Two years.
Two worlds apart.
Second the chance.
He wasn't returning to just play, this time around he was there to stay.
And she could do nothing, but let him have his way.
•••Sequel to Toxic Innocence•••
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The mug of coffee lets out a crowded steam as I pour the thick cream upon. I only stop when the content reaches the rim, threatening to overflow. Brewing a drink at a Strangers home was one thing. But staining their kitchen was a principle I am against of especially when the said one wasn't even aware of a pragmatist in his house.
I maneuver to scale the heat of my drink by cupping the ceramic- but the thick leather glove I wore only repelled the contact. I brought the cup to my lips- hissing with a cringe at how torrid it was. In easy words- hot. It was hot. Surveying the house I disgust my humor with the Un kept dirty belongings I come across. That also includes an aged portrait of a dam in what I believe was a tourist sight in Vancouver.
It was a pretty eccentric image of a teenage boy hanging by the edge of the brige enthusiastic about his lunacy.
Sipping, I concluded that the sole good aspect as of then under the roof was my coffee. And me. The barren fire place, the dusty rug, moldy water infested walls and of course the person living in that beneath-the unity of it- despicable.
Then I picked the baseball bat that lay on the couch and examined, the peels and cracks layered it, it sure must have been under the gaming pressure- or of a great help during the abuse of his Ex- girlfriends.
Also the Ex- girlfriend who under the harassment tackled those hardships with the foster money accounted to pay those debt to him.
Their story must've began parallel to mine. But was it still so far away though? Apparently. Not.
So an hour later when the door chunks open. Fred Maskey with his tattooed glory steps in- tall ,muscular, bearded and clad in boxer pants he steps in. So when he spots an intruder-me, his first reaction was to-
"Who the fuck are you?"
-curse.
Damn that angry howl. I try to lure my charm with that aesthetic smile of mine.
"Well, it's good to see you too Fred" I sat with my legs crossed by the couch. "I don't think we have met before"
He launches forward, striding animastically towards me.
"How did you get in?" he rumbles "Who cares, you would wish that you shouldn't have trespassed my property" grabbing my collar he easily molds my status from sitting to standing.
An alien thrill dictates me to carry on the roleplay. But the vice of my adrenaline gets the best of me as the acoustic smirk ignites itself upon my feature.
"So what are you going to do? Beat me up like you hit your girls?"
His gaze crinkled, the sensibility one believes for a human to differentiate the evil from other, wears out as he lands a punch to my face. Though my whole body falls to side upon the dirty floor- I still considered it to be the weakest I had anticipated from a mountain as him.
Spitting out mouthful of blood I chuckled turning to look at him. "That tickled man, you think of it as a punch?"
The perfects strings to pull. He contorts to a full fledged maniac.
"Whoever you are- you are a dead man" the kick to my rib sends me to left, then again- once more even though I didn't even fought back he kept going, I groaned- hissing a soft laugh finally when he was tired. I push my hair back from my forehead, balancing my anterior weight with my elbow I stared at him. His frown dips as my playfulness gives a way to tense nonchalance. A face close to a devils detest, I know of it because I was as optical to what the myth portrayed.
I may have those unguarded vehemence of mine in restraint. My language washed and those rage filtered. But not when it came to her-
"Why did you stop Fred?" the dept my tone modified to only went downhill, my gaze fires up as I recalled the night, the night I saw Althea with those bruise covering her body. "You don't plan to use the bat that you hit other girls with, coward now aren't you- scumbag" I spat.
Pressing the required button irks him the way I had planned him to-
Nodding with vengeance he retorts-
"I'll show you what it feels like then"
With that I wait as he walks to where the bat lay- lonely upon the kitchen isle- when he picks it up I close my eyes in serenity- it's the instant his scream echoes the living room, increasing by seconds- more painful than any mediocre torture could bestowe.
I watch him as he clutched his wrist with the other hand- crying out as he tries to make sense of his burning palm. He falls to the ground trembling on his knees as he watched me when I got on my feet- his wails slowed down in fear as I brought my index to my lips. Motioning him to quit his blabber.
To just shut up.
"What did you do to me?" he sobs grunting, paralyzed now to his neck as I crouch next to him, pulling out a hanky from my pocket to dab at the corner of my lips. Specks of blood seeps through the cotton cloth, absorbing the bloody details of how I let myself be punched. Then I decided to let the sufferer know of his suffering.
"Urushiol –the element from poison ivy that causes the hypersensitivity, if touched bare it causes an allergic reaction which equivalents to the sensation of third degree burns- as frightening as the sting of a bullet ant" i wave my leather gloved hand at him to project my thoughts "I improvised the component with my own, with reactors that leaves a person paralyzed for couple of hours on run so you could have a little demo, a taste of what you might end up as if you won't withdraw the case"
In boredom I wait patiently for his reply- when only his eyes ran wild on me did I realize-
"Can't speak?"
He couldn't.
"Then hear me out- Althea Davies, the name? The girl who saved the foster kid from your Ex- Girlfriends home. Remember now?" low, the range and rage tugged my vocals so in ground that I couldn't recognize my own voice when heard "do you repent your actions that night?"
Silence.
"Do. You?"
He nods tardily, his consciousness slanting. I exhale in peace.
"It's crazy, your survival on this day after what you did" removing my gloves I straighten up, my feet stretching inside the shoes. I let my gauntlet fall to the floor walking over, then gazed down at him in cold disbelief "If this had happened a couple years ago, I would've killed you. Without a thought, you would've died"
His jaws ticked as he begged me through his gaze, dismissive to his plead I press my lips together.
"I won't do it. I've come too far and changed too much. You could too" walking over him I speak through my shoulders to take in his misery one last selfish time "- for now, I'll let you experience what fear feels like"
He passed out after my confession. He won't perceive the tribe of development in me that had saved his life today. I had learnt to forgive- but not to forget. This is a part of me that I wasn't able to butcher off- and I was proud of it too.
To be sane and yet not a saint is the humane obverse none could cut ties with.
When I got out of that house I craned at the sky- the stars shone opaquely bright tonight, but this tonight I wasn't occupied with the passion to discover what lied beyond.
Not since my prospect of universe became something else. Or rather someone.
