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All created stories have to follow . We do not allow any sexually related material. The Doll Palace will be enforcing this rule and completely blocking access to the accounts that disregard our policy and create sexually oriented stories.
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Hi, my name is Ox Heart
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 5 with 2 vote(s)
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| Created: 2009-04-08 15:24:06 |
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The house had been surrounded by so many trees. They were covered in snow.
There had been no guards outside, but what I did know was the threat of guards on upper levels, who potentially could jeopardise my freedom and my life. The objective had been to get out of here just as soon as it was probable. First, I had to think for where I was. I was stood in the middle of nowhere. I had money on me, just for train fees. They would have done anything, just to get me away from here and from them. I was a missing man.
Instantly, I recognised those trees. It was from the time I’d gone to Petra Alley to meet up with Steven Gates, near Cavan Street. This was that place… I recalled it all now. I recalled my own thoughts.
“Through there, there was a back street and then a little alley, Petra Alley, which ran between the other places and then took me to a whole new place. But I would not venture there, not today, no. It was somewhere that I never went. It was full of trees. It didn’t look like somewhere I would go, so I just didn’t think about it.”
That was what I had thought, and plus Angela Miles had said that we were still in the town. He had met up with me… that Steven Gates, just right beside the place I had been held captive. Now that was crafty. I had been so foolish. I took one last look at the house, and thought, I might be back. Just maybe I’d be back. And on the thought I ran and raced, searching frantically through all of the branches just to find my way out. I could have been so glad to be out. I could have breathed in midnight air and filled my lungs, and stared into the stars with gratefulness for life that was preserved, but no, it was the last thing on my mind. I had burdens on my mind. I had duties to be done, and there was only one man who had placed me in that position, and that was me. I had to put this right. I had to sort it out.
And then finally, I came out. I stood at the end of the alley, and I looked about myself. Adam had thought that he’d never find James Alexander, but I was not leaving this town. I walked half way down, and then I stopped. I saw all pictures of him flashing in my mind, his wrinkled skin, and his blackened eyes.
My trainers crunched in the sleet. There was no sound of people, or of traffic. I could not feel the cold. However weak I was it did not fail me, for I started to sprint once again, through the darkness and the thinness of the alley. I broke out onto the street, my feet hitting the ground after one another other with each slam onto the sloppiness of ground. There had been no time to be tired and lame; it was adrenaline, taking over now, and reining me over.
It was like a last lease of life before death.
And then I thought about the bricks that I had brushed my hands along. The first time I had done that I had thought about the people there behind them, and about how my palm could be less than a meter away from somebody’s back. How right had I been at that moment? It was important that nobody was to hear me around, and even more importantly, nobody was to see me. There was life; rasping, respiring organisms all around myself, just waiting, and preying on their senses that equipped them all. I was closer than I thought to people.
I remembered the note Alexander had given me too; the small, flowery note with hand writing on it. There was the address of Tina Glass. He had hidden his name behind that of his “wife’s” for years on end.
I was running the streets that I knew, but now had felt so strange and odd and… alien to me. I should have been dead, but I wasn’t; I was alive, and I was working like the robot that I should be. I had no right to life; the right to fight had been all that had remained. Before I’d known I was there, on his street, and I was looking down the road. It would have been ironic if I had found him dead already, but then I knew it was unlikely. If I had, it would have been misfortune, for then I would have had nothing to do. I had to have this done as soon as possible. I felt it was important I came back as soon as I could, but it had been against the odds.
All I could do now was trying. All I could do now… was trying.
And then I saw, that from the house came Tina Glass. She was a smallish, hunched sort of woman in a floral skirt and cardigan, but in her hand, I saw a bag. It was a big, travel bag, and it looked now to be packed. I must have looked peculiar, down the edge of the pavement, a hood pulled over my head that concealed my face. She cast a worried, fleeting glance in my direction. She had all means to be. I had never contemplated her own presence, but then, had she been there then I would have hurt her too. Adam Alexander had been right about things. It was best, and I knew that it was, to take this into my hands. I could have called police on him, but I in addition had been a criminal. And it too would have been ironic if he had been locked away, because it also would have halted me. I needed him here, right now, or regardless there would be no way of stopping Adam.
I watched her walk away, and she didn’t look twice, which had been fortunate, otherwise, she may have recognised me. I had, after all, been in the paper for the first time in my life.
It was then that I advanced up the paving stones, and took note of his car. I could take it, perhaps, but not yet. I limped up to his door, at which point I had realised my breathlessness. I had been a long way and in state of such vulnerability. But again, there was no time for vulnerability. After all, I had eaten. I had washed. And then I knocked on the door, and I waited. It had taken a few minutes, and then he was there.
He was there.
He was stood in his denim, with his usual look, with his eyes without shine and his handsome white teeth. And as soon as he was there, I had swept down my hood. I saw his eyelids gape; I saw his mouth draw wide. I saw his whole face stretch with feeling I had never witnessed from the man for all the days that I had known him. He almost stumbled and fell at the sight of a ghost. I must have looked ill, and pale and pinched. I wasn’t how he had known me; all the way through I was never how he’d known me. In an instant he had grabbed onto my shoulder and had hauled me through the door frame, and it had been a haul because I had been so much lighter than I used to be. He had slammed the door behind me like a crypt and then he pushed me round to face him. All of a sudden, all over again, I felt confined.
“Tommy Pike!” He exclaimed, in a mournful disbelief. I saw him now grow much straighter, much more serious that I had seen him before. In his eyes I saw caring and compassion. It was too late. It was so, so late for him now. “Oh my God… where did you go?” He cried. “Where’s Gates? What happened?” And now I endured something that had never altered him. He had snatched both of my shoulders now, and shaking me aggressively he shoved me at the stairs. There was an unreadable mix of a wrath and a love on his face, and somewhere in my heart I felt clemency. He had always been confused. He had always been… impulsive. He had not known what to think.
“You deserted me” He gabbled, spitting out his words. “Where did you go? Please speak to me…”
He really had known nothing of this. But I still could not feel whole heartedly sorry for him, for there was something that he did know and that he did understand, and that had been his brother, Adam. I must not forget Adam’s story. This was a man’s game. While I was with him on this, it was important that I tried to forget my own hatred of that man. And at that I had opened my mouth and climbing up off the stairs I had showed him inside. It was likely I had carpet burns from James’s push, but I would not have felt it because I was so numb now. Once upon a time I had had feeling, and he could hurt me, but no, not anymore. He had made me into this.
It did not hurt me when he asked me to speak to him, either. I had come to accept all that now.
And then he peered in my mouth. I saw his shock happen all over again.
The likelihood was, when I was gone, that he had not informed anybody that he had known where I might have vanished. No one else would have known I had been with Steven Gates. And his view had been erroneous, because he had made a rather gullible assumption that accompanied by Gates I had gotten into trouble, when in fact it had been Gates who had caused all my predicaments. He had obviously been somewhat ignorant of the rivalry between me and that Gates, where as a spark he had emerged, and from that spark had come on a fire. And now I looked at all the words I had been using to describe him. There was “ignorant”, “impulsive”, “gullible” and “confused.” Before he was intelligent, an intellectual who had excelled all others, but that was just how stupid I had been. He was no intellect. Someone with intellect could see value in somebody else’s well being, but not him, no, not him, for he was stupid, stupid, stupid. I couldn’t think of a bigger lunatic or an idiot, all that besides Gerald Sydney, Aaron Brand… all of them.
He backed off from me, shaking his head, closing his eyes. I could see he was concerned for me, but I had not to let that stop me. I wasn’t soft and mouldable anymore. Maybe he really did care about me. After all, at one time I had been like a son to this man, and now my intentions had been so malicious… it was good, if anything, that he had never had a son. He would have hated him. He didn’t think. He didn’t know the meaning of the word responsibility. I was glad I’d been an imbecile, because now, and only now, I could have intervened.
He walked out of the room and when I made attempts to follow him he turned back round.
“Stay there” he told me softly, and with a harsh glare I had shaken my head too. He was beginning to frown in disbelief, and when his eyes met mine, well then there couldn’t have been faster rising fear. He had never known me like this, and I had never known him like that. I could have jeered, laughed at him. Fear. I repeated his words critically in my head. “What happened? Where did you go? Speak to me.” If he hadn’t been a sinner he’d have found me, and I wouldn’t have been stood here now, no flesh left on my bones and no tongue left in my mouth. It had been his loss too. I had been at his feet. Why didn’t he look after me? He had just let me go and find that bxstard at the alley when he should have known he’d disliked me very much. He was dangerous man, was that Steven Gates. And this was what happened when you surrounded yourself by dangerous people, enveloped yourself in them, and bowed down to them to keep you safe and prayed they would never turn on you. Pressure had never been the best of things, because some day, at some time, somebody will stand up to you.
He bit onto his lip so nervously that it had seemed nearly comic. Ah, so his brother had been just a league above him. He was scared of the loss of my tongue. Wherever I’d been had been more than he had ever, or could ever have endured. I had come out more knowing, and more knowing in this world could have only meant more callous when the malice was exposed.
“Do you hate me?” He had asked me.
I just kept glowering at him. No nod of the head could have expressed how much I hated him. There had been no use in the asking. Again he had attempted to retreat, and I had followed him, and then he stopped again.
“What is it?” He inquired with a crackle in his voice. And the gawping that he gave me could have told me I was mad. He was beginning to doubt my own sanity, as I had done at one time, but I had known I was sane. People always saw the ones that couldn’t, or that didn’t speak as being not a human, but they were. I had only felt, never been in lunacy as they had thought of me back there, and they had, they had wanted to let me die in that room. But oh no… sweet Bullfrog, would not have had it. I remembered when I gave her that odd name inside my head. I had not known her name at that point, but I had thought of what she looked like and had named her then myself. She had put me in the lime light once again. She had taken that dauntless leap for me. She had made it so I did not die, not yet; so I would find a way to help this mess, at least to change it and to make it mine.
I had forgiven her already for putting me in their hands. She was distressed. She would have done it either way. She had not meant it; no, not now, she would regret doing that now.
And everything, yes, just everything, yes it had happened for a reason.
“Shall I…” Alexander started, his spine pressed against the frame. And then I thought about his brother’s spine. His brother did not need a door frame to keep his own spine straight, but it had been too straight. He was no better man, in many ways. And seemingly so, he had been mentally distressed so many times that he could have almost not been blamed. In fact… could one have said that he was sane? Certainly, not entirely could you have argued he was sane. There had had to be something amiss, whether it had been driven out of him, or whether it had never been there on the day of his birth. I imagined his own Mother, carrying him, in her stomach. It must have been Hxll for a woman to have birthed such a son, but I knew now it was likely she’d been long, long gone, and both her sons had been such enemies to the greatest of the foes that one would ever know. To get caught up in this had been both blessing and a curse.
“Shall I get you some paper?” He had finally finished his own sentence. I could see no aggression left in him. His last push, yes it had been the last. I took another step towards him, and somehow it had aggravated me that he had asked so many questions, for there only had been one way I could answer him. I had accustomed to the fact that I could no longer speak, yes I had, but it was the fact that he did not respect that, that he asked all the dumbest of questions, and I could see it in his eyes, that old childish, selfishness, where he was so thankful to the Lord I was not him, that I was me and I was mutilated and oh! Take him away from me, take him away; I’d never want to have that fate!
He was so horrible and heartless, and I knew that. It was on that thought I’d lunged at him.
* * *
Five hours later he was laid inside my arms.
I held him close, my breathing deep and bleating. I felt my skin soak through my clothes with perspiration. I felt the thickness of his ribcage in my elbows with his face laid close to mine. I gazed deep into his pretty eyes. He was so near; it was so warm. I leaned in, and I pressed my lips onto his. I clasped his neck and pulled him up, dragging his wobbling head forward so that his tongue fell in my mouth.
I had a tongue, in my mouth, and I had spoken through this man. I tasted blood where it was cut.
And then I dropped him, and he fell, lifelessly onto the blood stained carpet. If I survived until the morning time I would be covered in a bruising and the blood from head to foot, and in the long run I would be coated in the scars, but for now, I knew it had not been so bad. He had not cut me much. I knew I’d make it back. In the main his head was beaten. It was smashed and crushed, his skull there at the back. It was such a shame. He used to be an attractive man, but no, no more. I remembered, he’d asked me if I loved him, and I had said yes. He had been beautiful back then, and ignorance was bliss and I adored him more than anybody in the whole wide world.
But now I stared at him, and it was hard to remember that such a time had ever been. I looked at him and I felt nothing, as his love and care was unreturned. I’d never thought I’d have to battle someone to the death, particularly not my beloved James. But there he was, dead, on the floor. It could have just as easily been me, but see… he had had his own life there to defend. I had had my own life, but I had also had Angela’s life, her child’s life… my child’s life. Alexander would have never known such a thing.
I was a rapist once for James Alexander, but I was a murderer twice for my own special doings.
All I knew was one man had just changed my whole life, and it was Adam Alexander who had helped me cross that line. There had been Cheryl Cram, and after that I had known how to kill, and for good reason. Cheryl… she had deserved a life. But to get me to the here and now I had had to kill that girl. She had helped to attempt to save the other’s lives, and for that I would always have been grateful, grateful till my dying day, dying hour, dying second, she would give her life for me, and that she’d lived it until then. I would never, never have gotten this far had it not been for her. Perhaps, I would never have contemplated the killing. And I had myself the rescued several times, and now, I thought, I ought to pay it back. |
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