BlindMature

Rob closed up the Illicit as soon as well left. We assisted him with stacking up all the barstools, even though the weight of the obsessive drinking made it rather difficult for us to maneuver. With our sincere apologies of our behavior, we walked up the empty streets of Regois to our forms of transport, lead by the dim glow of the street lights.

I however, had no form. Only the late night train could bring me home. Also due to our states meant driving was a no go, we may have been drunk out of our minds, but our common sense was still constant. We said our fair wells, very aware of our stumbling steps, and headed in our separate directions. Bernice and Jonathan called a taxi down maple drive, both living in a shared apartment midtown. Zack had made his way ahead without a word, so it was just me and I, walking up the still slippery wet tar seal road, heading towards Athena Avenue, where the train station resides. It would be a short five minute walk up the road, with necessary short cuts that even in my state I still could remember, and so I gladly took advantage of.

It was unusually quiet this early morning: barley any noise from far away traffic reached my ears, and the sound of the still open clubs was absent. Illicit pub wasn’t in the main area of town, quite close to the Regois River in fact, so this made the silence make a bit more sense. Besides the crunching of gravel under my feet, There was once noise, though usually irritating, was the continuous hum of the street lights, struggling to keep functioning.

I slipped my chilling hands in my jacket pockets as I noticed the slight change in temperature. It seemed that the previous breeze hours before began to show its face once more. Unbeknownst to me, my head began to sway as I walked, and my headache, soon to be migraine getting worse.

As the continuous walk began to bore me, couldn’t help but notice the rhythm of my heart beat, thumping every second, gradually getting faster, and the sound of my lungs heaving for air.

My muscles were feeling rather tender in my condition, warm and loose. With every step that I took, my head began to throb with blood rushing to my brain; each throb getting worse with the strength of a punch to the face. I would have though I was smacking head first into a brick wall if my eyes weren’t open.

A shiver went down my spine as I began to ponder.

What I was experiencing.

‘This doesn’t feel right…’

Through common knowledge, drinking substantial amounts of alcohol would make one feel drowsy, dizzy and limp, but something about this was wrong, I could literally feel it.

Suddenly, I hear a noise.

An unfamiliar exhale of breath.

I snap my head around to the culprit, even though it took the wind out of me, making me dizzy.

I freeze as my eyes lay on him.
My eyes squeeze in disbelief, squinting as I try to gain my focus.

They widen in confusion.

“Zack?”

I knew it was him. Even through the dim light, I recognize his clothes, his dirty blonde hair, and his silhouette in the moons glow.

But his scent is different.

His scent of lemon barley that I recognized so well was distant.

A foreign smell eventually reaches my nostrils, and its odor makes my nose wrinkle in dislike. I catch the whiff of the gut wrenching foul breath of beer and vodka. But there was a hint of something else, something similar to ash.

His feet are struggling to keep his intoxicated form up right. With no attempts to hide it, his body sways back and forth, and with a few bucks of  his upper body, he lunges forward, the weight of his fluid filled head proving too much as the acidic vomit pours from his throat onto the cracked pavement. With his final heave, he arcs his back straight again. He coughs sickly, wiping away the remnants of bile on the sleeve of his jacket.

I couldn’t see his eyes in the dark, those deep pools of ocean blue that I remember, but I can feel them looking me over.

He staggers his body, dragging his feet along the pavement, walking under a breaking street light, and it confirms my identification. With the assistance of the light, I concentrate harder and notice something peculiar.

His eyes are a steel grey.

“Z…Zack…uh, what...What’s going on..?” I struggle to say through my weakening breath.

I swallow hard as he staggers over to me, and his eyes become clearer in my sight. He’s as drunk as a deranged ogre, but he seems to be sober enough to know what he wants. And how easy it is to get it.

My eyes widen as realization washes over me.

No…Zack… my Zack would never… surely...

 Sweat from both exhaustion and fear trickle down my brow. I manage to say one word before his hands hover over the clothing of my body.

“The Heineken…”

Before I have a moment of retaliation of any use, his ape like hands grasp tightly to my shoulders, and his head dips to caress his lips on the open skin of my chest. My mouth agape in horror, my fatigued body tries to push his freezing cold mouth off of me.

His roaming fingers grasp on the rim of my tank top. I’m struggling, using my weak coiled fingers to push away his manic smile.

His hot alcoholic breath falls down my valley, sending a chill down my spine. His fingers start exploring my denims, trying franticly to find my zip and buckle. He’s grunting words from a drunken language that I cannot translate, and even if I could, the loud hum of the street lights is piercing my ears like a shriek of a banshee.

I’m still overpowered at his stench and his surprising strength. Even though I was certain that he consumed more spirits than I did, he still has power over my weakening state.

Despite my efforts, his hand snakes its way down my jeans, and I gasp as he makes contact with skin. His fingernails rake pink lines up and down my thigh. His other hand is ripping at the seams of the rim of my bra.

With the weight of Zack’s power proving too great, my knees give way, and my body falls. I wince at the numbing feeling of my body thudding on the wet pavement. And my head throbs with the force of the same brick wall.

This is not Zack. It couldn’t be. I wouldn’t believe it.

There is no colour in his face, none at all. His eyes are so distant

As he kneels beside my body, I hear the metal of a zipper coming undone. Weather it was my own or his, it made no difference.

My pain was coming soon. I knew it wouldn’t be the act of his release itself that would hurt me the most, but the pain of disappointment and betrayal of a friend.

Or who once was.

I close my eyes, tears spilling without halt. No, I refuse to believe it. Whether it be denial or not, I would not let my last memories of my friend be filled with this image of him. I would never open my eyes again if it means I can keep the memory of my best friend.

I cannot bear to look into the eyes of this stranger.

Suddenly, the noise of sharp metal cutting paper fills my ears.

“Achhhh….’

My eyes flash open and notice Zack has frozen, his body shaking in a light spasm, the look of agony is dressed on his face as he gags.

To my confusion, a blade of almost neon light reveals itself from his back till it ripped through the skin and shirt of his left shoulder, cracking as it scraps past muscle and bone.

His fingers are coiling in and out as the blade travels further through his flesh, penetrating through the other side till it reached out a foot in length.

Only then did it stop, and Zack’s squirming along with it.

As the blade stopped traveling, Zack’s eyes in my fright have returned to its natural blue. As quick as it had came, the blade retracts from his flesh, leaving no trace but a trail of steam escaping from the wound.

The Iris in each eye is but small specks of black, rolling back till his body collapsed backwards.

My eyes losses all coloration, my eye lids losing its strength as they fall, and the world of Regois is shrinking, forming into a fading tunnel around me zoning into black and white. I only catch a glimpse of pure darkness, with the familiar gleam of the clean white blade and two white glowing orbs staring into me as my body losses its grip on consciousness….

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

A/N: I can honestly say that i cried when reading this. Though i cannot say i have had personal experience with rape, but i was still touched when i finished the chapter. please tell me what you think. am i being fickle? do i miss the picture complely? or am i just being insensitive? dont be afraid to tell me off. and may i just say that this is only the beginning. thanks again -Daisy.

The End

8 comments about this story Feed