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Blood?

My breath echoes in my ears harder than my heartbeat and confuses me even more. I study the shadows on my room’s walls and after relaxing a little, I let myself drop back on the bed.

The nightmare still plays under my eyelids. I can’t completely remember it, but I know what I saw. I remember the red blood, and the black that lived, breathed, flew around me as if suspended and then swallowed me.

I push away the blanket and see myself naked. When did I take my clothes off? I take a look at my phone and realize it’s still middle of the night. Why did I wake up now? Sulking, I relive tonight memories. After having a major fight with my best friend Tommy, I got out of his apartment and went to the Puzzle bar which was only two blocks away from my own apartment. I remember taking two shots of whiskey and chatting up a hot blonde, but after that it’s all a blank page with no lines whatsoever. Maybe I had more than two shots? Damn this stupid memory.

I get up from the bed and walk to the bathroom stark naked. But as I see myself in the mirror, I almost jump out of my skin. My usually long black hair which always gets in my face and makes girls take second looks is nowhere to be seen. I am freaking bald now! Oh I could kill myself! I obviously had taken more than two shots. And as I already know, drunk Sam is a jackass.

With a sigh, I turn on the tap, splash my face with water a few times and chase the sleep away. Weird but I have no headache. I usually have terrible hangovers and if I had drunk enough to let someone touch my hair, I should feel terrible right now. I take a suspicious look at the new me and shrug.

I want to go back when the face in the mirror stops me. It looks at me as though I’ve done this to him. “Do you realize how long I waited for my hair to grow like that? Why did you have to go and do that?” I snap.

The face just rolls his eyes and smiles mysteriously. “Blamin’ dear ol’ me again, are we? If you liked it that much, then you should’ve paid a lil’ bit more attention, huh? I just do what you don’t have the guts to do.”

I clench my fists and shout: “Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!” With one angry move, I pull the mirror off the wall and throw it on the floor. The sound of it shattering and spreading on the floor, somehow brings the links of my control chain together and calms me. My heavy and rapid breathing slows down and my fists unclench.

For a moment, the whole world loses meaning. I look at my hands and don’t know if they’re mine anymore. My eyes go back and forth on the floor tiles and little glass pieces of the mirror, but I can neither see the whiteness of the tiles nor understand the sharpness of the glass pieces. My eyes spin, but I don’t know how. My chest moves up and down and I swallow hard. I can clearly hear my heartbeat, yet I don’t understand why this is happening. What’s the meaning of it all? I put a hand on my chest and try to steady myself. What’s going to happen?

I don’t struggle for breath anymore. My chest is once more stable, but I feel a pressure inside my throat. Soon, it gets to my chest and then slaps me across the face. The pressure is increasing. Suddenly something doesn’t work right and I fall. Black shadows surround me like little black ants and then everything collides.

{Long Pause}

I wake up with a headache. Why am I on the bathroom floor? Scratch that. Why I am naked?

On the second try, I move my tired limbs and stand. Pieces of my shattered mirror are in the trash bin. When did I get drunk? Alright that’s it. I have to make myself a promise. No more alcohol. Never.

I return to my room and pick up my cellphone, then call Tommy and listen to the beeps, hoping he would eventually pick up. It must have been his doing. I must have gone back, made up with him and then celebrated with one of his premium bottles. Yeah, there’s no doubt. Like that time when I accidentally killed his cat and then made it up to him with yet another one of his great bottles. Poor guy never noticed that I took his bottles all the time. He thought I would buy something so expensive just for him. We might have a good laugh in like ten years when I explain everything to him.

Why wouldn’t the little bastard pick up?

Oh I’m such an idiot! He must be asleep somewhere around his house just like me. I’ll call him tomorrow.

I don’t like sleeping naked, but I usually like anything if it means I can slack off a little. So while I am still cursing my headache, I crawl under my blanket. Oh how the pillow smells like good French perfume. My mouth must smell like alcohol though. I blow into my hand, but can’t sense anything. Well, whatever. I close my eyes and go out in less than a second.

{Long Pause}

I wake up a little after sunrise and feel no sign of a headache whatsoever, so I happily get up, get dressed and while listening to Beyoncé, make myself a great breakfast. Bacon and eggs and of course juice. I’m even feeling content enough to finally use the toaster.

Murmuring to the music, I stand and call Tommy again. The first time, I’m all happy and smiling. But I scowl the second time and by the third time, I’m ready to rip his face off.

But the fourth time I call him, a very low pitched voice which definitely isn’t Tommy’s, finally answers. “Yes?”

“Don’t tell me he threw a party last night! Who are you? Get Tommy. It’s urgent.”

When I hear the man’s next words, my heart stops beating for a second. I don’t know what I wear or even how I climb eighty-five stairs down and take a taxi. I can’t even hear myself telling the address to the driver. Words are meaningless and get lost in the labyrinth of my chaotic mind. I keep blinking and listening to other cars’ honks and revs until suddenly I am in front of Tommy’s apartment and see the yellow tape around the perimeter. How can this be?

Just a few nights ago during Tommy’s party in this exact apartment something got stuck in Alec’s throat and I saved his life. I’d only seen CPR in a video before, but that night I did it myself and bought an old friend’s life with it. But maybe I shouldn’t have. Maybe I should have let him die. Maybe this house was going to take a life sooner or later, and if I hadn’t saved Alec, now Tommy was alive.

With heavy hearted steps, I go toward his apartment. I have to see it with my own eyes. I just have to.

A fat cop who hardly fits in his uniform tries to stop me but I shout at him and walk away with tears in my eyes. Then a thirty something woman in a suit approaches me, trying to calm me down with her friendly face and words that don’t mean anything to me, but to no avail. My heart still contracts wildly and breath still hitches violently. Upon entering Tommy’s apartment, I am confronted by a lot of cops and forensic examiners. They are constantly moving and taking pictures of every single thing in the apartment. An upside down sofa, a broken bottle, red wine spilled on Tommy’s expensive white carpet. But most of the eyes are on my best friend’s bloody body.

He is sitting on the sofa, a bloody knife sticking out of his neck and blood covering his shirt. Blue terrified eyes wide open, mouth still screaming silently. Golden hair in his eyes and hands still and lifeless. I can see the black ring on his index finger that looks like a wolf’s head. I bought it for him. His face and fingers are bruised and the bloody meat of his neck is visible under the knife’s handle. His mouth is open, eyes terrified and his chest no longer moves by his breath. He is dead.

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I can’t look at him anymore, so I turn away and close my wet eyes. My stomach twists and I can’t breathe. When I finally open my eyes again, the world spins around me and I fall into the abyss.

{Long Pause}

“Look, I don’t like this any more than you do, alright? I just need to know what happened to Tommy before the incident, how he was feeling and if you saw anything suspicious before leaving. This is for Tommy, Mr. Sorrento. I know you’re not in the best of situations, but please cooperate. We want to catch his murderer and with your help we definitively can. I promise you that.”

I rub a hand over my face and wipe any tears. Nodding, I try to open my mouth and tell her that I would help, but I can’t find the words and Tommy’s lifeless body and terrified eyes won’t leave my mind’s eye alone.

I close my eyes, trying to delete that vision. I try imagining that he is still alive and all of this is some kind of a dream, or a game. I try picturing it as surreal, and I succeed.

When I start talking, I am obviously unsure of what I should say, but that is all I can manage, so she doesn’t protest. “I was going to stay over last night. We wanted to stay up all night and watch a few 90s’ series. But then we got into a fight. Nothing too drastic. I mean we both said some stupid shit and suddenly it was serious. I don’t even remember why it started. Anyway, I got mad and left. Like a little girl I threw a freakin’ tantrum. I didn’t see anything suspicious around. I mean, I didn’t pay attention, but why would I? I went straight to a bar and then…” I drop my head. “I should have stayed with him”

Here come the tears again.

“Yeah, should have stayed with him. I’m a shitty friend… damn it I should have stayed!”

My sobs stop me from saying more. So I give in, take my head between my hands and cry.

{Long Pause}

Thursday, September 20. Two days after my friend’s murder. I didn’t go to his funeral. I couldn’t. His mother and brother were there and I couldn’t face them. I want the world to shrink to the size of my room. My mind. I don’t want to see, hear or hug anyone. I just want to be alone.

Yesterday the cops asked me if Tommy had any enemies. Of course I said nothing. Tommy had no enemies. He never made anyone mad. No. At least I don’t remember any such situation. He was good to everyone and tried to solve every problem by talking. No one hated him enough to hurt him. So why is he dead?

I couldn’t sleep last night. Every now and then my friend’s dead body came to the blackness of my mind and reddened it. Always trying to drown me in its redness. Still it lingers. Tommy with a knife in his neck, now lives in my head.

The fresh blood on his skin was in stark contrast to his blue eyes. There were even small round spots of red on his chin and cheeks. The bloody blade of the silver knife with which we always screwed around, deep in his neck. Blood everywhere.

I remember that night now. I had a big fight. Tommy was mumbling about going back to his ex-girlfriend and I knew how poisonous their relationship used to be. I tried to remind him of it and stop him. But the bastard had made his mind. So I left. And that’s why Tommy drowned in his own blood.

The doorbell to my apartment rings and makes me come out of the red nothingness.

When I open the door, I see Jessica, eyes swollen and face pale. Her dark long hair is disheveled, as if she too doesn’t have a reason anymore.

I step aside and invite her in. She enters with a feigned smile. I close the door and with a voice I hardly recognize anymore, say: “please, sit.”

I go toward my sofa and take a seat on the left side. The right side was Tommy’s seat. I couldn’t take his place, could I?

Jessica sits on the single sofa in front of me and puts her bag on the coffee table. I can’t look her in the eye. I’m afraid my eyes would rat me out.

“He called me that night.” Her voice hitches. Like she has cried right until the morning. “He wanted to get back together. He kept apologizing. You know how he is… was…”

I nod.

“I… I told him I’d think about it. Just letting him hang a little, you know… I said I’d call him later! I don’t know if you sense it too but now I feel like my world is ending…”

Finally, she can’t take it anymore and tears swim down her cheeks.

I let myself go on the sofa. “It’s okay Jess. Cry. I know you loved him.”

Still sobbing, she says: “Sam… I don’t know… I don’t know if I can keep living like this. It’s like I’m already dead!”

“Come on Jess. Life goes on. Tommy would get mad if he was here. Stop it.”

Suddenly someone knocks on the door, seemingly in a hurry. I go to the door perplexed, open it and…

{Long Pause}

“Is that all you remember Mr. Sorrento?”

I nod. I’m holding a bag full of ice on my head, sitting in front of the same policewoman from before and answering her questions.

My eyes go to Jessica. She has been strangled. There are new bruises on her neck, like she’s been hanged. The cops say the murderer choked her to death with some kind of wire from behind. They’re also doing all sorts of stupid examinations like fingerprint analysis. But what’s the use? Does this bring the victim back?

I can’t feel anything anymore. I am as cold as the bag of ice I keep pressuring to my head. Flames of life have gone out. Gone out, like they never burned. Never pushed the darkness back. There is no fire. No ash either. Now the only thing remaining is the coldness in my bones and mind.

I hear an officer whispering to the woman: “Maria, don’t you think we should check the boy too? I mean, it could be him, right?”

Staring at the ground, I hear the policewoman say: “No, it’s not him. Do me a favor James, will you? The eye witness I talked to… the guitarist… tell him to come back. I have a few more questions. I think we can get something out of him.”

Witness. Murderer. Like any of this matters. My friends would never come back to life.

It doesn’t make any sense. Like my life’s expiration date is due. When I went to school, all I could dream about was the life that I lived until a few days ago. Everything was ideal. But now suddenly everything is over and my dream has become a bloody nightmare that gets worse every second. I go deeper and deeper. I don’t get it. Why?

{Long Pause}

“Can I call you Sam?”

I nod and politely add: “Of course. Please.”

Travis Hadelson is a reedy bearded guy in his forties, with a sweet and of course false smile on his lips. Apparently he is very eager to hear my story. But all psychologists are.

“Alright Sam. I understand that very recently you lost two of your close friends. I’m sorry that I have to make you relive everything, but this is really necessary. It’s for your own good. Now, could you tell me about your friends? How do you feel about them?”

“How do I feel?” Was my voice always like this? “I mean… there’s nothing. Nothing to feel anymore. what should I do? Find new friends after two weeks? Forget Tommy? Does life let me start over? I don’t feel anything Mr. Hadelson, and I’ll tell you exactly what I mean by that. I don’t feel like I can laugh ever again or even look at our photos without crying. And I don’t think everything is ever going to be normal. That’s how I feel.”

Hadelson folds his hands and leans toward me.

“Why? Yes, I know it’s very difficult time for you. But life goes on Sam. The sun rises over the horizon every day and sets on the other side. The moon keeps on shining. Life goes on and you can come back to it. You only need time. You should accept your friends’ death and let them go. Not imprison yourself inside.”

“Why do I even have to live?”

“You mean to suicide?”

“Yeah. What’s the difference if I do it myself or somebody else does? I’m gonna die either way. Does it matter? Didn’t matter for Tommy. He died anyway. If life ends so easily, well, I don’t want it either. Why would I?”

“You mean to say you had no goals in your life before Tommy died? Nothing going on for you? No girlfriend? What about your parents? Other friends? Before thinking about suicide, take a long moment and think about the effect your death is going to have on others. Would you have liked it if Tommy left you like this? Taking his own life?”

“I… I don’t know. I just want everything to end. I wish I didn’t see his body every second of the day. I can’t take it anymore. No matter what I do or where I go…”

My hand goes toward my pants pocket and touches something unfamiliar. Perplexed, I dig in and take it out.

A knife.

I don’t remember ever buying this brown switchblade knife. Maybe I got it from someone? Why don’t I remember?

I bring the blade out and suddenly remember everything.

I see myself going back to Tommy’s apartment.

I remember killing him with this exact knife. I remember his warm blood on my face. Tommy was startled. He didn’t believe I could do something like this to him. Why? Because he stole some of my girlfriends over the years? Why did I cut his throat? Why did I take his life? I remember doing this, but I still don’t know the reason.

When I was getting out of his apartment, someone saw me. Maybe he had heard the noises. So I shaved my hair of. Now I remember.

And Jessica… there was no ring to the doorbell. No, I just got up, locked the door. That’s what I did. Then I took my knife out and cut Jessica’s throat too. Her blood was everywhere and it warmed my hands. I didn’t give Jessica time to get surprised. Just killed her while she was crying. Everything was red. Blood? Yes. It was all blood.

“Sam?”

I killed them.

“Sam, are you okay?”

Suddenly my mind glitches. The face in front of me keeps moving his mouth and saying incomprehensible things. Was the moving hand mine? Why didn’t I already know that?

{Long Pause}

When I open my eyes, I find Mr. Hadelson on the table. Blood is pouring out of his neck and coloring the table and his lifeless hands.

I look at his blood and see my own reflection. Red and dark, and defacing his features. I can clearly see the smile on his lips.

“You dumb as shit, Sam. Never try holdin’ me back. Don’ even think ‘bout it. When I want somethin’, I’m puttin’ it in your mind. And you can’t do shit!” His terrifying voice echoes in my head.

My cellphone rings. I take it out with bloody hands and answer. The detective’s soft voice echoes in my ear: “Mr. Sorrento, we caught the killer! Alec Bishop went to college with you, right? According to what I heard from your friends, he was in love with Jessica and…”

The cellphone slips from my hand and falls to the ground.

I don’t get it. They caught the killer?

I look up to the table.

Mr. Hadelson looks at me perplexed and then writes something down.

I take another look at my hands. What happened to all the blood?