I remember the way he looked at me. Only it's not the same anymore in my memory. While it was happening, it was endearing. Now... All I can think about was how strange it was. Like- I don't think I really have the words. What I do have is blood on my hands, hands that don't work anymore not like they should.
The pile before me that used to be a human being was a good human being. For the most part. I'm not entirely sure what I feel about these people anymore. I'm aware of two things. This is Ted Schmidt. Ted Schmidt is not Brian Kinney. Brian Kinney is who I need to see. Micheal Novotny will die by these hands and Brian will see me.
This all started a week ago. My motor functions had yet, and have yet, to improve. Honestly they've gotten worse. I was sitting in the diner, talking to miss Novotny about the shut down. Babylon is gone. At least that's what they say. I had other thoughts. I had convinced my friend Dapne to go check it out with me that night because I was convinced that someone would be there still living it up.
Of course. I wasn't wrong.
Only one person was in the building. It wasn't the maintenance guy. It was Brian Kinney.
He sat alone at the bar in silence. Hand wrapped around the neck of the bottle of tequila he'd been nursing.
When Daphne and I approached he turned to me with the nastiest of sneers, "What are you doing?"
I did what I always do and let the light fall on my face as I looked into his eyes to say something casual but draw it out like I'm being sexual, "Getting into trouble."
He stands up and gruffs at me, "You should leave."
I cock my neck to the side furrow a brow and say, "I don't want too."
"Yeah. He doesn't have to do anything he doesn't want to." Cries Daphne.
Brian just looks at her like she's a yipping poodle. Then grabs his jacket off the chair and stalks out saying, "I'm calling the cops if you don't leave."
"They'll just know you were here too." I told him. But he didn't care.
I stood there for a while. Reliving yet another moment where Brian Kinney made me feel unsure. Unsure of who I was. What I was. And What life meant for me. I'll never be able to pull the image from the page again. I can't hate Brian Kinney but I can hate the person who was supposed to love him.
Strangely enough, I could picture this worthless man. Only in reality he isn't worthless. Here in my fantasy, walking the dust that swirls in sunlight peeking through the ceiling I see a man less than. I can envision myself pushing the limits. I took out the pocket knife my father had gotten me and see myself in the blades reflection. I seem deranged.
Daphne's speaking to me but I can't hear her. What I hear instead is Micheal. He's pleading for his life. He knows I'm here to kill him. Then it was only a fantasy. Now, I'm stalking through the same building with some minor adjustments. And one by one I will test the lives of the people who took my life away to see if they really deserve it before I become the reason Micheal Novotny takes his last breath.
Wiping Ted Schmidts blood off on my green and black robes I push open the door and step out into what was formerly known as the blue room. One down. Eight to go.