When Mac's lids cracked open he came face to face with the devil. He was in the fiery pits of hell. And Satan had a colt 45 pointed at his face.
Mac dropped to the rocky ground and scooted as far away from the satanic figure as possible before hitting the cave wall and curling up in a ball, completely cowering. He chanced a peek through his shaky fingers to see if it was all just a dream. Nope. He was still in hell, and Lucifer was pulling back the hammer.
Mac was about to scream when an alluring sound met his ears. An angel was speaking to the devil, her words coming out in visible plumes of silky persuasion. She was the most beautiful thing Mac had ever seen, all dressed in white with big feather-down wings. Even the bloody gashes along her cheeks dripping crimson were magnificent to his warped mind. Mac crawled to her feet, clinging to her legs like the broken child he truly was.
Kristy watched as Walter abruptly drew his pistol and pointed it at Mac's spun out figure. She'd been planning on killing the hick herself just hours before. Now all her superior brain power was racing to find a way to save his life.
'I must be bipolar to top it all off, good lord. Best go the business route with this. He obviously has no heart for his son, a man after my own empty cavity.'
"Are you absolutely positive you want to do that?" she asked pointedly, taking a small casual step closer in case she needed to tackle her new boss to the ground.
Walter cocked the gun and readied to fire a bullet into his now sniveling son, giving her a questioning look. "Why would I not? This fuck up has caused me nothing but problems from the day his whore of a mother popped him out."
She took a long calculating look over at Mac from where he huddled his body against the wall, seemingly trying to disappear into it.
"That may be true but with the proper person on his case twenty-four seven he may improve." She offered.
When he did not look one bit swayed she continued on the business path. "I won't have the time to be packaging the product myself. Also, when I'm cooking I'll need a look out, this place isn't exactly secure, a guard dog if you will." She stepped a bit closer. "Think about it Walter, not all of your local customers will be able to afford what I make either. As much as we both may disdain Mac, we need him."
They both watched as Mac crawled to her, wrapping his arms around her legs, nuzzling his face into the side of her thigh. 'Shit, too much LSD.'
Walter looked from his idiot son to her, confused. "What the hell is that? Why is he acting like he's tripping out?"
She couldn't help but laugh when Mac hid behind her legs at Walter's voice. "I may have gotten the dosages of a few ingredients slightly off. Give me a break, I've been out of the lab for months."
Walter reset the hammer on his gun and slipped it into his pants. The girl had a point about the locals not being able to afford what she was cooking up. Mac would live to see another day, but under strict supervision.
"You want him alive? Fine, he's yours. But be warned, his fuck up is now your fuck up so you had best keep him in line." Walter warned, knowing that was a tall order to fill. He himself had the hardest of times keeping his wild son under control.
"Since you're the reason he doesn't have a vehicle you're responsible for him getting here every day until the tires come in." Walter added, giving her a small smirk at the mention of her handiwork.
Kristy nodded in agreement, a little smile of her own playing on her lips. She felt like she'd just pulled off a grand master illusion, getting away with her life, and Mac's in her hands. Speaking of Mac, his grip on her legs was starting to make her feet go numb from lack of circulation. When her endeavor to pry his limbs from hers was thwarted by the thick bands of muscle in his biceps she twisted her head around and hissed for him to let go. No luck.
Walter chuckled at her attempts at freedom. "You're stuck with him now." he joked before ordering her to close up shop and begin a new batch bright and early in the morning.
Once Walter was gone the vice-like hold on her slackened and she was able to step away to begin the meticulous process of cleanup. Mac sat drawing something in the dirt, not a problem for once.
When she was finished she was pleased to see him following her out of the cave in a fog, glad she would not have to drag his doped up ass.
"Are we going to heaven?" she heard come from behind her as she approached the Denali.
'What in the? Who knows what kind of freak show is going on under that greasy hair.' She huffed and pushed him towards the glass-filled passenger seat after wrenching the door open.
"No way in hell either of us are going to heaven Mac." she answered, playing into the crazy.
"Are we going to hell together?" he asked, taking her hand in his after she'd climbed into her own seat.
She figured maybe she overdosed the opiates as well, he was far too mellow for her regular mixture.
"You bet sweet face, together in a hand basket." she replied sarcastically and stole her hand back, the tender touch creeping her out.
With one hand firmly attached to the wheel and the other occupied with a freshly lit cigarette she switched on the high beams even though dusk was still lingering. No need to go pitching off a cliff after she just escaped death twice today. After finding the highway and traveling it a couple miles she was ripped from her reprieve of enjoying the cooling air rushing into the windowless car when she realized she had no idea where he lived.
She looked over to find him in a daze of his own. Waving her smoking hand near his face to get his attention she asked "Where am I taking you?". Her only answer was to have her cigarette stolen and finished off.
"Where do you live?" she tried again with snapped fingers in front of his face.
He looked like he was genuinely trying to focus on an answer, his scruffy features screwed up in concentration. He shrugged, giving up.
Kristy sighed in annoyance. Her head was still killing her from last night's whiskey, not to mention the blow to the back of the head she'd received from the man beside her along with a few slaps. She tongued the open flesh of her split lip and decided stopping at the Luna Mesa to ask Walter for directions wasn't worth her time. She'd just have to pick him back up the next morning anyways.
She'd never been so happy to see the cottage illuminated in her headlights. She was surprised to find herself mentally calling it home as she made her way to the house alone. Not bothering to escort the drugged shit head. For all she cared he could sleep out there. She didn't bother with food thanks to still being nauseous. Not that she had any if she were hungry. Mac had straggled in after her, slamming both doors behind him.
"You sleep there." she instructed slowly while pointing at the couch, making sure he understood.
He must have comprehended because he flopped down and didn't move, just looking up at her with glazed unfocused eyes. She shook her head at the sight of him. 'What the hell did I make? I wonder if there's a market for it.'
She continued on to her bedroom, shutting her door behind her and wishing it had a lock. She undressed and slipped into her only pair of sleeping clothes, a rare occasion. She was not about to sleep naked with a drugged up sex freak in the next room.
After brushing her teeth she flopped down into bed and sighed in relief, glad the day was over. Not ten minutes later she heard her door open and she was grabbing for the knife attached to her favored side of the bed. She waited, faking sleep as the sound of boots crept around to the other side of the mattress.
Mac's weight was prominent on the cushioning across from her. The hair on the back of her neck rose as she felt him slide up to her back and wrap his arms around her.
Her entire body tensed and she sucked in a deep breath only to let it out in an angry scream as she twisted around to face him in his embrace, holding the knife against his exposed jugular. "What the hell do you think you're doing Romeo!? I don't cuddle!"
Mac didn't open his eyes but his face formed into a pout. If she had not been so uncomfortable it might have actually been cute. He mumbled some unintelligible words out, the only ones she could discern were "Please, angel".
She full on growled and threw her weight against his intertwined hands behind her back. Claustrophobia most likely along with a few other disorders and phobias were setting in. Finally his grasp broke and she was on her back, at the very edge of the bed with his right arm trapped under her.
Mac snuggled up to her again, laying his head on her tank top covered chest and re-wrapping his left arm tightly around her middle. A leg was thrown over hers for extra stifling precaution. Kristy sighed in frustration and irritation.
After stabbing the knife into the wall above her head she began roughly stroking his dirty hair and back. The sooner he passed out, the sooner she could get free.
He smelt horrible and probably hadn't showered weeks. Not to mention his breath. She'd have to boil the sheets, her clothes too. Besides the unpleasant stench she regrettably began to feel her muscles relax under his weight. She'd never been held like this by anyone, ever. It was strange, and scary.
Her heart, despite her insistence at not having one, was pounding away at ninety miles an hour. She didn't like it, but she didn't exactly hate it as much as she should either, the story of her entire two days of knowing the slimeball wrapped around her.
While she lay there, absentmindedly gently caressing him, she thought about what exactly he was doing to her. Emotionally, psychologically. Another human being had never invoked feeling in her before. Be most of those feelings rage and possessiveness, they were still feelings.
She was bewildered at it. There was nothing remarkable or special about him. Other than fitting into her 'fucked up life theme' as Joe would have called it. Kristy was certain he was shaking his head up at her, watching her lay there with a junkie snuggled up to her. 'Why him?'
She realized his breathing had slowed and deepened some time during her little inner exploration. He was even letting out light snores now. She slowly, with more regret than she should have felt, peeled his arm off her. Then replaced her chest with the two pillows from behind her head before slipping her legs out from under his. Just like that she was free. She sucked in a huge breath of relief from where she had silently slipped down onto the floor.
Light from the hall spilled into the room and was illuminating his face just so. She felt the urge to indulge in one of her few hobbies and sketch out a picture of the slumbering monster before her. She couldn't exactly sleep after the adrenaline that was pumped through her from his innocent invasion of her personal space.
Kristy quietly extracted her charcoal and drawing pad from her bottom dresser drawer. Resuming her spot on the floor she studied his lines for a moment before setting to work, her hand flying across the page in rapid strokes. Getting his general outline down.
While she worked on shadowing her mind wandered to the vulnerable act he was committing. Sleeping next to someone was the most intimate someone will ever be with another human. In sleep, you are completely defenseless. Here he was curled before her, trusting her not to end his life, not to hurt him. He looked so soft and supple with all his hard exteriors peeled away, childlike.
Perhaps that's why she had this wretched soft spot for him. He reminded her of and alternate version of herself. What she could have become if her mother had never died or Joe hadn't been charmed enough to take her in. She could have been Mac. She pitied him.
Hours later, thoroughly disgusted with herself and her new found feelings. She put the pad aside after the finishing touches were added and crawled into bed on the opposite side he lay on with her back to him.
Just as sleep took her she felt Mac's arms wrapping around her again. This time she unconsciously pressed herself closer to him.