Playing The Angel, part 3
Beauty is a curse on the world.
Kimber stood on the ledge outside her apartment, back glued to the window as she watched the city unfold beneath her feet. A warm breeze caressed her body like a lover's hand, mocking the chill that raced through her. Cold, it was always cold inside and the chill was killing her. Freezing everything she recognized, covering it in a frost that was unrecognizable. She dimly heard the phone shrilling inside; the click of the answering machine as it turned on, playing the voice she least wanted to hear.
"Kimber, are you there? It's me, Christian. I know you don't want to talk to me, but I just had to make sure you're okay. Kimber? Kimber! Please, pick up!" This was the fourth, perhaps the fifth time he'd called in the last few minutes, she wasn't sure how many times now but each message was the same. It was only his voice that changed with each call, getting more insistant, more worried. More frightened. That scared her too.
I didn't know Christian even knew what fear was. That's a higher emotion; he doesn't know about such things. Kimber sighed, then again, the warm breeze still playing with her white nighty, playing with her white, scarred skin. The sound of Christian's voice died away as another took its place. Low, crooning, giving her promises and assurances where there were none. She strove to listen.
I can set you free, my angel, the voice chanted inside her head, outside her head; all around her, it seemed. Christian screwed you up, yet again, returning to you the falsehoods I took from you. He lied to you, he lied. But I never did, did I? I set you free once, and I can do so again. Come to me, my angel, as I am your angel. Let me set you free from the restraints and constrictions society has placed on you, on us. I can set you free, I can set you free...
Kimber lifted her face to the moon, staring coldly down at her. She was tired of the pain, tired of the bullshit, the lies. The moon had nothing special to tell her, but he did. He always did. He told her that Christian had made of her an animal, perhaps he was right. She laughed at that thought, her, once a perfect 10, now reduced to nothing more than a grizly animal. That was how she felt. The thought for some reason appealed to her and she raised her face higher, letting out a blood-curdling howl. If animal she was, then perhaps she would act like one. She howled again, raising her hands to the night sky.
Lights clicked on in the windows surrounding her; a few shouts from other apartments, howling back for her to shut the fuck up, people had to work in the morning! She laughed then, a sound she'd not heard from herself in so long, it seemed. The laughter didn't sound much different from her howling, but she relished the sound anyway and lifted her voice higher in defiance of the voices snarling at her. Another window opened now--a face peered out, an angry face that turned to concern, then terror. A scream. Kimber screamed back, inviting the voice to lift and join with hers in shared release. Another yell--"She's gonna jump!"--panicked voices coming at her in a jumble. The exhultation she'd felt only moments ago faded as fury took its place. How dare they look at her like this, how dare they? Look at her like she was a monster, a circus freak up here for their amusement? She screamed again, a banshee's wail full of rage and grief for what had been done to her, what had been done to them all. All in the name of blind perfection.
Beauty is a curse on the world.