Page 58 of Ruin

Left arm hooking over the back of the passenger seat, I flick my chin over my shoulder, right hand on the wheel. I check the private road behind me is clear and then… I hear a low whine.

My head whips back around, mouth popping open a little before quickly snapping closed. The tall black gates start to move, slowly parting to open outwards. My arm drops from the back of the seat to the gear stick, fingers flexing over the round top of it. I lick my lips, swallow dryly and wait until they stop moving.

And then I do nothing.

Staring up the dark driveway, I wonder if I should leave anyway. Whatever happens here isn’t going to change anything. I don’t even know if I want it to. I feel breathless, like no matter how much air I suck into my lungs, it’ll never be enough. Then the gates start to move again, closing, and I have mere seconds to make a decision.

Fuck, what am I doing here?

Maybe I should just stop thinking.

I shove the car into gear, slam my foot down on the accelerator, and burst through the slow closing gates, catching the wing mirror on the left side as I do, but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything right now that isn’t Charlie Swallow.

Slowing my speed, I wind up the curling driveway. Lanterns lining the gravel road, tyres kicking it up with clouds of dust, the tiny stones pinging off of the paintwork. I come to a stop just past the wide mouthed stone staircase. Turn the key, switching off the engine, I peer ahead, stare into the darkness, grab the bottle on my passenger seat and get out before I can rethink it.

The night’s sky is clear, the air cold, wind whistling ominously through the manicured fir trees lining the property, blowing their full branches of needles back and forth with a calming swoosh.

I feel his eyes on me before I register the click of the opening door, and as though I’m dragged in his direction, I turn on my heel.

His bright green eyes are almost black in the dark, face shadowed, his hollow cheeks appearing deeper, like his cheekbones are cut from marble.

I’m at the bottom of the steps before I’ve instructed my feet to move, never taking my eyes from his. I stare up at him, shirtless, low hanging black jeans clinging to his hips, Adonis belt carved like a valley through his lower abs. He stares back, silent, loose limbed, head cocked, chin dipped, his white hair flopping forward, half hiding his newly scarring eye.

It’s like staring upon a God and The Devil, dark light warping as it travels through his veins. His angelic outsides hiding his sinister insides. Yet, my knees want to buckle, hit the stone and crawl me to his feet.

My fist curls at my sides, the muscles in my forearms bunching and flexing, but I don’t move to climb the stairs. As though I’m frozen in place, I stand statue still, waiting for what, I’m not sure, until he speaks.

“Come on then,” he rasps, rough words whipping through the harsh slap of wind, and my feet are pounding against stone.

I smell him, intoxicating smoke, iron, cigarettes, something that cuts through it all, fresh and clean, all of it rendering both my brain and my heart useless.

He says nothing, giving me his back and sloping his way back inside the dark house. Marble clicks beneath my heels, the heavy door closing with a soft click at my back, and he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t quiz me on why I’m here, why now. Just continues deeper into the house. And I follow. Unspeaking, letting the angel-faced monster lead me to what I already know will be my death.

In one way or another.

The night feels heavy. Storm clouds circling despite the outside being clear. Here, inside, it brews like poison in a witches cauldron. Something sick and terrifying claws at the walls, eagerly anticipating the destruction readying to unfold. Yet, we both continue, footsteps unfaltering, we gracefully venture through the marble mansion.

It’s hot when we reach the sunroom. A jungle of exotic plants and flowers. Wisteria covers the ceiling, buds of purple hanging in grape-like bunches. Wide fans of unusually shaped, shiny leaves, growing on trees I can’t name. Bright flowers wear luminous coloured petals, everything full of life, blooming even under the dark sky.

Sweat beads along my nape, and I’m stripping my jacket off as Charlie gracefully folds himself into a white wicker chair. Angled so the person taking up residence in the chair’s view is of the expansive garden. There are no neighbours here, no buildings, nothing for acres and acres but this house.

Folding my jacket over the back of it, I sit in the chair opposite without him inviting me to, his eyes locked on the gardens, but I feel him watching me in the reflection of the large window. Glass clinks against glass as I lift the bottle of liquor hanging between my fingers, place it down onto the small table between the chairs. Condensation runs down the inside of the glass room, the outside world much colder than in here, but it feels more like the night is crying. As though this room full of living, breathing organisms that thrive in the sun’s rays is really just a mirage.

A room of deception, something pretty occupying the space, smothering the truth. A place of death and decay. A place hearts come to die.

“Why are you here, Kazimir?” Charlie asks without looking at me.

His hands palm down on the arms of his chair, fingers relaxed, naturally curling inwards as he leans his back against the cushioned wicker.

Instead of answering his question, I lean forward, snatching up the bottle of vodka. The cap pings as I twist it off, discarding it to the terracotta tiles beneath our feet. Liquid glugging loudly as I gulp a couple mouthfuls down straight from the bottle like a heathen. Leaning forward, I place it back down, wipe my clammy palms over my knees, fabric of my designer trousers soft beneath my rough fingers.

“I came to see you,” I tell him, a short huff of knowing expelled through his nostrils, he shakes his head, but he doesn’t speak.

I swallow, gliding my eyes onto the view too, trying to come up with literally anything to fucking say that isn’t the truth.

When I’m with you, I feel like myself.

No one gets me like you do.

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