Immortalis Caris - Chapter 12 - Committing
Immortalis Caris - Chapter 12
He had the cigarette ready before he got off the elevator. The moment he pushed through the condo doors, he lit it. He leaned against a pillar, inhaling with force, expecting the head rush he normally got after two days without one.
Nothing.
Nothing? He just didn’t crave the nicotine. He crushed it out after just a few drags.
I need some air.
The frigid air was heaven. It took some serious effort to trudge through the drifts of fresh powder to his car, but his muscles reveled in it. Gross motor, baby! I could walk home right now! He compared the feeling to doing a bump and hitting that sweet state of... cruising speed in mid-run where you just HAD to move, to dance, to walk, to run... just couldn’t sit still. Despite his restless state of mind over what Dee had just told him… I feel… fantastic! And with that delicious realization came the guilt of being high... and loving it. Close behind the guilt came the nagging voice that cautioned... and when you come down, you’ll be a shattered mess. You’re destroying yourself. You’re fucking eating yourself alive.
His car clock said 7:15. A day and a half! Christ, Carlisle! Lost time? It’s worse than being on a fucking run again! Get your shit together! Is any girl worth this? You need to bathe and change your stinking clothes! You totally spaced out work! You are so gonna get docked for this!
He drove to his end of town on roughly plowed and salted streets. No attempt had been made to clear or treat the little street to his house, of course, but by staying in the tire tracks of an enormous SUV that had passed that way, he was able to make it to his driveway.
The fresh snowfall almost made his dingy neighborhood look respectable. The little 1940’s clapboard boxes looked quaint, even homey, adorned in white. It temporarily covered the haggard face of bad original construction and half a century of neglect.
He stood on the front porch for a moment before he opened the front door. The moan of the hinges echoed the cry in his chest that he refused to utter. He stepped inside; it smelled like stale cigarette smoke and microwave plastic. He turned on the light and his brain clicked into automatic. He shucked his shoes inside the door, and made his way into the dark bedroom. He hit the overhead light switch and moved to empty his pockets onto the dresser. He stripped off his clothes and dumped them unceremoniously into the hamper outside the bathroom door.
He stood under the hot water, letting it scald the last two days from his body. He visualized confusion being shed like dead skin cells with the force of the shower, the heat soothing the sharp edges in his brain. He felt safer, calmer, blessedly alone in his own space in his own head.
He inadvertently crushed the bar of soap in his fist. He opened his palm under the downpour to watch in amazement as the suds blossomed and overflowed.
What... has happened to me?
I was hurt, then I was healed. I had an unbelievable dream that somehow feels like it really happened. Now I’m different, stronger than before. Physically. Mentally. My senses are wide awake, super sensitive... hungry for stimulation…
And Jess is dead.
A man died because of you, Carlisle! You wanted her, and now you can fucking have her! The obstruction is gone, dude!
But Jess wasn’t the only thing stopping me. I was stopping myself...
This blood thing. I don’t get it. Some kind of medical problem? Some kind of mental problem? I can’t change it, can I?
I should be freaking out -- and I am --
But I’m not.
Goddamnit!! I know what I want. I know who I want. I’ve never been this fucking sure about anything. I’ve held myself back and wallowed in self-pity because I had a fucking jerk of a father. He’s not taking this from me. I don’t have to be alone.
He turned off the water and stood there as it dripped off of him, steam rising from his skin. The sound of drops hitting the porcelain was musical, a delicate symphony, rich, textured, full. The hollow percussion of water flowing down the drain was accompaniment. My hearing’s been affected too… amazing!
What’s your gut telling you, Carlisle? Go to her. Help her. Be what she needs. Dee is what you need. Trust this. For the first time in your sorry life, commit, you motherfucker!
He grabbed a towel, drying himself while staring into the grainy, yellowing mirror.
He saw the cheap carpet, the drab, thrift-store furniture, the lack of anything personal or unique. Nothing that inspired any interest in living. This place he called ‘home’ closed in on him, underscoring the loneliness he so carefully suppressed and rationalized every moment of every day.
No one could possibly hear him now, so he vocalized the sound that was expanding inside him, rising, now unchecked by the availability of privacy.
“I don’t want to be here!” he howled, raw and vital.
“I don’t want to be alone!” he railed at the blank TV situated between the buckled wallpaper and moth-eaten beige drapes.
Jess’s body. Have to get rid of it. That’s the first step. From there, we’ll figure it out, Dee. We’ll figure out the rest of this strange shit...
He stalked back into the bedroom and grabbed his cell from the bed. He dialed the Nurses’ Exchange.
“This is Carlisle Cullen, LVN… first shift… Yes. I’m calling in… Taking personal days until next week… Family emergency… That’s right, I’ve already been out two days… Couldn’t be helped… Yes, please give my apologies to the Registry scheduler... I’ll be in touch if I need more time… Uh huh… Thanks.”
Click.
Wow. That was so easy. It’s amazing what you can get away with when you act like you’re entitled to it!
He took a gym bag from the closet and packed what he didn’t put on: jeans, sweatshirts, toiletries, towel, long underwear, socks, boots.
He shut off the lights and turned on the radio on his way out. Snow showered the edge of the porch when he slammed the door.
Let’s do this.
…..ll x ll x ll x ll…..
She was waiting for him in the lobby.
Of course. Doesn’t surprise me. I’ve been mentally shouting all the way across town. What is her range, anyway?
She handed him a set of keys. “You’re driving.”
It was a little disappointing and a lot unnerving not even to have the satisfaction of telling her he had decided to help her. He sighed. Get used to it, Carlisle!
He followed her back to the elevator where she pressed B for the basement parking. Upon exiting, she glanced briefly at him, then at the remote in his hand. He pressed it, there was an answering click and a flash of utility lights from the corner space. Jess’s truck. Black and new, it was one of those American-made, macho dick-compensation monsters. He smirked as they climbed in.
“OK. Where to?”
“Down.”
He started the engine and carefully spiraled the enormous vehicle to the third basement where the trash, laundry and storage areas were.
“Pull up next to the dumpster.”
She hopped out, rolled back the aluminum truck bed cover and opened the trash bin. She beckoned him to reverse into the space next to it. She stepped up into the bed of the truck, then bent at the waist to reach into the bin. He realized with startled unbelief what she was going to do a second before she did it.
She pulled the tightly tied lump of blanket that was Jess into the bed of the truck in one swift movement. It was difficult to believe what he was witnessing, but there it was-she had lifted dead weight twice her own size and tossed it into the truck as if it were a sack of stuffed animals, not a 200-plus pound man.
Now is not the time for questions, Carlisle.
Securing the bundle against the front of the truck bed, she jumped out and closed the cover. She opened the passenger door and swung her body in.
“Jesus, Dee!”
“Drive, please,” she said serenely.
He drove. Forward motion was so much easier than attempting speech. As soon as they were clear of the building onto Trinity Drive he stammered, “Wh-what did you do, shove him down the f-fucking trash chute?”
“That’s one of the reasons we chose this building,” was her placid response.
Oh God! I don’t even want to think about it!
“Don’t think, just drive.”
…..ll x ll x ll x ll…..
Chapter 13
He had the cigarette ready before he got off the elevator. The moment he pushed through the condo doors, he lit it. He leaned against a pillar, inhaling with force, expecting the head rush he normally got after two days without one.
Nothing.
Nothing? He just didn’t crave the nicotine. He crushed it out after just a few drags.
I need some air.
The frigid air was heaven. It took some serious effort to trudge through the drifts of fresh powder to his car, but his muscles reveled in it. Gross motor, baby! I could walk home right now! He compared the feeling to doing a bump and hitting that sweet state of... cruising speed in mid-run where you just HAD to move, to dance, to walk, to run... just couldn’t sit still. Despite his restless state of mind over what Dee had just told him… I feel… fantastic! And with that delicious realization came the guilt of being high... and loving it. Close behind the guilt came the nagging voice that cautioned... and when you come down, you’ll be a shattered mess. You’re destroying yourself. You’re fucking eating yourself alive.
His car clock said 7:15. A day and a half! Christ, Carlisle! Lost time? It’s worse than being on a fucking run again! Get your shit together! Is any girl worth this? You need to bathe and change your stinking clothes! You totally spaced out work! You are so gonna get docked for this!
He drove to his end of town on roughly plowed and salted streets. No attempt had been made to clear or treat the little street to his house, of course, but by staying in the tire tracks of an enormous SUV that had passed that way, he was able to make it to his driveway.
The fresh snowfall almost made his dingy neighborhood look respectable. The little 1940’s clapboard boxes looked quaint, even homey, adorned in white. It temporarily covered the haggard face of bad original construction and half a century of neglect.
He stood on the front porch for a moment before he opened the front door. The moan of the hinges echoed the cry in his chest that he refused to utter. He stepped inside; it smelled like stale cigarette smoke and microwave plastic. He turned on the light and his brain clicked into automatic. He shucked his shoes inside the door, and made his way into the dark bedroom. He hit the overhead light switch and moved to empty his pockets onto the dresser. He stripped off his clothes and dumped them unceremoniously into the hamper outside the bathroom door.
He stood under the hot water, letting it scald the last two days from his body. He visualized confusion being shed like dead skin cells with the force of the shower, the heat soothing the sharp edges in his brain. He felt safer, calmer, blessedly alone in his own space in his own head.
He inadvertently crushed the bar of soap in his fist. He opened his palm under the downpour to watch in amazement as the suds blossomed and overflowed.
What... has happened to me?
I was hurt, then I was healed. I had an unbelievable dream that somehow feels like it really happened. Now I’m different, stronger than before. Physically. Mentally. My senses are wide awake, super sensitive... hungry for stimulation…
And Jess is dead.
A man died because of you, Carlisle! You wanted her, and now you can fucking have her! The obstruction is gone, dude!
But Jess wasn’t the only thing stopping me. I was stopping myself...
This blood thing. I don’t get it. Some kind of medical problem? Some kind of mental problem? I can’t change it, can I?
I should be freaking out -- and I am --
But I’m not.
Goddamnit!! I know what I want. I know who I want. I’ve never been this fucking sure about anything. I’ve held myself back and wallowed in self-pity because I had a fucking jerk of a father. He’s not taking this from me. I don’t have to be alone.
He turned off the water and stood there as it dripped off of him, steam rising from his skin. The sound of drops hitting the porcelain was musical, a delicate symphony, rich, textured, full. The hollow percussion of water flowing down the drain was accompaniment. My hearing’s been affected too… amazing!
What’s your gut telling you, Carlisle? Go to her. Help her. Be what she needs. Dee is what you need. Trust this. For the first time in your sorry life, commit, you motherfucker!
He grabbed a towel, drying himself while staring into the grainy, yellowing mirror.
He saw the cheap carpet, the drab, thrift-store furniture, the lack of anything personal or unique. Nothing that inspired any interest in living. This place he called ‘home’ closed in on him, underscoring the loneliness he so carefully suppressed and rationalized every moment of every day.
No one could possibly hear him now, so he vocalized the sound that was expanding inside him, rising, now unchecked by the availability of privacy.
“I don’t want to be here!” he howled, raw and vital.
“I don’t want to be alone!” he railed at the blank TV situated between the buckled wallpaper and moth-eaten beige drapes.
Jess’s body. Have to get rid of it. That’s the first step. From there, we’ll figure it out, Dee. We’ll figure out the rest of this strange shit...
He stalked back into the bedroom and grabbed his cell from the bed. He dialed the Nurses’ Exchange.
“This is Carlisle Cullen, LVN… first shift… Yes. I’m calling in… Taking personal days until next week… Family emergency… That’s right, I’ve already been out two days… Couldn’t be helped… Yes, please give my apologies to the Registry scheduler... I’ll be in touch if I need more time… Uh huh… Thanks.”
Click.
Wow. That was so easy. It’s amazing what you can get away with when you act like you’re entitled to it!
He took a gym bag from the closet and packed what he didn’t put on: jeans, sweatshirts, toiletries, towel, long underwear, socks, boots.
He shut off the lights and turned on the radio on his way out. Snow showered the edge of the porch when he slammed the door.
Let’s do this.
…..ll x ll x ll x ll…..
She was waiting for him in the lobby.
Of course. Doesn’t surprise me. I’ve been mentally shouting all the way across town. What is her range, anyway?
She handed him a set of keys. “You’re driving.”
It was a little disappointing and a lot unnerving not even to have the satisfaction of telling her he had decided to help her. He sighed. Get used to it, Carlisle!
He followed her back to the elevator where she pressed B for the basement parking. Upon exiting, she glanced briefly at him, then at the remote in his hand. He pressed it, there was an answering click and a flash of utility lights from the corner space. Jess’s truck. Black and new, it was one of those American-made, macho dick-compensation monsters. He smirked as they climbed in.
“OK. Where to?”
“Down.”
He started the engine and carefully spiraled the enormous vehicle to the third basement where the trash, laundry and storage areas were.
“Pull up next to the dumpster.”
She hopped out, rolled back the aluminum truck bed cover and opened the trash bin. She beckoned him to reverse into the space next to it. She stepped up into the bed of the truck, then bent at the waist to reach into the bin. He realized with startled unbelief what she was going to do a second before she did it.
She pulled the tightly tied lump of blanket that was Jess into the bed of the truck in one swift movement. It was difficult to believe what he was witnessing, but there it was-she had lifted dead weight twice her own size and tossed it into the truck as if it were a sack of stuffed animals, not a 200-plus pound man.
Now is not the time for questions, Carlisle.
Securing the bundle against the front of the truck bed, she jumped out and closed the cover. She opened the passenger door and swung her body in.
“Jesus, Dee!”
“Drive, please,” she said serenely.
He drove. Forward motion was so much easier than attempting speech. As soon as they were clear of the building onto Trinity Drive he stammered, “Wh-what did you do, shove him down the f-fucking trash chute?”
“That’s one of the reasons we chose this building,” was her placid response.
Oh God! I don’t even want to think about it!
“Don’t think, just drive.”
…..ll x ll x ll x ll…..
Chapter 13