I accepted the clothes, which the dark haired man held out for me to take, wordlessly. I stared at them for a moment, while disgust spread itself in my body like an unstable feeling of sickness. For a short moment I pondered, if I shouldn't just throw the fabric to the ground and spit at it. A small spark of my former enthusiasm and my willpower, which I buried immediately. What mattered now was money. And to forget.
Lycra stood aloof from me, her face covered by the shadows, which came from the alley's wall. Her head was tilted lightly, her hands entwined her thin body. I thought I saw her shaking her head for a short amount of time - but shrugged it off as imagination immediately after.
"Put it on."
I riveted my vision to the man in front of me again. "Where shall I change?"
The dark haired person gestured around with his hand, pointing to no particular place. I looked at him queryingly.
"Here, over there. Who cares?"
A vague feeling of fury and desperation suffused my thoughts temporary. Have I really fallen this deep? Have I really fallen all the way down from this ladder already? The ladder that symbolizes my life?
I breathed in slowly and then raised my pullover to take it off. From the corner of my eyes I saw Lyrca, who still watched me closely, then gave a jerk and finally turned around. With a bitter smile I also got rid of my pants and sliped on the things given to me. A tight, black shirt and a fitting jeans in the same colour.
How deep did I fall.
A bitter feeling in my stomach. As if you are... but at the same time you are not.
My sense for normality dwindles and the burdensome lot of reality pulls me down into the actual world of insanity.
I can't tell when it all began anymore, can hardly remember the beginning of my end. A faded shadow in my subconsciousness with only vague schemes of blurry pictures falling behind. It all seems like eternity... like years.
But still... it can hardly be more than a few months.
My hands are shaking and I hide them in my trouser pockets swiftly to smother up any traitorous gesture.
Night surrounds my body like a cool haze of mist, but I myself know all too well, that that won't help me a bit.
That it is temporal limited and consequently elusive.
Quiet steps tear me out of my world of thoughts and I raise my head a little bit to see the person's face, to whom I'll sell my last spark of self-esteem.
For a short moment my consciousness bucks against the inescapable fate yet again. Tries to point out, that I could indeed escape my destiny if I would move just now.
But my body is too idle to convert my thoughts into deeds. My spirit is too turbid to focus a single thought and then put it into practice.
Apparently drugs cause wonders in these premises.
A hand is laid heavily upon my shoulder, burns my skin like torrid ferric. I twitch back intuitively, try to elude the false poison, which wants to touch me with dissembling sanctimoniousness.
It doesn't fit. Much too big, much too rough.
His is smaller, more gentle.
I don't understand why I must still think of him after all the time and all the pain. Especially at a time like this one.
Maybe I'm just waiting for a knight in a shining armor, who'll save me in the end after all.
What a fool I am.
Helplessly caught in the dark web of my own dreams as the only way to survive.
The hand is put on my body again, leads a tainted path, which ends at the lower bottom of my shirt to rip it apart with a single hitch.
I'm shivering with the cold air or at least that's what I try to believe.
I breathe in shortly and rivet my attention to the heaven above, pray for redemption, for salvation before I'll fall.
In the very same moment, however, I do already know, that every hope will be in vain.
This sin as the last one I'll commit. Then I'll look for a quiet place and give the money I'm making just right now up for the last high in my life.
Lips seek mine and I turn my head to the side quickly.
Kisses are for lovers. This is just a means to an end. Just a way to pay back my debts.
Seemingly the person interprets my gesture right for he ceases from my face and dedicates his attention to my clothes again.
I close my eyes, when the unknown finds his way to my trousers and opens them after some attempts.
My world stops, moves in a circle, dances with incomprehensible steps, combines nothingness with existence.
Oh God. Oh God. What am I doing?!
I snatch at the hand and try to brush it aside, try to get away. My head feels like it's packed into cotton wool, the only thought remaining is to flee. As fast as possible, as long as I'm still able to do it..
The person encloses my hands with a single one of his own, pushes my wrists against the cool stone of the wall behind me.
My eyes widen in disbelief.
I try to fight the strong grip, try to kick, try to defend, but the times of deprivations have weakened my body and so the only thing left to do is to plead for the rationality of the person next to me.
Okay, so maybe this isn't exactly the most reasonable way, but in any case the best thing that occurs me.
Even in my ears I can already hear the whiff of panic in my voice.
The person laughs and I rivet my attention on his face for the first time. Cold eyes are staring down on me.
My voice breaks, my breath bogs down, when the rough lips press themselves hard against my own. Only for a short moment, only to show me, that he is the one who leads and that I am the one to surrender willingly. That my respect means nothing to him.
Kisses are for lovers...
I want to resist, like in the past.
Want to be like my former self again. An individuum. A human being, or at least close to it.
I want to be me.
And now?! What happens now?!
Desperation and a craved plea in a single word, so short, so small. And still the only thing left for me.
Seemingly the person recognizes my cry for help as for what it is, because he apparently hurries up to finish what he started.
I scream silently, when he distorts my arms a little and presses me face- first against the wall.
My lips move, form soundless word, beg for mercy, beg for death.
And then the wonderful feeling sets in, that shows the situation not from inside but from far away. As if I'm not a part of my body anymore. As if soul and flesh were divided. It feels good, when the soul doesn't need to bear the steady pressure of addiction anymore, when it is free of pain. Better than any drug, better than any high.
I see my own tarnished eyes, see the person behind me, see the tainted game that is to be played. With me.
No, with my body.
I don't want to go back. I don't want to go back to a world, in which I don't belong anymore..
Let me go... and I'll let you go... okay?
Part Twelve |