Chiaroscuro - Jag, Ch. 2

Jag_

The long, red canopy of grass sways around me and the clouds lag by. My mouth tastes metallic and sticky and there’s no spit to swallow. I want to run but my whole body is a spasm of pain and that only makes it worse. I lean back my head and tilt my ears. There is a wren rummaging through an ant hill, clucking to itself happily as its talons scrape at the loose dirt. A fox pads towards with killing intent. It steps on a thorn and yelps into the stillness. A rush of feathers sounds as the wren takes flight. I want to kill that fox, feel it in my jaws, feel the life snap like its spine when my fangs find the collarbone, squishy, saucy veins that empty themselves into my throat. I want to get up so much but my organs burn and blaze at the slightest of movements. My freedom is restricted. I should be used to that at this point.

Then I hear it. Bare feet hit the ground. They are smacking rhythmically and quickly and are coming this way. It’s the town girl, black hair pulled back sloppily into a bun, and she erupts into giggles when she sees that I have not left my position, choice or no. A white plastic bag dangles off one arm precariously, something inside it smells like heat. Heat implies death. Is it blood? I can’t tell. My salivary glands finally jumpstart.

“Give me some,” I demand. My hand reaches for the bag though I’m too far to snag it. She grins and leaves it a distance away before she comes toeing over to me and sitting down on top of her legs by my side, folding her pleated school skirt underneath her.

“Give me some, dammit,” I repeat, snarling. I feel the noise reverberating in my chest, and even that hurts.

“Shh. Not yet.” Her dark ringlets fall away from her ears and frame her face as she cranes her neck to look at me. “Be patient. Are you going to hurt me? Don’t be so angry, baby. You’re safe now. Do you remember my name?”

I don’t. I stare at her.

“Oh!” she cries and tosses her long-lashed cow eyes. “It’s Ebony. The same as my hair. My parents aren’t very clever, are they? Well, they thought it was pretty. I suppose it’s nice enough. At least it isn’t exactly plain, right?”

“I don’t care,” I growl. I try to sit up but something in my chest explodes with heartburn, and I fall back against the cushion of the weeds. “Nngh-”

“Shh, shh,” Ebony coos, finger brushing my cheekbone, “don’t speak.” She leans over me suddenly and for a split second her pale blue eyes meet mine, like a challenger in a fight, and the urge to tear her to pieces jolts through my gums. Confusion extinguishes the blood thirst. She presses her pink lips against mine and pulls at them, trying to shape them with hers. They are disobedient. Her arms come behind my head, and she teases my hair lovingly before lifting me closer to her. Her breath speeds from her nose in short bursts. The unnatural sugary scent that hangs about her is bothersome, and my hand finds her shoulder to push her away. One of her own hands grabs my wrist and presses it against the ground. “Bad doggie,” she gasps in a fake scolding tone, separating for just a second to speak before meshing us together again by lip lock.

She finally tears away, but her smell still lingers like aftermath. Her smooth tongue sneaks out and does a slow lap around her lusty smile, perhaps for some taste I may have left behind with her.

“Have you ever been kissed before?” she breathes coyly. Those sky-colored eyes are moist and flicker with sunlight.

I smear my mouth across the back of my hand, which sours her expression. The residue she’d left me was not to my liking. “No.”

“What did you think?” Her voice is thick and syrupy as she settles down next to me on her stomach. She cups her hand behind my ear, strokes the side of my face again, finger rubbing the area above my upper lip in a small circle. It tingles, unsure of whether to like or hate the touch.

I remember the food she brought. “Give me some.”

“Some what?” One of her kempt eyebrows curves upwards, wondering if I’m asking to make out again. “Oh, you’re hungry. Of course, Jag, baby. Just a moment.”

She turns on her dirt-dusted knees and crawls over to where the bag lies, plastic crinkling in the slight breeze. I raise my head weakly to see what she’s brought for me. She pulls out a plate covered with a flexible sheet of transparent wrap.

“We had turkey for dinner last night,” the girl drawls, grinning as she removes a large leg still attached to the bone. “My father likes to go hunting and he caught a really large one, and the cooks coated it in spices and peppers. I brought some leftovers for you. They’re nice and hot from the microwave. Open up.”

I turn my head to my shoulder as she brought it closer to my face. “I want to hold it myself.”

“Oh, let me feed you!” she begs. “You’re so weak, look at you! You can’t even stand up. You poor little thing. It’s pitiful. You’re lucky I actually care for you. There’s no other being in the world who would be so good to a half-dog like you!”

“I’m not pitiful!” I snap, and she draws away in fright. “Now give it to me!”

“I love you,” the girl sniffles, staring at me with her fluttering eyes, downcast. “Can’t you at least say ‘thank you’? I found you almost dead and I helped you and- and you won’t- you won’t even look at me nice, you only- you, like… You’re so frustrating! I love you so much, don’t you care about me at all?!” Tears spill down her cheeks endlessly and catch at the end of her chin.

I don’t say anything. I grab the food, rip at the white skin with my weak teeth. My stomach gurgles angrily at me, whether chastising me for not eating sooner or for giving it work to do after a two-day vacation, or both. The rich flavors cooked into the meat taste strong and when I try to swallow, my throat bunches, so reluctant to let the food slide down easily. The girl watches sullenly as I eat, a jumble of expressions twisting at the corners of her mouth. I wonder why she’s still here.

“Get away from me.” Her presence is aggravating. “Who are you anyway?”

“I’m Ebony,” she sobs quietly, but then her hysterical voice reaches fever pitch, her face warped with sadness. “I just told you that and you already forgot! What’s wrong with you?!”

“I don’t know,” I mutter, feeling a metallic taste in my mouth and a sting in my stomach, and I realize I’m soon going to throw up what I just ate. I decide that it’s her fault. Before she was here, I didn’t feel this way. I wrinkle my nose back. “Go! Now! Or I’ll rip your pretty face off!”

“You… You think I’m pretty then…” she whispers to herself with serenity, arms hugged against her. Then she stands and sprints away on her pale doe legs, tripping once as she climbs back over the hill, to wherever she came from, and leaves me to myself.

A wren with copper wings lands on a long strand of red grass and watches me with its beady eyes. My stomach wrenches, and I bark out. It cocks its neck to the left as if to get a better angle.

“Have I seen you before?” The words are mangled with the pain.

It chirrups at me curiously before swooping into the scarlet abyss.

“I guess not…” I utter and finally empty my stomach.