'm not a doctor, but I feel like a knife sunk up to the handle in someone's head should've been lethal. Or at the very least, cause permanent brain damage. And while they were definitely different from the last time we'd met, weaker and less present, they were doing perfectly fine. There was a hole in their head and it seemed to leak darkness instead of blood. There was no swelling, no redness. Maybe a little pain, but less than you'd expect. The wet cloth wasn't doing much at all. It was all I had, really.
"Here, put pressure on that", I said. They moved their hand up to it, brushing against mine for just a moment. It tingled.
"Thank you", they whispered.
"Mm", I said, rising.
I passed through to the kitchen and poured a glass of water for myself. I stared at my reflection in it, and then poured a second for my guest. The smell of the soup on the stove was overpowering, building the sense of hunger in me. I hadn't eaten properly today. I could feel my stomach rousing, declaring victory.
The glasses settled onto the coffee table with a clunk. "Would you like some soup?"
"I don't eat."
"You don't?"
"Not food."
I considered this in context of what I'd seen on the subway that night. "Okay". I paused. "Would you like some soup anyway?"
They didn't respond. I got them some soup.
My roommate Maggie had retreated to her room with the soup. I know not what for. But it left the two of us alone, curled up on the couch, slurping at our bowls. At least, I slurped at mine. They watched the steam curl upwards, trailing infinite patters in the air. I studied the way their eyes reflected it, pupils swimming to match.
"Do you have a name?", I asked.
"I don't think so."
"You don't know?"
"No. I don't know a lot. Too small right now."
"Okay then. Well, I'm Violet. Pleasure to meet you."
"Violet", they said, rolling it over their sharp tongue.
"Sometimes people call me "Vi" for short", I added, helpfully.
"Vi", they tried.
"Yeah."
"It's pretty."
"You really think so?"
"Yeah."
"Thank you."
"Who named you?"
"Uh, my parents, I guess."
"I see."
I hesitated. "Is there something I can call you?"
"I don't know."
"Well, what do other people call you?"
Instead of responding, they inserted an experimental finger directly into the steaming bowl of soup. I jumped a little, to go get ice. They didn't even flinch against the heat, stirring it around a little. As I watched, they pulled their hand back to their tight lips and licked it cautiously.
"You okay?"
"Tastes strange." They frowned. "What is it?"
"Uhh, red pepper and barley, I think?"
"I see."
I studied them. Narrow, small. They gave the impression of a rat in a trap, of a soaked kitten on a doorstep. They were wearing my sweater and wrapped in blankets and still shivering.
"Other people call me a monster", they said softly.
"Oh", I said.
"I am a monster, I think."
"Yeah? How do you know?"
"I eat people."
"Ah."
"Aren't you scared I'll eat you?"
"Will you?"
They shrugged.
"That's not-", and then I stopped to laugh. "That's not very reassuring!"
"I'm not very reassuring."
"Sure you're not."
"I'm not!"
"Uh huh, yeah?"
"Yes."
"Then what do you call spending the night with me?"
"Did I..."
"You don't remember?"
"I don't..." Their face creased up, concerned.
"Hey, hey." I leaned a little closer and rested a hand on their shoulder. They flinched slightly and then settled into it. "What happened to you? Are you okay?"
They turned to face me, the dark pits where their eyes should be bearing into mine. "It's like there's a hole in my head and I'm leaking out of it. No, that's not quite right." They paused to think. "It's like there was a hole in my head and I did leak out of it and now I'm the residue on the bottom of the barrel."
"Huh", I said. "Sounds unpleasant."
"Mm", they sighed.
"I don't... I don't know how to help."
Their voice suddenly deepened and the world faded into black and white, as though they were the only real thing in existence. "I'm not human, you know." For a second we drifted through the cosmos, watching civilizations decaying and stars withering.
"What?"
Reality snapped back. "It's okay. I'm okay. Nothing is wrong. I'm sorry. You don't have to help. I'm sorry. I can leave." They arose onto shaking legs.
"No, no! It's okay. You don't have to go."
"Are you sure?"
I laid a hand on their arm. "Yeah. Please. Stay."
They hesitated for a long while. "Okay."
God, there were more of these than I thought. Why had I drawn so many? Each picture came down from the walls, a few of them tearing in the corners thanks to my haste. It's not like it mattered. I had sketchbooks of obsession, monuments to my devotion. All failing to capture the face I couldn't get out of my head, couldn't get out of my soul. They were sitting in the other room and I was in here on flimsy excuses making my room presentable.
My room, "presentable". I aught to laugh. Sticky tack dotted the walls, scraps of paper marking the failure to actually hide anything. Even ignoring that flaw, it wasn't exactly the most presentable of places. I'd mostly been treating it as a fort lately, a place to retreat to when I was catching too little sleep between hunting for the edges of the world. The bed was tangled, the sheets needing a change. The laundry basket was overflowing, extra underwear and shirts scattered over the floor like some kind of boobytrap system. Surprise! You're standing on my bra. The walls, that dull unimaginative landlord off-white, had the ramblings of a madwoman without enough money. Posters for a couple bands surrounded the centrepiece of my chaos, a bonafide conspiracy board. Maps of the city dotted with labels and markers and string, newspaper clippings, printouts of relevant documents, all dotted through with memorabilia from me and Mallow's adventures. My desk was piled high with papers and textbooks and a few toys and some sticks and leaves and really not enough space to actually work. That was fine. These days I did my research on the fly, in cafes, in trains, curled into the bed and ruining my back. The whole thing needed a dust and a vacuum and maybe a fire.
And I could do fuck all about it.
Maybe I was getting ahead of myself. It's not like they would want to see it, right? They were here for help. It would be downright rude to offer anything more, to even try, right? I was assuming and moving too far, too fast again. I was in over my head. But I'd been fantasizing about nothing but this for months and oh, god did I want it. Did I want their arms around me and their lips on mine and they hands pulling my back and I could just lose myself to it. They felt so safe, you know? I never felt better than when I woke up in their arms, and oh god, did I want it again. I felt the perfection of their form in my shaking hands, as the pencil traced a face that stubbornly edited itself to resist capture.
But they wouldn't want it too. Of course not. I'm just the mortal. The boring old human who touches something beyond herself. I could almost see it, the pattern. They just needed a night. To put themself back together. And then they'd go back, presumably to their more exciting life. I'd been looking for magic and I'd finally found it. I studied myself in the mirror hung on the back of my door. I was plain. Boring. Average height, average face. My hair really needed buzzing again. It was messily long, coming down just past my ears. I wasn't perfection. I wasn't worth anything.
I found the spare blankets in bottom of my closet. I stole the least gross pillow off my bed and piled the whole thing together in a vain attempt to make it seem presentable. It didn't, continuing to look like a mess of things thrown together in a vague approximation of hospitality. Ah, god. I restacked it, no better.
And my heart melted as I returned to our living room, witnessing how they curled into the corner of the couch, almost hiding. The lights had been dimmed. They weren't even looking. What was I doing? Obsessing over all the wrong things, surely.
"Hey", I whispered. "Brought you some blankets. Think you'll be okay, out here?"
They glanced up at me, empty holes in the shadows where eyes should be. I almost caught an impression of sharpened teeth grinding against each other, carved into a wicked smile. "Yeah."
"Can I get you anything?"
"Um." They said it softly, so delicately. It hovered in the air like a bird, like a butterfly. I cradled the sound of their voice gently, music in my ears. "I don't think so?"
"Okay", I said, and turned to leave.
"Wait?", they asked.
I turned for a moment, silhouetted by the lights from the hall.
"I don't want to be alone."
"Okay", I said.
Their body was soft and gentle. It moved at my touch almost, like stirring water. I maneuvered myself around them, each and every contact moment setting my nerves on fire. They screamed that this was right. And it was. I wrapped around them on the couch, and the blanket went overtop and we found ourselves lying down together. My face at the back of their neck, their hair cascading around us. They smelled like a thunderstorm. I smiled. It was just as good as I always thought it really would be, I thought, selfishly.
I don't know exactly when sleep took me but I think it must've, because I found myself standing atop a sinking ship. The engines roared to life, spitting fire into the night, a glowing column to repel the things of the deep. And oh, how the things of the deep stirred. They dug through water as though it was soil, carving great open passages rimmed by salt and blood. Their teeth burst through the skies and they trailed a mess, sticky masses discharged and dripping, splattering the recoiling deck. Like acid, it melted through the wood and I stumbled backwards losing my footing until I was pressed up against them.
And they were the only thing that was real and they were 3 meters tall and covered in gaping mouths that nipped my skin. And the stars were eyes and they were looking at me and asking what I was and why I was here.
"Violet", stated the voice of the sun.
I tried to speak, but I had no mouth. I tried to walk, but I had no legs. I tried to think, but I had no me.
"Violet, why do you come?", stated the sun again.
And then the monster, who was holding me tightly, grabbed the sun in all 3 hands and cracked it in two, pouring the world out of it.
We stirred the eggs together, scrambling them in a little jug. The onions and mushrooms and meat and teeth were in the pan already cooked to perfection. The spirits outside were howling for their share. We were laughing as we kissed. We were laughing as the building cracked open and poured us out, as we fell for thousands of kilometres, as we exploded against the ground, painting the concrete with our blood and guts.
"Violet, do you not know what will happen?", stated the moon.
I pointed upwards at it and laughed, the soft grass against my back tickling my lungs and heart. "No! What?"
The monster stood over me. There were thousands of it and they flew through the sky on wings of bone and glass. But this one was mine and it was holding my hand and speaking in words older than conceptualization.
But the paintings on the caves danced in the fires, animation bringing them to life. They swam through the walls and then off them, clawing their ways towards my eyes, clawing their ways into my eyes. Light was imagery and imagery was a hack on the brain and they showed me the way to see, the way to think.
Because there was a book and in the book was a picture and the picture was of me.
I drew the picture.
But try as hard as I could, I could never quite get the face right. No mirrors in my mind.
What did my face look like?
Trace a hand down it, trace down the jawline where there should maybe be stubble. Should there be stubble? Watch as it flows out to match the expectation, as you draw it on in pencil, as your frantic motions carve deeper indentations into the page. Let's start again, let's crumple ourselves up and throw ourselves out, wastepaper basket by the door. And she's holding my hand and I am her and she's carving my face but that's okay because I'm carved her up.
I'm carving her up with the knife sharp, elbows deep in her guts and she's just laughing again. She has her arms around me and I'm stabbing her more and more forcefully and it hurts so bad. It hurts so bad.
But there's a swarm outside the building, under the greying sun, under the decaying sky. They buzz and swoop and fly and howl chilling cries. They're howling because they want me to join them. They want me to go home. They miss me.
They hate me.
The knife sinks into the sides of my head and the woman is watching and screaming and the cabal is laughing because they figured it out. The circle is large and full of faces, all blurred out of my sight. Humans always fade away like that. I'm losing my sense of self again. Holding on too tightly, clutching at the handle with both hands. Each snowflake hits my back with the force of a shotgun blast.
And her face is in my mind and so is the taste of the wizard. How his bones crunched, tasty and delicious, blood dripping down my flesh.
"What are you looking at?", she snarled.
"Nothing!", I protested feebly.
And it hurt so bad. But I was in her arms and that meant I was safe. And my hands found the knife again and her heart was so obvious, so weak.
I had to go home.
I couldn't hold on. I was standing in an alley and it was too much effort. It was too much. There was too much of me. And so we let go.
I had to find the self again.
And my name was...
And my name was...
I had a name, I was sure of it.
I studied myself in the mirror, the subtle naked curves of my flesh. The sharp slip of my jutting limbs, blaring out from a corpse wrapped in spiderwebs. I adorned a smile I couldn't see past the filtering of my empty eyes.
Oh yeah. I remembered now.
My name was Violet.
The sun creaked it's way past the curtains, bringing the room back to life. We were tangled together, the blanket threaded through us as thought it could hold us together. It hurt. Everything hurt. I didn't feel real. I swam between both bodies, confused, trying to understand. I could see the way the shadows danced on the wall. I loved the shadows. I was a thing of the shadows. No, that wasn't quite right.
Their eyes were wide open and watching me, our faces almost touching. So there was a me. The images blew out of my brain slowly, cobwebs recoiling from the fire of intelligence. I focused on sensation, letting it bring me back to reality. There was heat. There was the fire of where my skin kissed theirs. I was wearing the same clothes as the day before and the one before that, tank top stained with sweat and my jeans leaving permanent indentations on my hips. The sharp scent of sweat permeated the air. The couch wasn't quite big enough. They must've been almost falling off all night.
But I was me again, I think. The imagery was already fading from my mind, conclusions already drifting away from me.
"Good morning", I whispered, the words slipping roughly out of a dry mouth. Shit. I swallowed and tried again. "Did you sleep well?"
"I don't sleep", they whispered back.
"Oh", I said.
"Did you sleep well?"
"I dunno. Strange dreams. Slept funny, I think. Back hurts. Mmmf", I stretched, moaning at the sensation of sore muscles burning. Their hand, shifted and I was wrapped in their arms, fingers pressing into the places that hurt.
I sighed and nestled closer, letting their body take me. They began to massage slowly, letting the tension out.
"That's nice."
"Ram", they said.
"Ram?"
"You asked what to call me. Ram."
"Ram", I tried experimentally. "Ram. Ram, Ram, Ram. I like it! How'd you pick it?"
"I knew a Ram once."
"Like the animal?"
"No."
"Yeah?."
"Sometimes... Sometimes I still hear his voice."
"Yeah?"
"I miss him."
"I'm sorry", I whispered.
"It's okay. It was a while ago."
"Okay then, Ram. I like it. Ram."
They laughed once and then flinched, surprised. "What was that?"
"What, the laugh?"
"Yeah."
"It was cute", I said without hesitation, and then I laughed too. "God, sorry."
"It's fine."
I was considering the merits of kissing them when a sharp knock at the door interrupted. I left Ram on the couch and went to check it.
"Hey", I said swinging the door open. And then I stopped. Staring back at me was pretty clearly Ram. I glanced back. Still on the couch, peering at us anxiously, small and pale. I glanced forwards again. There they were, tall and powerful, exuding confidence and danger.
"Come on", said the one from outside. "Time to go."
"Huh?", I said.
"Not you", they responded.
"Don't want to", came the tiny voice from somewhere behind me.
"Do you think you have a choice?"
"Okay", I said, "Let's just take a step back and talk about-"
And then the outsider shoved me to the wall and was in the apartment, flesh rippling as it broke open. The walls closed up, drywall swelling to obscure the doorways. It was just us standing in the living room, no way to exit, light streaming in from the window.
Outside-Ram gestured at me. "Who is this?"
"Violet", said my Ram. "We met them on the subway and-"
"Irrelevant. We're fixing ourself. Time to go."
"I don't want to."
"Why not?"
I pressed my back against the wall, watching as the shadows lengthened. The sun was fading. I could feel the universe growing hungrier.
My Ram blinked and stood up. "Made a friend. Don't wanna go back."
"We don't need friends. We have us."
My Ram twisted and shook for a moment, their head convulsing. And then they straightened. "No, we don't."
The outsider's face split open, skin peeling away to reveal teeth dripping blood. I rubbed my arms, the flesh flaking off.
Together, the two Rams turned to me and spoke in echoing unison. "We cannot be with you. We would destroy you."
"We don't know that", said one of them. I couldn't tell which, they were blurring together.
"Yes we do."
"See?"
"It's already happening."
"No, I don't think so."
"WATCH!"
I stumbled, legs unable to hold my weight. My arm sank through the wall, the drywall sucking me in.
I stared back at the two faces, at the two bodies, at the two figures. One of them was expanding, growing, wrapping around the other. This was it. Two became one and the cycle would be closed. The snake devours its tail. Vulnerability becomes weakness becomes flesh.
There was a shattering noise and one of the Rams went out the window. Light streamed in and I found my footing again, stable and steady. The devouring predator, the outsider stared open mouthed, human flesh reformed. And then they screamed with rage.
I took the stairs three at a time, throwing my body down as quickly as possible. Down two flights to the ground floor, through the door, then the apartment entrance, throwing my body against the heavy door. It shifted slowly, too slowly, and then I was in the street, the cold hitting my like a blow to the chest. The street was strangely empty. Almost spookily so. I glanced around, taking it in. Not one other person was visible. Well, it was a cold and miserable day.
Ram was limping across the street. Adrenaline powering my every footstep, I sprinted towards them. The rain danced across the pavement. My arm found their shoulders and we limped together, stumbling against wet concrete. We didn't speak. We didn't need to. In that moment, I understood only one thing which was exactly how much Ram didn't want to go back. Go back where? Questions to be answered later.
We stumbled our way down the road until we hit the main street. I was hoping there would be people there, maybe we'd be safer in a crowd. No such luck. There was no one. The grocery store, the drug store, that old church. I considered the subway, considered what Mallow had said. But Ram wasn't a wizard, didn't follow the rules.
The other Ram crawled down the street towards us. My Ram clung tightly to me. I felt the chill of the air deep in my bones. Couldn't move. Could barely think. And it stood there, proudly, in the middle of the street, silently. The finest monster there ever was. It reached out one massive hand to grab us, to devour us.
"Please", I said. "I missed you so much."
And then a car smashed right into them.
It must've been going fast, easily over 100 kilometres per hour. It hit Ram, now a human, with a sickening crunch, and their body flew through the air as the car skidded to a stop and the spell was broken and the street was full of people gawking. The car screeched and stopped and a laughing woman emerged, cackling with glee, gun out, firing at the limp form as the other cars also slammed to a stop, traffic piling up, honking horns adding to the cacophony of the accident.
"Ram?", I asked, but my Ram was gone. Gone where? I spun, looking for them in the crowd, ready for us to slip away. "Ram? Ram?" I twirled, studying the faces in the crowd, seeing the panic and fear. "Where'd you go?" I couldn't see them. All I could see was the other one, now rising, now screaming. It lunged for the woman, who danced backwards, her pistol clacking with each shot, each bullet that pierced through and rippled through their form.
And across the street, across the action, on the other sidewalk, I caught a glimpse of someone. I met their eyes, their angry eyes, and they grinned with fangs needle sharp and tongues long and bloody. They winked at me and then they were gone. I spun, frantic. Where'd they go? What was happening? The drug store glass shone back at me, the reflections of the crowd all turning towards me. Their mouths hung open, needle teeth bared. Fangs out. I watched in the flashes of glass, shattering glass, falling shards, each an essence of a soul. The car exploded, raining fanged metal all over the street and their hand was on my shoulder pulling.
"Come on, hun. Time to get yours.", hissed the voice in my ear.
"No!", I screamed.
The voice wrestled out from my lungs as did the impact, their face against my first. Moments shattered like time. I saw the world as a series of still images. Them hitting the cement, the ground itself cracking with the impact. My foot on their chest, stomping. The splinter of lungs, of bones. The impact against my side, bullets going through me as I turned and saw the other laughing, cackling, howling. Ram collapsed, a heap, useless, knife plunged into their chest, hand gripping it feebly.
I glanced down. Blood blossomed from my body, dripping into the concrete.
"Shit", I said.
The blood misted into the air, dancing on the winds, trailing strands from my body. We watched it together. In the distance, someone was screaming. I saw the pain crawling up my body, a parasite on the nerves working its way through the canals of flesh.
Without another word, I turned and fled. I hit the crowd at a run, shoving people out of the way, dodging between the spaces. I left bloody handprints on coats and scars on minds as they flinched away from me. I was a spectre now, survival my only instinct. I had no plan, no design. Only direction. No, that wasn't quite right. I was going for the subway. Getting underground. They couldn't hunt me underground. The entrance was only a block away, traffic roaring over the street in front of me. I didn't notice or care. The cars swerved and honked. I screamed and threw myself forwards, dashing with all the force my failing legs could muster.
The glass sliding door stood imperiously closed. For a moment, my reflection grinned back at me, dishevelled and bloodstained. Then her teeth lengthened until it wasn't me any more, but that strange creature. It reached outwards, pointed fingers peeling off the glass, claws outstretched and angry, the glass starting to crack. With a ding, the door slid open and the illusion was broken.
I sprinted forwards. Trembling fingers went for my wallet and found nothing. Instead, I vaulted over the turnstiles, to the shouts of the transit staff. No matter. They didn't follow me as I went around and then down the stairs, taking them 3 at a time, shoving a young man out of the way. East or west? I picked east, dropping down another level onto the platform. There was one there, ready for me, almost as though it had been waiting.
I didn't relax until the doors closed behind me.