(no subject)
The situation definitely looked compromising. Neither of us particularly clothed. Lying in her bed, trying to ignore what was happening around me. This failed in its entirety when Madelynn’s boyfriend opened up the front door, incoherently demanding to know who was here. He screamed with the hint of insanity that comes with one too many hallucinogenics. I barely knew what was happening when the door swung wide, and he stood, like the killer in a slasher movie, wielding a knife.
“What are you doing with my girlfriend?” he demanded of me, speaking in a manner which was eerily calm. Nothing had happened between Madelynn and I, although a part of me had wished it. But how do you convey this when all you are able to stammer out is one syllable mumbles.
Her boyfriend’s apparent calm didn’t last long, and I had barely enough time to grab whatever was on the nightstand beside me and jump up as he lunged towards me. All I could hear was her screaming, like an assault on my eardrums, as she watched her boyfriend and I collide.
I fell to my knees, blood from the freshly inflicted wound dripping from my hands. Red. For some reason, as I slumped to my knees, the warm blood dripping off of my hands, I was reminded that it was the oxygen in the air that caused blood to have that red tinge that was so hard to reproduce in the movies. My racing heart pumped the blood through my blue veins, and I looked over at Madelynn as she screamed some more. Or had it been one continuous scream this whole time?
My head lowered, and all I could think about was how beautifully disastrous she looked. How horribly lovely. How she stood out in the dark room filled with chaos…
***
It reminded me of how she looked in the grocery store three days before. She gave me a big hug when she saw me. I always felt awkward when people gave me hugs. We hadn’t seen each other for a year or so, and although we had never been close, it was still nice to see someone familiar, as I was determining which green pepper was adequate.
Neither of us had much time, so we agreed to meet for coffee the next day. Catching up on seemingly non-existent old times. We talked; shared stories of what had occurred since last we talked. My stories seemed boring and uninspired when compared to what she had been doing. And by what, I meant partying. Alcohol. Drugs.
Of course she didn’t straight out tell me any details, or even that she had become addicted to the lifestyle, but it was, in a sense, implied. Little mannerisms gave me the impression that she was not the same ‘innocent’ girl I had known. Not that she had ever been innocent, but she now had the appearance of being much older than I.
I was a bit surprised when she invited me to a party her and her friends were going to the next evening. Without thinking, I said yes. Despite the obvious differences between us, I couldn’t help but be fascinated by her. It was like everything around was dimmed except for Madelynn.
***
Upon arriving at the party, I knew immediately that I would not fit in. A waft of marijuana hung over the living room. Madelynn seemed to sense my discomfort, and stuck around me for most of the evening. As the alcohol consumption increased, we began to block out more and more of the party, until it was just the two of us. Occasionally she would excuse herself and go to one of the back rooms. I knew she was feeding her addiction, but I pretended that I didn’t know. She would come back, and we would continue the conversation from where it had left.
Finally, people began to leave the house. We drunkenly walked the blocks to where she lived, and she invited me inside, rather than force me to walk back to my own house. We slipped off most of our clothes, and under the covers of her bed, the alcohol impeding our judgment. It felt natural to be with her, less than a foot separated from each other. We continued conversations from earlier. I could just make out her eyes in the dim lighting of the room.
She rolled away from me, as one sentence trailed off. I watched as she went into her dresser. I didn’t want to know what she was pulling out. What she was doing to herself. I turned away, hiding in my own ignorance.
And in that most perfect of moments, her boyfriend came home. A whimper escaped her mouth, and he opened the door to her room. The survival instinct that reminds us we are still animals kicked in as he moved towards me. Grabbing the pen from her nightstand beside me, my hand moved towards my assailant.
Her fanatical screaming deafened the room, and I looked down to see the blood dripping off my hand. Blood from the wound I had created. Blood from the wound in her boyfriend’s neck from where the pen I had wielded had entered his neck.
All I could hear was Madelynn as she scrambled over and held her boyfriend’s limp head in her hands, and all I could see was red. The rich red of blood that looks all too real when it’s caused by you.
***
The police had ruled my actions to be in self-defense, and Madelynn had attested for this. No charges were placed. I didn’t go to his funeral. I couldn’t face his family and friends. Madelynn didn’t attend the funeral either. As soon as she could, she packed up her belongings and left town. I haven’t seen her since. I can only hope that she is no longer addicted to the lifestyle, and that she won’t bump into me in a grocery store some day.