06-16-2014, 04:36 PM
Continued from Taking Out the Trash
Connor walked up the metro-stairs to the street level. It was maybe 4 in the morning and very cold. He was still buzzed from his drink. Head felt packed with cotton or something. Maybe it was the drink. Some of it. But it felt like everything that had happened tonight had all merged together into some hazy dream, bits and pieces he could snatch at, but who's whole story was elusive. Pounding on the man's face. Laughing at the bar. Walking up the stairs to the terrible 3rd floor. Floating away from life and then falling, mind slamming against the ground. Ayden sitting in his lap, head against his chest, steadily breathing. Warmth. Safe. He ached for that this moment, he needed something to hold on to, against the strange memories that kept flowing over him.
The ding of the elevator door made him focus. He hadn't realized he was standing in the elevator on his floor. He'd didn't remember walking to his building or going in or pressing the floor button. The door started to close and he put his hand out to catch it. He saw the blood there. But there was no pain. That man's skull had been hard. A flash of memory. A dull ache in his knuckles and forearms getting sharper. It washed away in the haze. The door dinged again and tried to close. He focused and walked out, down the hall. After being outside, it was stiflingly hot in the lobby, the distant sound and feel of fans pumping warm are muffling the sound. His ears seemed to close up, as if he were submerged in water.
He stopped at Ayden's door. Would she be there? Would she be in his room still? He listened through the cotton in his head. He couldn't hear anything. He took a deep breath. He felt tired- tired in his soul. He'd killed a man tonight. He still felt it was justified, but....a man was a alive. And now he was dead. He had ended a human life, in rage. He didn't feel guilty. He didn't feel anything. That should have concerned him. He should feel something for having crossed a moral line like that. But he felt numb.
He walked to his door and quietly let himself in, in case Ayden was still asleep. He saw the blanket lying on the couch. He let the door close on its own and went to the bed. No sign of her. Her clothes were gone too. She must have been asleep in her apartment. He wanted her. But not like this.
A shower. He went into his room and pulled off his jacket and shoes, his shirt and pants. He just stood their in his room naked, feeling the air's stillness. He looked at himself in the mirror. 46 years old, he thought. He saw the tired lines on his face, the charred markings on his skin. The rough hewn body that he spent time making sure aged as well as it could. And now? What are you? he wondered. His mind was just numb, unfeeling. He stood there. Work tomorrow. No. I'm calling in. He went to the bathroom and turned on the shower, let the bathroom begin to fog up, felt he warm damp air permeate the room, covering him with a sheen of microscopic dew that made the slightest air movement cool.
He walked back into the bedroom to get a towel when he heard a knock at the door. He walked to the door and looked out the peephole. Ayden. Something inside him breathed and he unlocked the door.
Edited by Connor Kent, Jun 20 2014, 08:35 AM.
Connor walked up the metro-stairs to the street level. It was maybe 4 in the morning and very cold. He was still buzzed from his drink. Head felt packed with cotton or something. Maybe it was the drink. Some of it. But it felt like everything that had happened tonight had all merged together into some hazy dream, bits and pieces he could snatch at, but who's whole story was elusive. Pounding on the man's face. Laughing at the bar. Walking up the stairs to the terrible 3rd floor. Floating away from life and then falling, mind slamming against the ground. Ayden sitting in his lap, head against his chest, steadily breathing. Warmth. Safe. He ached for that this moment, he needed something to hold on to, against the strange memories that kept flowing over him.
The ding of the elevator door made him focus. He hadn't realized he was standing in the elevator on his floor. He'd didn't remember walking to his building or going in or pressing the floor button. The door started to close and he put his hand out to catch it. He saw the blood there. But there was no pain. That man's skull had been hard. A flash of memory. A dull ache in his knuckles and forearms getting sharper. It washed away in the haze. The door dinged again and tried to close. He focused and walked out, down the hall. After being outside, it was stiflingly hot in the lobby, the distant sound and feel of fans pumping warm are muffling the sound. His ears seemed to close up, as if he were submerged in water.
He stopped at Ayden's door. Would she be there? Would she be in his room still? He listened through the cotton in his head. He couldn't hear anything. He took a deep breath. He felt tired- tired in his soul. He'd killed a man tonight. He still felt it was justified, but....a man was a alive. And now he was dead. He had ended a human life, in rage. He didn't feel guilty. He didn't feel anything. That should have concerned him. He should feel something for having crossed a moral line like that. But he felt numb.
He walked to his door and quietly let himself in, in case Ayden was still asleep. He saw the blanket lying on the couch. He let the door close on its own and went to the bed. No sign of her. Her clothes were gone too. She must have been asleep in her apartment. He wanted her. But not like this.
A shower. He went into his room and pulled off his jacket and shoes, his shirt and pants. He just stood their in his room naked, feeling the air's stillness. He looked at himself in the mirror. 46 years old, he thought. He saw the tired lines on his face, the charred markings on his skin. The rough hewn body that he spent time making sure aged as well as it could. And now? What are you? he wondered. His mind was just numb, unfeeling. He stood there. Work tomorrow. No. I'm calling in. He went to the bathroom and turned on the shower, let the bathroom begin to fog up, felt he warm damp air permeate the room, covering him with a sheen of microscopic dew that made the slightest air movement cool.
He walked back into the bedroom to get a towel when he heard a knock at the door. He walked to the door and looked out the peephole. Ayden. Something inside him breathed and he unlocked the door.
Edited by Connor Kent, Jun 20 2014, 08:35 AM.