Images flash before him. They’re so blue and so bright, he’s not sure how much longer he can look at them. He can feel the cool air of breathing cross over his neckline, sending shivers through him.
Their fingers entwined, his heart racing as if he’s been running for hours. He feels as if his stomach is tied into a knot, tickling him on the inside.
The brightest blue eyes he’s ever seen. They make him feel warm, wanted even. Like suddenly, idyllic is more than a reference to complete bliss. Yes, that’s it. Bliss. Belonging. Home, maybe.
Darkness again.
John’s eyes shoot open. His sheets are kicked off the bed, creating a big mess on the small floor to his right. The mattress feels soaked beneath him. Just two beautiful eyes, he only remembers the eyes. Unlike his own, they were filled with love and warmth. At least that’s what he thinks it felt like.
He didn’t think he’d care for this thing people call love. He’d rather be alone, no woman bugging him, annoying him due to their never ending need. That’s all he knows. Women always want more.
But these eyes, they keep pulling him in. Making him feel needy. |
Intently, he stares at himself in the mirror once again. His eyes seem darker to him. Like he’s changing inside and something darker is appearing. With the kind of thoughts he’s been having lately, and all this anger boiled up inside him, it almost doesn’t surprise him. Almost.
He runs his clean hand through his thick hair. In comparison to all the muscles he grew the past few months, the hair doesn’t look good. The picture of the strong man, unafraid, ready to take on the entire world, he created in his mind, doesn’t have all this hair.
For mere seconds, he stares from his hairy reflection to the shiv in the sink. Grabbing the cream from the cabinet, he keeps looking at himself, his hand equally dividing the cream onto his head. He picks up the shiv after washing the cream off his hand and carefully start taking off the cream with the sharp knife.
The sink starts to fill up with a mixture of cream and dark hairs, while his scalp turns visible to him in the small, old mirror. He smirks at the idea of his imagined feature being completed after he’s done.
Water runs across his scalp, his fingers tracing over the bare skin to feel no more hairs left behind. The reflection he sees in the mirror pleases him and he almost feels more alive, more real. Feels more like a man, instead of an eighteen year old boy. |
His eyes scan the room, every inch of the place burning into his retina, to never forget. The large corridor to his left is crowded, as always, men walking in and out of the main entrance to seek pleasure inside the warm walls. The greenish color of the walls sickens him, reminding him of nights in the med bay hoping the girls would be okay.
Small coffee brown booths take up the entire wall across from him. The cushions occupied by groups of men drinking and talking about the women they’ll have later on tonight. Others packed with women prancing around more men, making them hot, dancing for them in their small outfits.
The wall on the right is filled with a music box, currently playing old fashioned songs that Riddick despises. The large board besides it tells which girl is available and which ones are busy.
The bar right before him packed with the lonely men, seeking pleasure on their own. Riddick knows most of them keep this part of their life secret. Wives waiting at home with the new born babies, a hard day of work behind them and these sexy women offering them pleasures and relaxation. They know that as long as they pay, they can fulfill all their deepest fantasies here. That alone is the reason they’re here.
Sounds of glass against glass overpowering the hideous music, people toasting and people ordering new rounds of beers and other alcohol. |
