Mallory's Melody

Chapter 29

There wasn't a torment as unbearable as that which one's conscience inflicted. Jason was more proof than there ever was. For many nights, he'd lain in his bed, bidding sleep to come but finding none of it, as the echoes in the dark hollows of his heart were too boisterous to warrant repose, the growl of the monster in his soul, too burdensome to ignore, and how does one, could one, find comfort in a body that was not his?

Because that was how Jason had felt ever since he attacked Eric Rossi and sabotaged Mallory's audition, like someone other than himself, his true self lost to the nefarious person he'd become, a murderer of people and of dreams.

Everything about life was flavourless, dull. He no longer picked up the calls of people who wanted his services, no longer played the guitar nor took a serene walk through the park as he usually did, because he was disinterested in anything other than self-deprecation, in anything different from lying on his bed from dawn to dusk. He had become allies with solitude, friends with self-depreciation, and antipathies with light.

Jason had moments when Mallory's face would take up residence in his mind, innocent as it was, was tainted by pain and destitution, the despondent visage of one who had lost contact with her dreams. And Jason wondered if he'd been possessed to be the killer of those dreams. As for Eric, his blood was still behind Jason's nails, a kind of blood that seemed hesitant to wash away. No matter how much Jason scrubbed the thick crust beneath his nails, it still remained, a stain, it seemed that only he could see, a reflection of his sullied self.

And all for what? The twenty thousand dollars Diana had given him? The stack of cash was hidden somewhere in the corners of his room, bathed in shadows of desolation and neglect. No amount of necessity could convince him to near those wretched dollar notes, not even the fervid desperation to rescue his father before time ran out. His conscience blared red every time he glanced at it, heart sunk in despair with the awareness of how he'd got it, and today, Jason decided that he would return it, something that had sounded foolish even to himself, but if he'd learned anything, it was this.

One's inner peace was the most important thing in life.

"I don't want the money anymore, Diana." Jason had strode into her private room at Starlight. Private rooms were only allocated to special persons, and of course, Diana, being inaugurated as Starlight Star tomorrow was more than a special person, she was a goddess by Starlight terms. The room was exquisite, meticulously arranged with opulent furnitures, stationed at the centre of the room to form a perfect circle, a stand upholding a flower vase at the centre. The floors were sparkling white, a kind of white that was otherworldly, that one could only associate with divinities.

Diana, it seemed, was this divinity. She sat cross-legged on one of the opulent chairs, filing her nails. Atop her head was a towel, wrapped in such a way that made it look as though it were a turban. Jason berated himself for being excited at the sight of her, the hard-fisted, tall Diana, her legs like a rivulet of grace stretched out on the table, her face, the smoothness of a doll's, and Jason still had a firm recollection of the up and downs of her body, the exaggerated curve of her hips. As callous as it seemed, he was still drawn to her.

"I know I'm quite a work of art, Jason, but you're giving me the creeps with how you're staring," Diana said, cynically as usual.

Jason rolled his eyes. "Did you hear me? I said I don't - "

"Oh, I heard you alright," she stopped filing her nails to look at him. "But that doesn't mean I care either, honey. If you don't want the money. Drop it over there. An enormous loss for you."

Jason winced at her indifference. He had expected a response, more, say, humane? He had expected her to rush to embrace him, and subtly prod him to take back the money, as it was the only way to save his father. But she did not care, and this did not surprise Jason one bit. Anyone who had done all Diana had done to get here, had to have at least lost a bit of their humanity.