What lies Unborn

Chapter I: Restless bliss.

Fragments of colors.
Colors like black.
Raven black hair gently flowing in the breeze.
Shards of realities.
Cascading memories that have yet to find their way into existence.
A thousand needles that pierce the loose fabric I call skin.
A self deformed beyond recognition.
A cardboard box.
Tequila.
He moves, he enters the building.
A clock chimes twelve.
A gunshot.
Pain.
The blood runs freely out of me, paints the blond hair to a crimson color.
Tequila.
A blank wall stares intimidating at me.
Pain.
A knife, a scream; I scream.
The pencil moves again, it scratches down things.
Necessity.
Singularities that try to enter our world; one way or another; I’ll give them the other.
Alcohol; runs thickly into my veins; needed.
A blank wall, next to a cardboard; or is this the other way around?
Tequila.
A speeding truck.
A child runs to pick up his ball.
A mother runs to pick up the shattered pieces of her life.
A father cries huddling some child’s clothes.
Tequila.
“Fuck… empty”
Was that my voice? It’s been long since I heard it.
A gun.
A gunshot.
A pause.
Another gunshot.
Fragments of colors.
The color is red.
Blood red.
Pain.
A million pictures more; each one more gruesome than the other.
The cardboard rots away.
A blank wall collapses; newer, better walls start rising.
A company thinks that cement is the only thing that is needed to build a home.
Thousands employees.
He wears a red hat. He smiles. He- I supervise. I return home. My wife is missing.
Tequila. Oh yeah… none left.
I need alcohol.
Lots of it; fast.
My hand trembles as I write.
No time now; no strength; later; after the booze.
Raven black hair runs.
Stained shirt kneels and grabs his chest.
Donuts fall.
Raven black hair looks at a book.
I close a book.
I need booze; I need to see the blank wall.

I feel my strength fading. My weak fingers cannot hold anything anymore; they move as if they have their own will. Something falls; the sound as it crashes to the ground deafens my sensitive ears, a book shouldn’t make such sounds. Colors fly around me as I try to stand up. Reality refuses my rightful place as a human, she starts to dance around me, tries to confuse my footsteps. Yes, she has managed it, I fall. I hit something soft, it is the cardboard … I hope at least that it is the cardboard. Images fade. Gosh I’m pissed. How much alcohol runs in my veins right now? I should have died. I shouldn’t have died. It is toying with me; destiny laughs in my face. But I know I can win right now. My hand rests on a wall, a blank wall if I remember correctly. I’ll follow this to the exit. I’ll follow this to a haven; to a liquor store.

Damn. Why did I have to go out again? Noises, they keep attacking my senses. Hell is loose in my brain. A million pains and tortures participating in a macabre dance; their only goal to have their five minutes of fame in the chaotic stage they have set in my mind. I can’t battle them, I have already lost. But there is serenity in this acceptance of defeat, there is always this fine point between apathy and bliss. I have surrendered myself as their playground, and they let me survive, even if it is only so that they can torment me more. But this is a hell I am familiar with. Each step takes me away from it, each step brings me closer to another violent pit, each step sparks another unimaginable terror in my memory. The old ones are still there; their scars too deep in my psyche to simply subside because I left. But my mind, almost like a bottomless pit, keeps devouring those new vile sensations. Pain, agony, misery, destruction; they keep adding up in the pile. Horrors that no sane human could ever conceive fill me up. I hope that I won’t burst… today. I hope that I can make the trip back and forth. I hope that this small part of my mind that isn’t yet mad will hold. I have to, or everything will fall apart.

But it is hard. The alcohol is starting to dissipate in my veins. The horrors rub their hands in glee as they get ready to enter me again; and those horrors are new. I’m unprepared to face them. I take a step. A lady runs somewhere, she is carrying a bag. An envelope rests in there. She is ignorant of what this envelope will spark; but I know… Another step. I scream. I can’t help it; a red hot iron is poking my eyes out. Someone sticks something in my nails. I don’t know what it is, but it hurts; a lot. I scream again. Burning oil covers the last remaining skin of my body. It passes and I force my worn out body to move forward.

Fresh air. It stinks of life and death. I stink of booze. I think I’m going to vomit. An elder woman looks at me; she looks weird, she smiles. I take a step towards her; and I know; she’ll die; probably by a gunshot; probably in some months. Sorrow fills my heart again, I liked that woman, for a split second I felt comfortable. But the slight images of hopes that she sparked were swiftly crashed by the weight of the world’s injustices. Another step. I’m strong now, nearing my goal, nearing oblivion. I push a door. I enter. I empty my pockets in the counter. The shopkeeper is stunned; I guess he hasn’t seen anyone emptying a bottle of tequila in less than a minute. I buy another one. I leave.

Bliss.

Now if only I could find my way back… and pray. Pray that the new horrors that have entered me are not so strong so as to win over the old ones. I need my old home now. I need my old demons to triumph above the new ones. I need to strengthen the maddening violence I felt there. It was a violence I have won over by surrendering to it; I doubt I can do so again without losing the last bit of my sanity…

The booze is starting to work. My memory starts to fade… I don’t know where I am now. I just know that this is a new place, new images, new pains. I prefer the old ones, I’m used to them. I just know that I must leave this place.

Chapter II: Lifetime opportunity.

“We can finally nail the bastard down” Mark shouted.

Despite his advancing age, the joy and excitement that was painted on his face made him look much younger than what one could expect from a sixty years old man. His grinning was contagious to the rest of the people in the room.

“If our informant is right, there will be another major drug delivery this Saturday. In just three more days, we will have him behind bars.” Mark ended his speech.

The four remaining people in the office looked at each other, three long years of work were about to pay off.

“There will be just a slight change of our usual routine” Mark continued, “We cannot afford to use our surveillance van for this one. Loukas will be alert and will probably spot a van at a place that has less traffic than a country road in the middle of nowhere after midnight. Luckily for us, there is an abandoned complex opposite the warehouse that the transaction will take place, we will hide there. Liz and John, as usual, will be stationed there, Marcus will remain in our normal position to monitor Loukas house, and Christian will be near the complex just in case. We will have the local police in this on our side but they will be ignorant on what exactly we are trying to do. They will just be alert enough to be able to mobilize when the time is right. Now…”

As Mark continued to elaborate on the plan, the four agents let the joy wash over them; now it was time for work. Even a slight mistake could mean their life. As one by one they offered their opinions and views on the battle plan, they realized how risky this operation was. On the other hand, you cannot expect to drop down on a major drug dealer, with a million ties in the mafia, and expect it to be a stroll in the park.

Time was fleeting. Only three days to get ready, a small window of opportunity, and they were just a small team so as to make certain that the mobster wouldn’t have any contact in their group. A strong gust of wind blew Liz’s rich, black hair, blinding her momentarily, as she exited the vast building. She felt the need to reassure herself, an ominous feeling of foreboding was clouding her mind. She looked up in the sky and in the agency’s logo one more time, F.B.I. For some reason, that didn’t lift her spirit as it used to be, as year by year passed, she realized that the glamour that this logo held in her heart, was fading; political games and corrupted officers didn’t make things better either. She understood now, that in just a few more years, her dream will be demolished, and all that would remain from it will be a plain job.

Just after noon, Liz and John were already in the, nearly demolished, complex. Graffiti stained the cracked walls, and even that was faint behind the layers of dirt and filth that seemed to be the motif of the whole neighborhood. Luckily, the infrastructure of the building seemed intact. Even some of the windows and doors remained, although most of them were in a degenerate shape.

From the outside, the chosen room for the job, just across the street from the warehouse, seemed to be the one in the best condition.

“Heh, we have lady luck on our side for this one Liz.” John mused.

His remark was cut short as he pushed the, almost rotten door open. The place reeked of filth, garbage was lying all over the place, and a nauseating smell, like vomit, seemed to emanate from the very walls of the room. It still had its windows, mostly, intact but for some reason no one seemed to have bothered opening them anytime in the past; trapping the stale stink inside the small place.

“Junkies…” Liz muttered with disgust as she tried to stop coughing. “We need to make this place bearable. And we will also need to secure it, so that no one can enter it for those three days.”

Thankfully, the hinges seemed intact. And in just a small time, the rest of the crew came bringing in the equipment. Among the things that lay now in a heap of the room, were some bottles of chlorine, deodorants, and a door. The last three, requests of the surveillance team that no one seemed to object to.

Chapter III: Unwanted visitors.

Loud sounds again, bright light burning my eyelids. I think I’ve have passed away. How much time has passed? As I feel a sharp instrument of pain invading my body, I scream, and I understand; long enough to have started sobering up. Deafening bangs crash in my head; one, two, three… The noises make me want to bury myself in the ground. Like a hammer crashing my mind, they smash and smash with force upon my undefended self; almost like someone has put me inside a ringing bell… That’s it, it is a bell… it stopped at the sixth beat. Does that mean that it is six o’clock? And is there a cathedral with such a massive bell around here? I don’t know… Oh God, I don’t WANT to know. My mind screams to me. How many hours have passed, how sober am I to actually comprehend what goes around me? Thankfully my trusty companion is still in my hand. I drown myself in the bliss of alcohol, and I rise again. I still need to go home.

The easy way. Follow the wall. The more drunk I am, the more the world rocks in its sea. That’s for the better, the alcohol may cause my body to drop to the ground now and then, but at least it keeps my soul from falling to the abyss. An old woman looks at me, she smiles. I think I’ve seen her somewhere before. I shrug, I don’t care. I don’t want to care. If I’ll care I’ll burst. Door; good; safety.

Strange, the door is closed. I’ve left it open. The least I need now is a roommate in this dump. I’ll have to drive him away. First I’ll have to see him of course; first I’ll have to enter. Weird, the door won’t budge. I don’t remember it having a lock. Actually I don’t remember it being a sturdy door at all, this one looks new.

Knock… Knock… Knock…

Why the hell am I knocking in my own house? At least I think it is my own house. I claimed it a year ago…

Raven black hair. Ok. Right. I’m seeing the same things again, that means that I’m in the same place. That’s good. But I’m not supposed to see them, I’m totally drunk. Maybe the booze is wearing off. Raven black hair looks at me funny. Ha! As if she can see me… I’m all alone in my hell…

I sip some more booze, I need her to disappear. Well… it’s not working. I walk over her. Huh? I can’t pass. Her hand stops me. It hurts as she twists it. That can only mean one thing. She is really here. Shit. That’s bad. I have to warn her.

“Look, I don’t know why you’re here, but you really have to go. Like really, really, have to go; like if you stay you’ll probably die. I know you cannot believe me like that, but you have to trust me, leave the couple at the opposite of the building alone, or else they’ll shoot you.” I tell her, yet she stands still, looking confused. What’s wrong?

Another voice behind her. Many voices, I can’t distinguish.

She looks angry for some reason, but I can’t understand what exactly she is talking about. Apart from that being funny that is. I laugh.

“Look, seriously now, if you stay in this room, he’ll find out. You’ll probably die, probably by a headshot.” I have to insist, it’s for the better, I think it is at least.

More voices behind her.

She unhooks a pistol. Someone’s running to get me. Fuck. Not good; if they catch me we will all die. I break free from her, I think that this has caused harm to my shoulder, it’s painful, but at least it’s not death.

I run wild now. Booze might not be the best ally for running, but at least my shoulder doesn’t feel that bad. I’m sure that it will be hurting like hell when I’ll sober up. Note to self, ‘don’t sober up’.

Good thing: I know the back alleys. Bad thing: it seems she knows them too. Crossroads, I’ll go left. If she goes right she will lose me, if she goes left we will all going to die. Funny thing, life that is, something that seems like a trivial choice being the judge of so critical matters.

I pant. I think I’ll throw up, again. If only there was something still inside me to expel. Now the only thing that comes out is blood. Damn liver damage.

An elder woman looks at me. She smiles. At least she wears black; I like that color, goes well with my life. I know her, I think. I faint.

Chapter IV: A saint’s lie

John checked his watch; it was six o’clock. They needed to make haste. “Liz gimme a hand will ya?” he shouted as he was trying to adjust some antennas.

Liz was frustrated that she had demoted herself to cleaning this place while John was readying the equipment; on the other hand she didn’t trust him enough to make this place as clean as she wanted. But what really infuriated her was that he was whining that his job was harder. Suddenly, a knock on the door froze both of them.

“What the heck” Liz muttered, “junkies don’t knock. They find a locked door and they just move to another joint to take their fix…”

A short pause. Liz and John waited patiently for the intruder to leave. Yet, the knocking persisted.

“For Christ’s sake, open up Liz before this one attracts a commotion here.” John finally decided.

With her hand ready to draw her pistol, Liz opened the door.

Her nose was suddenly invaded by filth. A rugged young man was staring weirdly at her. From the way that he moved, it was obvious that he was completely drunk. His rugged brown hair seemed like a solid mass of dirt as they framed almost all of his face; denying Liz the opportunity to study his features. Even if the hair wasn’t on they way, the unkempt beard that reached to his chest would have done the same job. His clothes were a mismatch of grey and brown rags that seemed like that the last time they were washed was when it last rained, and it was summer now…

He raised his hand and took a sip out of a bottle, a move of defiance on his part, Liz thought. But while his hand indicated to her that he thought nothing of her being there, his gaze was fixated upon her, looking her like she was simultaneously the first and last thing he wanted to see. Suddenly he tried to move forward, to enter the house, as if she wasn’t there, as if he could march on, trampling over her. Her body took over; with a quick move she grasped his arm and twisted it almost a half circle, immobilizing him with pain and causing the bottle to fall with a dull sound to the ground. But his face didn’t registered pain, only shock. As he opened his mouth to speak a foul stench engulfed her.

Through his vile breath, a gurgle of sounds came forth, sounds that at some point they could have registered as words, but not as he spoke. Liz tried in vain to understand, but only some random words were audible.

“…Go… Really go… Die... Shoo… Shoo…”

“I think he wants me to leave” Liz mused, “he’s threatening me and then he’s speaking to me like I’m a dog or something… He is clearly pissed. Literally…” She told, over her shoulder, to John.

“Well throw him out and be done with it” He shouted.

“Go. Leave. Don’t come back. You understand me?” Liz shouted to the drunk. The effect was unpredictable as he started to laugh.

“…Rum… DIEEEEEE.” His words more clear now. Liz’s hand moved to her pistol holder. John started to run towards the door too.

“Shit! I think he’ll become violent.” Liz shouted.

Suddenly a cracking sound came from his shoulder as he twisted his hand free, probably disjointing or breaking it. For a moment Liz and John froze with shock at his effort. Then they rushed out trying to catch up with him.

The sounds of breaking glass were followed by a dull thumbing noise of a body hitting the ground. As Liz’s body turned towards her back, towards were the sound originated, her hand had already released her pistol and pointed towards that same direction.

John was lying on his back with an expression of pain masking his face. Beneath his foot were the remains of the tequila bottle he had stepped on, a step that led to his fall. Should the situation wasn’t so dire, Liz would have burst out laughing, but now the only thing that filled her senses was rage; rage for the ineptitude of her partner.

“Fuck” John shouted as he gripped his sprained ankle. “Move Liz, Move. Don’t just stand there. Catch him quickly, if he tells anyone about us the whole mission will have to be canceled.” John shouted to her.

Liz was barely following the shadow of the drunkard as he ran. For his condition he was extremely fast; continuously gaining distance. But Liz hoped, she hoped that his lungs wouldn’t last him, that he would fall on his knees fighting for air in any second now. She would only have to tail him till that happened.

As she turned in the corner, a string of incoherent curses escaped her mouth; a crossroad; and she had no way of knowing were he went at. A curled body lay at the center of it, dressed in black. Maybe…

Her trail of thoughts was cut short as she looked at the body that was slowly trying to stand up. ‘What the hell does a nun do in such a place?’ She wondered as she rushed subconsciously to aid the elder woman.

Small, broken words escaped the thin lips of the elderly woman. “…My daughter… Thank you. Yes, yes, I’m ok… Just a random drunkard pushed me down as he was rushing towards there…” The nun said pointing to the right path. Liz was already sprinting towards there before the elderly woman had the chance to finish up her sentence.

As she saw the agent’s shadow vanishing in the dark alleys Maria stretched her body. Her wrinkled hands started to dust the dirt off her shirt. Within less than a minute, the disheveled old lady had regained her majestic stature, her movements themselves instilling respect to everyone who was to look upon her. The wrinkles in her hands and face, the only flesh that was visible through her outfit, contradicted the mirth of her eyes as they shone with the light that one can only expect from a teenager.

“I’m sorry my child” she whispered towards the, now gone, agent. “This one is worthy to try to save. I won’t let him go to jail for some petty crime without at least trying…” She ended her small speech with a melodic voice that seemed to belong to a prayer. Merrily, she started skipping with agile steps, like she was almost dancing, towards the left path, towards where her target had run off…

She found him in a heap made from dirt and his own blood; his hazy eyes and filthy skin of no consequence to her. She knew who she was; she knew why she had being gifted. When others just passed by a drunkard, she could really see the blinding white aura of pureness that enveloped this man, an aura almost as strong as hers. His gaze fell upon her for just a second, and then, probably feeling the calmness she emitted, she saw his eyes closing, surrendering himself to Morpheus' peaceful embrace, allowing him to pass out and maybe rest.

Her bright eyes rose to the sky “Thank You Lord. Please grand me the strength to bring a worthy man back to a righteous path.” She whispered her self-made prayer.

As she gripped his shoulder, she felt doubt entering her mind. It was the first time she wasn’t completely sure about her actions. She shrugged her shoulders and stood still for a second, thinking something. And then she repeated the now changed prayer. ‘Thank You Lord for granting me the privilege of doubt. Thank You for allowing me to choose my own path. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe I’ll fail You. But I can only see this as a test for my faith… and love.’ This time the words were never spoken. Instead she formed them in her mind, after all, she knew that God only really listens to hearts, not words.