Page 13 of Hearts Etched in Glass
I gawk at her, hand clutching my chest as I immediately stomp back to Kenneth, dodging another swing of her carved, Loki staff.
As I wait with Kenneth, he lowers down to my ear and gracefully whispers, “I told you.”
Whereas I reply with a simple, “Piss off!”
We stand in silence for several more minutes before Baba finally finishes her ritual. I’m secretly praying the elves do not give me syphilis in retaliation or do anything to mymemberfor thatmatter.
We gather Baba’s belongings and assist her by cleaning up the herbs and paints. Then Kenneth returns some belongings to her cottage. He shouts back at us to head to his vehicle so we can go to our meeting with the new client. When Baba and I are finally alone, I swallow down the apprehension and self-loathing that tries to bubble up my chest. Approaching my grandmother, I grasp the side of my arm, squeezing it with all of my might. “Baba. I have a question before we go. Do you have anything that may help with my symptoms?” I grab the bucket of water, dousing the fiery embers, welcoming the smell of smoke into my senses.
Cocking an eyebrow at me, she looks me up and down. “You need a faith my crazy boy. You need to follow something to give you strength. The Gods above give me strength. If you give them a chance, they would be more than happy to lend you some as well.”
“Baba, I need something more. Don’t you have a potion or something?” I sound like such a needy bastard.
Baba turns abruptly, shoving her fingers up my nostrils and pulling her face close to mine. “Listen here. Cease your mindless whinging and man the fuck up. Get a higher power and follow it. I don’t care if it isOdin, God, Allah, Shiva, Yahwah or whomever, but believe in something and let it give you strength. Every time you want to use, slap yourself or have Tilly slap you. Then pray. Pray hard. There is no simple step. There is no easy fix. My vision was to turn you into the beast you were meant to be but unfortunately that beast couldn’t handle reality, so I blame myself a little bit for your drug problem. But you decided to pick up the needle. You decided to plunge it into your veins.” Her pupils blow as her speech becomes reverent. “You are not your brothers, but did they turn to drugs when life tortured them? Did I turn to drugs when I lost babies, your grandfather and those dearest to me? Life is hard my crazy boy, but you have to become hardheaded so it can’t fuck with you.”
As our eyes stay engrossed with one another, her gaze becomes full of sorrow. “I regret what I did to you and I’m sorry. But from this day forward, let’s make it right. Together.”
“Baba, I would agree but I can’t nod because your fingers are fondling my brain,” I mumble against the back of her hand. So, she moves my head in agreement for me.
Kenneth’s voice comes from Baba’s cottage. “For fuck’s sake would you two stop talking about stupid fucking religion and hurry up?” His jaw is visibly tense as a shadow of annoyance crosses his face.
Baba whispers up at me, “Don’t ever bring up religion to Kenneth.”
I furrow my brow. “What’s his fucking problem?”
“Don’t ask!” she warns, then runs into her cottage for a moment, as I climb on the back of my motorbike. I scan her grounds, and I see something underneath a tarp on the side of her cottage, but before I can get up to look at it, she has returned and shoves something in my chest.
“Take these two times a day. It will give you the shits, but it will help the cravings and weening. Also, find a fucking religion.” She pokes my chest with her other arthritic hand, then climbs into Kenneth’s Crossley. He stands beside the back passenger door and once he closes it, he glares at me.
Jesus, so fucking histrionic.
Chapter 6: Marcus
I am Not Okay,Jelly Roll
Outside of Lockham hides a hidden manor that delights in many forbidden activities. Different perversions and fantasies come to life, for even these things would cause The Afton Adder massage girls to blush or run in horror.
Rounding the steel, spiral staircase I approach the room where I will meet my Master. I have never seen his face. I do not know his name. He is completely anonymous to me, other than from the feel of his touch, the sting of his palm and the roughness of his voice. Following regular procedures that I agreed to, Ienter the room, shedding my garments, and place the blindfold over my eyes. Then I kneel on the ground facing the fireplace, awaiting his presence.
I still haven’t understood why I am, the way I am.
Maybe I feel like I deserve the punishment, the lashings and harassment. To be degraded for being the abhorrent creature that I am. To want such filthy debauchery.
The word catches in my mind, as I follow it back to my night with Tilly and Bobby. It was something I could not have imagined would happen in any lifetime. The taste of Bobby’s skin, the excitement in Tilly’s eyes almost beckoning for more of us. Though I anticipate they will have regretted our interaction by now. It is a far-fetched dream, but the dream is comforting to imagine during my dark, depressing nights.
I’ve always loved Bobby but never told him. We don’t have relationships like that in Lockham and I doubt Bobby would ever be attracted to me in that manner because he is infatuated with Tilly. When I was young, I thought he may have possibly had the same affection, when offered to practice snogging. But that was a fleeting moment of childish discovery. Still, I photographedevery single second of that experience into my memory, so I could hold it in my heart. Until the day I die. The vortex of images grows in my mind. As I think of Tilly laying bare, Bobby’s hot breath, how I yearn for both of them. My heart begs to be theirs, but I am not of their plan. Maybe in another life we may come together and be one, but this is not of destiny’s choosing. A single, sorrowful tear slides down my lonely cheek. Tilly and Bobby’s bright faces shine behind my eyelids but are quickly removed as I feel a slap across my face. The sting spreads up towards my temple as my ear rings.
“Did you not hear me? You filthy boy!” my Master yells. I didn’t even recognize that he was in the room, let alone trying to speak to me.
“I did not know our scene had begun,” I say, then another slap hits my face as a tooth cuts into my lip and I feel the metallic taste on my tongue.
“Did I say you could speak? No! Insolent, pathetic moron. As soon as I enter the room the scene begins. Clearly you are distracted, why?” I can hear his footsteps recede, and I hear his heavy belt buckle hit the floor. I swallow hard, fighting my urge to tell him about Tilly and Bobby, for they are sacred, they are mine and I donot want him tainting my beautiful memory of them. I deserve the pain. I deserve torture, but that memory does not deserve any affiliation with it.
His large palm grasps my chin as he spits in my face, the remnants of alcohol stained within it.
“You dare defy me?” His voice is venomous, causing my skin to prickle, for the last time he was this intoxicated and had spoken to me in that tone, I could not walk afterwards.
So, I think of something to reply, “I want something I can’t have,” I reply in a shaky voice, my nails digging into my upper thighs.
