What is this? An update?! Oh, my. Could it have to do with... summer break? Why, yes, I think it could. Not much to brag about but, eh.
Read and review because you missed me.
Chapter Eight
An Ounce of Truth
The streets seemed endless. So endless and winding it was as if by looking at them you'd get lost. But I couldn't worry about that, I didn't have time to figure out where I was going or why. All I could focus on was the sheer panic beating behind my skull-bone. All I could sense was the sudden and unexplainable guilt that started to nest in my chest.
I had no idea what was really going on anymore. Or, maybe that's not entirely true. I did know I had been kidnapped by my former opponent and sort-of-enemy. I also knew that Garland had somehow gone stark raving mad and joined a gang. As if that wasn't bad enough, now he was after me and no matter where I went he'd find me. I was stuck in his trap and right that moment I was running from the only man who hadn't tried to kill me since this whole mess began.
So, I guess I did have some idea of what was going on, I just didn't have the faintest clue of what to do about it. And even though all of this was very crazy, it was reality, and as sad as it sounds there's only so long you can run from reality before it finds you. I couldn't ignore this, this was real. You spend your life thinking shit like this only happens in thrillers and action series on TV. You think that this is for the Tough Guy or the Sexy Girl to sort out. It's one of those things that can't happen to you.
This isn't normal for regular people. Sure, it could happen to some nobody on the news who was found dead after a gang war. Yeah, you could buy that. But this? This was insane. But the truth is, all you ever believed in? That's just bullshit. This can happen to you, this will happen to you if you don't watch out. It's not that impossible, really.
You just have to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Which, if you ask me, isn't all that hard.
And now when I'd turned into One-Of-Those-People I should've been able to figure something out. For crying out loud, I was a hero, I was famous. Some kids think I'm like superman. So what was my clever and thought-through decision? Well, as you've probably noticed by now, it was to run. So I ran like a horde of flesh-eating monsters were at my feet.
I could almost feel them nibbling at me, and with my pulse drowning all other noise as it beat in my ears, I ran even harder. Even if my muscles were cramping and I couldn't even breathe because my lungs just didn't keep up, even if my heart was beating so fast it'd show a straight line on a heart monitor, I didn't allow myself to stop.
I couldn't afford to stop. I didn't know where the hell I was or where on Earth I was going, I didn't know who was on my side and who was planning my brutal death. All I knew was that I had to get out of there before anyone noticed where I was. Silently, almost secretly, my mind whispered about a certain Russian. Wondering what was going to happen to him now, and if he'd be okay.
Eventually I was at a point where my brain sounded like my mother and I feared I was losing my mind. But I couldn't help but start second guessing myself, even if I swore not to do just that. But what if? What if Boris needed me? Yeah, I know, that's absurd. But everything else in my life seemed to be absurd so why not? What if I made a mistake by leaving him? And on another note; running away from the man – although insane – who saved me a billion times, could be considered not only rude, but also bitchy.
My ancestors must've been rolling in their graves. But on the other hand, if I didn't look out for myself and run I'd soon be rolling in mine.
Karma seemed to think that sounded like a pretty good idea, because suddenly I stopped right in my tracks. It's almost comical, and if I'd had just a tad worse balance I'd be flat on my face that moment. Panic awoke again to keep me company, my mind raging with the fervent thoughts and fears of my heart. In the middle of the street I was currently thinking to cross, silhouettes took form.
I could make out the shapes of five men, whom all of them looked very tall and very dangerous. I didn't know who they were but my survival instinct screamed at me to get the hell away from there. But just as in nightmares, my feet were glued to the asphalt and I just couldn't move. My whole body tensed up, and the only movement I'm left capable of is blinking.
Common sense tries to get a word in but finally the bellowing of my fear and adrenaline pumped blood gushing through my veins is enough to drown any other noise out. I couldn't hear or think a single thing. If this'd been a movie, this is where the fat guy in the couch pushes the pause button on me so he can go get a snack.
''Hey, guys'' one of them said, and immediately shattered my hopes of discovering a dormant invisibility-power. ''You lost, man?''
I couldn't force myself to answer them, even my tongue had gone on a strike. Sure, if life hated me, why shouldn't my body?
''Whassa' matta'?'' a really big guy drawled, looking me over with hard eyes. ''Cat got your tongue?''
''If you know just how many times I've heard that joke…''
It came so suddenly I didn't realize it was me who said it at first. The gang itself looked shocked as well, and a fear started churning coldly in my stomach. It felt a tad unlikely that they'd appreciated my tone.
''Don't be cocky, bitch!'' the biggest one growled like a rabid dog. ''Your momma let you out on these streets, huh?''
He pulled closer to my - for some reason still paralyzed - form, the smell of his putrid breath as strong as if he'd hit me. He let his eyes run over me with a scrutinizing, chilling glare that I could almost feel sweeping across my skin. And then, the bastard smiles. A really creepy smile that lets you know just how many teeth he's missing.
The pain of being slammed up a wall hit me, a feeling so familiar I wasn't even that surprised by it anymore. Still, it hurt badly from the sheer strength of him, and I couldn't help but wince as my eyes focused again. Five hungry wolves leering at me, I would have had a heart-attack if my heart hadn't jumped out of my throat.
''Get off me, you bastard!'' I snarled, which wasn't very smart since their glares only grew madder.
It seemed like just because my tongue started working again, my brain actively refused to.
But I kept staring defiantly at them, not wanting to show just how much pain was oozing into me that moment, hoping they couldn't smell my fear. But that mask was harder and harder to uphold as the one grabbing me leaned in to smell my hair. Calloused, dirty hands ran through some stray locks of my hair, which hadn't seen shampoo in days. I hadn't thought about it before, but now my mind started ticking like a bomb with the one question; were they Garland's men or just some delinquents out for a little twisted fun?
''Hey, pretty, you look a bit familiar, don't you?''
And as soon as I thought of the question I regretted it, not wanting to know the answer.
''Yeah'' one of them said ''He does look familiar. What's your name?''
This is the point where I should have kept my mouth shut. But the sick feeling welling up inside of me, knowing they weren't just looking at me in a way that made me feel naked, but also touching me, simply made the tiger inside of me go wild.
''Fuck you!'' I spat out, not only the words but also a nice gob from the back of my throat.
I watched in bewilderment at what I'd just done as the saliva slowly ran down the man's face, along his crooked nose and into the stubble on his chin. What sickened me even more than the pure, burning hatred in his livid eyes was when he reached out his tongue and licked some of it up. My face must have scrunched up violently, since the corner of his mouth suddenly curved upwards.
If there's one person you never want to see a smile on, it's someone pulling out a knife at you. The moment I saw the glimmer of the thin blade coming out of his jacket, I started thrashing like mad. I didn't care that my head was close to cracking with a headache. It didn't matter that my wounds weren't entirely healed or that I was exhausted. Clear, naked panic took it's hold on me and it refused to let go. Apparently, he didn't want to either as he reinforced his grip and slammed me even harder into the bricks.
''You stay still you piece of shit! Don't you think I recognize you? That Garland's looking for you, ain't he?''
''How much can we get for him, chief?'' one in the back snickered, eyeing me with a carnivore's hunger.
The man holding me put the blade close enough for my skin to shiver under the cold steel, but leaving barely enough space so it wouldn't touch me quite yet. Playing with me like some toy, his grin widened.
''I don't know, how much was it you were worth?''
I just glared at him, not wanting to talk to him anymore but instead trying to figure out an escape plan. But it seemed like no matter how hard I kicked him, he didn't feel a thing. Or perhaps he did, but just enjoyed it. All I learned was that the wilder I threw myself around, the tighter his grip around my throat got, and the more I tried to squirm, the closer I could feel the coldness of his knife.
''A lot alive, a damn lot alive actually'' he leaned in to sniff my hair again, but just before he was able to draw that damn breath, I headbutted him, feeling the crack of his nose through the impact.
Which was stupid, I admit that. But I'd come to a point that was way beyond stupid, and no common sense in the world could ever make a difference.
''You fucking son of a bitch!'' he hissed through the blood and the pain and the anger.
I felt myself sliding to the ground as he'd retracted his hand to shield the source of pain by reflex, swearing and cursing in a way that'd make every mother feel ashamed. I looked up at him, slightly shocked and very furious, not until now feeling like my body could move again. But it wasn't until one of them pulled out a gun that I actually darted to my feet.
I was just so sick of being shot at.
Already panting, I tried to run away from the line of fire as quickly as my shaking legs could carry me. It turned out that wasn't very far, before a lonely shot cut through the air. It echoed long after the bullet had been freed, the sound of death my metal bouncing between the buildings. I'd stopped dead in my steps, but oddly enough only metaphorically. Blinking, I realized I was alive.
I didn't want to turn around. I really didn't. By turning around, I knew there were only two things I'd see. Two things I really wanted to avoid, if possible, for the rest of my life. The first one of them being the barrel of a gun ready to make up for it's bad shot and try again, this time with my face as target practice. Or it could be the second, and I wasn't really sure which was worse.
Turning around stiffly, every muscle hurting when used, I looked straight into the eyes of Possibility Two. And he was not looking happy to see me. Raging blue eyes promising something bad if he ever got a hold of me. Jaws taut and painfully clenched, and as the cherry on top a gun in his hand. I let my eyes wander to his feet, where not entirely unexpected someone very dead was sprawled out. But expected or not, I still couldn't really decide if I wanted to be shocked about this or not. What I did feel, on the other hand, was outrage.
''What the hell?!'' was all I managed to get out, but it seemed to be enough as Boris bared his teeth threateningly at me.
''What the fuck do you think you're doing?! Are you an idiot?!''
Before I could respond, the last men standing seemed to think this was an excellent opportunity to avenge their fallen comrade and reclaim their masculinity, as all of them drew out knives. My breath hitched in my throat, as I realized what a dangerous situation I'd landed us all in.
Boris just pointed his gun at them, smiling. It was the scariest smile I'd ever seen on a pair of lips. People could die here, someone already had. And the worst part of it was that it was always, even from the start, my fault. I'd landed these people into this mess. Maybe Boris' life hadn't been roses and kisses to begin with, but I certainly hadn't improved it. All of this seemed like a pretty skillful fuck-up coming from a guy who was said to always think before he leaped.
I'd never felt so stupid, so ashamed. There I was, having fucked up so badly there didn't seem to be any way of fixing it, and all I'd done was bleed and run. I hadn't thought about anyone but me, I hadn't even tried to figure out a way to help the man who much reluctantly helped me. Even though he had no reason to. When Boris Kuznetsov is more of a humanitarian than you are, something is definitely wrong.
''What are you waiting for? Weren't you gonna attack me?'' Boris says, his voice a challenge in itself and I could smell the testosterone coming from every one of them.
They stared at each other for a minute of stretched silence, before Boris throws the gun away and charges at them. It seems like a very idiotic think to do, but there he is, going berzerk at all of them. Not needing any advantages, not caring about disadvantages. Right that moment he must've either have thought he was invincible, or he hadn't thought anything at all.
I couldn't quite understand what was happening. The five of them were like a blurry mass of colours and shouts that just mixed together, like the dusty clouds they always draw on cartoon shows. But instead of stars and arms flying around, there were teeth and blood and painful yelps. I wondered if I should do something, but figured I'd already done enough.
It was all over in a few seconds anyway, as one man fell and three others limped away from him. From Boris, the menace of mankind. Looking at him standing there, I was for the first time reminded of the Boris I knew. The one who took joy and pride in hurting people. The man whose eyes were either blazing with fury or cold, bone-chilling malicious glee. A drop of blood climbed down a lock of his hair, and he looked absolutely perfect.
In some grotesque, scary way this was how Boris was supposed to be. Maybe before the Abbey, before the end of his career and before the gangs and the violence, he was supposed to be someone else. A doctor maybe, or a social worker. Hell, he could even have become a kindergarten teacher. I didn't know, and I didn't care because it didn't matter. No matter who he could have been, this was who he had become. And it was the first time I thought about it that it really made sense.
Of course Boris being Boris he had to ruin every moment that wasn't life-threatening. Coming closer to me in a few, wide steps he'd managed to slap me and insult me in a matter of seconds. Feeling the sting of my burning cheek, I blinked stupidly at him. This crude awakening from my musings was startling, and it took a while for me to realize what he was yelling about.
''What the hell were you thinking?! Are you trying to get killed, is that it?!''
''I…'' but I couldn't get a word in, as Boris had set his mind on yelling me into the next year.
''Here I bust my damn ass off for you, and you ingrate son of a whore just run away! Do you know how long it took for me to find you? Do you realize what could have happened if I hadn't gotten here in time?!''
''Well, yes but…''
''They were working for Garland! You retard!''
''Hey, watch what you're saying now!''
I glared at him, suddenly my shocked subdued to leave room for irritation, and I was not enjoying the insults he was throwing at me like presents during Christmas.
''I could just kill you right now!''
''Oh, sure you'd like that you… you… you murderer!''
Boris let out this little insane laugh that you normally only hear from serial killers trying to convince a victim of why they have to die. He shook his head at me, but there wasn't an ounce of mirth in his eyes when hey leaned in to yell a little louder.
''I'm a murderer and you're a fucking idiot, so what?!''
I tried to push him away, feeling suddenly awkward about all of this.
''Just drop it, Boris!''
''No, Kon'' he panted, that serial-killer look on his face making my throat dry up as he pushed me.
Stumbling backwards, I leaned against a wall feeling I had reached my limit. I had gotten enough of this entire ordeal and I was taking it all out on him.
''God damn it, Boris!'' I yelled at him, sliding down into a sitting position. ''Why did you have to make everything so difficult?!''
''Me?!''
''Yes, you!''
He laughed again, looking even further from sane and sounding even closer to hysteria this time. I watched him warily as he strode around, kicking at stray objects, laughing. Again he came closer to me, the smile looking flat on his face, like some piece of dead skin you don't actually believe belongs there.
''You god damn idiot'' he said, drawing a forceful hand through his hair. ''I just can't believe you!''
He walked away from me again, searching the ground for something. It wasn't until he picked the gun up, dusting it off almost motherly, that I realized what he was looking for. He stood there, cleaning it until I'm sure he could see his own reflection in the metal, looking estranged from the earthly realm altogether.
There was a long moment of heavy silence when neither his maniacal laughter nor merciless wrath made itself known. Instead he just looked washed out, pale and colorless. Something in my stomach twisted into a knot, as this was probably the scariest I'd ever seen him. I'd never seen Boris look so lost before and I had no idea what to expect. Was he going to bite or not?
Suddenly he let out a strangled, hateful voice that made the skin on my back crawl.
''I did it for you.''
''What?''
''I did it for you, are you deaf?!'' his voice rose to a yell again, anger flushing his face with color, as his eyes seemed like they wanted to bring destruction upon everyone. ''I couldn't… I… Everything's just so fucking wrong!''
He slid down on his knees, watching the gun lifelessly for such a long time it scared me. I don't know what came over me, but I felt like all of this was for me to fix. Boris had done more than I ever thought him capable of, for me of all people. He'd saved a person he tried to kill some few years back, and how was I treating him? Little me, Saint Rei, the nice guy. I was treating him like utter crap.
''Boris'' I said with a low, tentative voice, hesistantly moving over to him. ''Boris, don't… I… I'm sorry.''
He didn't respond, just sat glaring at the ground like it had wronged him. With all the hatred he could muster, his body went rigid when I placed my hand on his shoulder. And it hurt to see my touch have such a negative impact on him. Not that I ever cared about what he thought of my touches before, but that moment it felt immensely important to me.
''Hey'' I said, looking at the gun in his hands as I got an idea. He glanced up at me, stubbornly but still curious as to what I was going to do next.
He didn't seem prepared for me to place my hands around his, cupping the gun in the process. Now he looked at me properly, eyes wide with frustration, asking if I was a total airhead. I just grimaced at him, as I wasn't really sure of that myself.
''My fingerprints are on this.'' I said, squeezing his hands. ''I'm not leaving you.''
Boris' glare hardened.
''Fuck off.''
I sighed, not able to keep myself from rolling my eyes. After looking at him with slight disappointment for a while, I nudged him to get some sort of attention. A question that had nagged at my mind finally fell into words on my tongue.
''Why did you save me?''
Boris' eyes went from wide to thin as he now became very intent on glaring a hole into the ground. At the same time I could feel his grip tightening around the gun, his frustration mutating into something a little bit more dangerous.
''Ever since our first match…'' he said, a bit reluctantly. ''I've watched you. I couldn't… stop. There was something so fucking fascinating that I…''
Then he silenced for what could have been a lifetime.
''Boris…''
''Shut up and leave me alone!''
He tried to push me away from him again, so out of his mind now I wasn't sure who he was more mad at. Me or himself for admitting something so personal? But I refused to be cut off, tightening my own grip to prove it, pushing him back a little.
''No, you shut up and tell me what the fuck you're trying to say!''
So he pushed again.
''Piss off!''
And I pushed back.
''Make me!''
There we sat, two grown men, pushing and bickering like small children. Drenched in anger and confusion and sweat, this was quite a morbid game we were playing. A game I was tired of losing.
''Boris…'' I sighed, pulling my hands back, but as I did he caught them, surprising me enough to make me gasp.
''Don't do anything that stupid again'' he threatened, still not looking at me.
''Boris… are you embarrassed?''
''Shut up!''
''You are!''
As my eyes widened with delight at this discovery, he himself was not as pleasantly surprised as I was. Instead he glared at me with promises of death before he pushed me to the ground. A small pain crawled up my spine as I hit the asphalt, but I still couldn't snuff out the curiosity in me. When Boris got to his feet, naturally I followed him.
''Where are you going?''
''Away from you!''
Despite his snarling and obvious hostility, I caught up to him and put a hand on his arm. But as I spun him around he countered me by gripping my wrist, so hard it would probably leave a bruise later on. Judging by the look on his face he was not playing around at all.
''Do you have any idea of what you've done? Fuck, Rei, you could've…''
''Hah!''
He frowned, getting very annoyed.
''What?''
''You called me by my first name.''
He opened his mouth to say something, but instead just slapped me again.
''What the hell was that for?!'' I growled at him, giving him the fiercest glare I could.
''Are you done now?! I'm trying to be serious here and you're acting like a fucking…''
''Retard?''
''Just lay down and die, will you?!''
He turned to storm away from me again, but I caught him by his jacket and reeled him back in. But just like any big fish he wasn't too keen on being caught.
''Okay, okay, I'm sorry, Boris it's just…'' I sighed. ''I'm tired of being hunted. I want my normal life back, and I'm sorry... I just tried to find help.''
He was silent, looking sternly at me, his eyes grim as a rainy day. And that was all it took, one look from him and my old fears and desperation came falling back like boulders. Just as he made me feel secure and guarded, he could always make me feel like I had my life on the line. Which I had, but still.
''This has to stop. We can't hide forever.''
''No, we can't.''
Boris sighed, frowning at himself as he knew what had to be done. More importantly, he knew what had to be said.
''Go find Kai.''
''But what about..?''
''It doesn't matter. If anyone can help you out of this, it's him''
''But where will you go?''
I hadn't noticed that my hands still lingered on his hips, comfortably. Like his hips were especially designed for my hands, like some sort of matching set. I really got a bit abhorred at how I could think such thoughts in that situation, but maybe it was the only thing that kept me from going mad. And since Boris hadn't noticed where my hands were either, I let them stay there.
''I have to find my people. To see if they think I'm loyal or if the word has spread. But most importantly, I have to find Garland.''
I just looked at him. I had expected to gasp at him in anger or shock or perhaps even dread, but all I could manage was to feel empty, almost as if someone carved out my insides. I knew this was the only way, perhaps I'd known for a long time that this would happen. Deep down a part of me wanted to protest, but that part remained silent as I let go of him, letting out a deep breath. Not ready to let go, but knowing I had to eventually.
''I'm sorry I got you into this.'' I said again, and he grunted.
''You and me both then.''
