Chapter 137: Cheli V

I Had to Do It

Chapter 137: Cheli V—I Had to Do It

Montreal--1986

I had to do it.... I had to do it.... I had to do it... I had to do it.

The phrase was wracking through Chelios’ mind as he stumbled out onto the parking lot and fell against the wall. He stood there for only a moment in the frigid night air and looked up at the night sky, at the stars pricking sharp like pinholes. They reminded him of the eyes on the ceiling and he knew the stars were staring at him too. What would they have done then if they were judging him like this? What would THEY have done differently?

I had to do it.

There was not another choice.

Chelios could only take one step before he lurched forward and vomited onto the sidewalk. He kept his eyes closed as he pressed his arms against his stomach and then he staggered away from the pool. His mouth tasted evil now erased of that flavor of salt and sweet. He ran his hand across the back of his mouth and when he sat down in his car his eyes noticed the half-empty whisky bottle.

Like a man dying of thirst, Chris grabbed the bottle and began to chug the dark liquid spitting it out of the door and onto the street. Finally he took a long swig from the bottle swallowing and letting the alcohol seep down into his belly, warming him and the fumes floated from his nostrils. The noise was sharp as he tossed the bottle out of his window and let it shatter on the street.

"Fuck it," he muttered. "There are worse things in life then just doing what you have to."

Not much of a screamer. Not much noise at all. Breathing, moaning, growling, hissing, the marks on his arms. The pain on his neck.

Disjointed, fragmented phrases went through his head as he drove home. Nothing had really been connected, or made sense at all. The eyes had moved. They had closed. They had blinked. They had looked at him. He had felt the stare and he didn’t know why he should be so important. He didn’t know why any of this should be so important. He had heard of worse, much worse. Why should they care now?

The crawling was on his skin at well like the feel of tiny insect legs slithering up his sleeves and pant legs, burrowing in his flesh. Tickle, tickle at his scalp and he didn’t know how to explain it or if he should ignore it. And whose fault was this? Of course he knew whose fault this was.

Driving into the parking lot of his apartment complex, Chris recognized Tracee’s car and he screamed, hitting the steering wheel with his fist as he parked. Why of all times? They had fought again and she had left last week, saying she would never come back. She had made that ultimatum and he had understood it.

It’s not that he wanted Tracee gone. He missed her terribly the moment she had said goodbye. Somehow he knew that she would be back and he had been waiting for her return. But he wasn’t ready to see her now.

He belched as he stepped out of the car, suddenly afraid that he would vomit again. The nausea whirled inside his head and through his nose and he burped again, but he didn’t throw up. He took a mouth full of frigid night air, wet and pregnant with another snow no doubt, and he went into the building.

Maybe she would be asleep. It was after one in the morning.

"Chris!" her voice as soon as he went into the door.

Shit, he thought.

"Tracee," he said softly and she appeared in the room, in flannel nightclothes, her face brilliant with tears and a smile.

"Chris! I couldn’t stay away! I’m so sorry I said what I did I didn’t mean any of it I hope you’re not too..." her smile disappeared when she looked at him. "Chris, what’s wrong? What’s happened."

"I had to do it," Chris said.

"Do what?" Tracee asked with a small crease appearing in the skin between her eyebrows. Chris couldn’t answer her. He could only stand and look at her.

"Chris..." she said again and she went to him, unzipping his jacket. "My God you’re soaking wet! It’s freezing outside Chris you’ll get pneumonia!"

"Yeah," he said.

He stood there as Tracee peeled off his jacket and then he realized that he was trembling, his teeth were chattering.

"You’re freezing to death!" Tracee exclaimed and she grabbed him by the hand and dragged him to the bathroom. "What did you fall in a lake?"

Chris didn’t answer her and Tracee sighed leaning forward and sniffing at his mouth. "Are you drunk?" she said in a low voice.

"No," he said, "I wish I were."

Tracee frowned and turned on the hot water in the bathtub. "Take off your clothes, we need to get you warm. Were you out with guys and..."

Chris pulled off his shirt and dropped it on the floor and when Tracee looked at him she screamed. "OH MY GOD!"

Chris frowned. "What?"

"What happened!" she cried and she grabbed his hands and pulled his arms straight. Chris looked at his arms and saw the long scratches slicing up them. "And here!"

Her fingers went to the sharp painful spot at his throat. Chris stepped away from her and looked at himself in the mirror. He saw the wound there and there was a fresh trickle of blood coming from it.

"I had to do it," Chris said again feeling numb.

"Do what for God’s sake!" Tracee screamed. "Don’t leave me in the dark Chris!"

"I was at Penney’s house," Chris said calmly and he took off the rest of his clothes. "His neighbor..."

Chris sighed and he lowered himself into the tub, letting the hot water rise around his body while Tracee sat on the toilet next to it. Her pretty hands were clasped on her lap and Chris reached over and grabbed one, holding it gently in his hand. Her fingers trailed up the scratches on his arm with such a slow, tender movement. All Chris could think was that this was a woman, a real woman. She was a woman they way it should be. She was someone to cherish. He kissed her hand and he could feel her free fingers muss through his hair.

"You don’t have to talk about it I guess," she said. "Not until you’re ready."

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, feeling his body warm up.

"It’s nothing really," he said. "Steve’s neighbor had a cat, it had this tumor or some shit like that growing out of its neck. It was real sad."

"Oh," Tracee said.

"Yeah," Chris continued. "He was just letting it live like that and he couldn’t bring himself to take it to the vet. So I said I’d do it."

"Do it?" Tracee said in an uncertain voice.

"He had a rain barrel, shit Trace the thing couldn’t even close its mouth, it was drooling, I had to do something."

"Oh no!" she said in a gasp.

"Yeah," he said. "I thought it would be easy to just dunk it and drown it and that would be it. I mean it wasn’t even walking straight I thought it was a matter of days."

"But it wasn’t?" Tracee said in her soft voice and she shut off the water.

"No," he said. "As soon as I dunked it in it sliced me up and when I pulled back, it jumped out and bit me, went running."

He felt her lips on his cheek. "I’m sorry," she said.

Yes, Chris thought, this was how a woman should be.

Present Day

Chris’ wrist was itching and burning. Six stitches were actually required for the bite. Pretty little creature, nasty little bite.

Don’t you dare touch him!

Already he could see a new cycle taking eerie shape, threatening to swallow the people who dare enter its rotation like the one previous. They were a storm swirling and sucking, inhaling the innocent. A baby tigress protecting her mate.

Chris watched the repeated replays on ESPN, and all of the other sports channels. He couldn’t bring himself to stop. The look on the girl’s face, the zoomed camera on her pearly little teeth. How could it be happening again? Why would he have to witness it? Why was it important?

He looked at the bracelet twinkling in his palm.

"What are we gonna do with you now?" he whispered. "What are we gonna do?"

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