Soulless

          A harsh wind gust makes him tremble this night as the sliver grin of the moon is watching his every step.

            Leaf rustling echoes in Jamie’s ears. An empty cardboard box moved by the wind makes him suddenly stop. His heart is pounding, menacing to break his ribs and escape the chest’s cage.

            With his sweaty hands deepened into the pockets, Jamie slowly starts to walk again through the shimmer of the moon. Anxiously, he keeps looking behind his shoulder. There’s nothing, excepting a white cat. Its gloomy, blue eyes are fixed on Jamie. A grating caterwaul is coming out of its mouth, disturbing the silence of the night.

-          Hey there, whispers Jamie through the dark.

He smiles, leading his footsteps forward, on cobble stones.

Like a specter in the night, the white coated animal runs among his legs and sits before him waving its fluffy tail. Another caterwaul invades the bleak street.

-          You look just like a fur ball, he says to the cat, petting its head, its neck…

Jamie froze for a moment, hearing a shout and a thud behind him. Suddenly he turns around, with his heart madly beating. All he has to see is the deserted street. His eyes are fixed on the dark alley behind him, from where the sounds came from. A painful cry floats through the air, surrounding Jamie.

Almost breathless, with the cold wind in his face, Jamie knows that he should run as fast as he can. “Run, Jamie, run!” he whispers to himself. So he did, but he plunged into the dark, hearing the sounds closer and closer.

                       *

Hidden behind a dirty dumpster, Jamie is watching shocked the bloody scene. With his eyes swimming in tears he’s stone-still. Drops of sweat trickle down his tense face.

            A half-naked man is lying on the pavement, with his face soaked in tears and blood. He’s surrounded by four attackers, all dressed in black. Their faces were something that Jamie has never seen before; the weirdest being their eyes, red and gloomy.

            One of the attackers started to cleave the man’s chest. A painful shout came out of the victim’s mouth, accompanied by a significant amount of blood. The attacker deepened his hands into the wound, digging his way through the bloody flesh.

            Jamie is trembling, silently crying. He makes one step behind, terrified.

            “C’mon, Jamie, this cannot be real. I’ve told you the last glass of vodka is not a good idea. Ok, ok, the last three ones. Now wake up, man!”

            The victim is screaming his lungs out, while the attacker is tearing out his bloody, beating heart.

            “Turn around and go home, for the God’s sake! I bet you still need that old, rotten thing that you call heart”

            Jamie is making another step behind, while the killer is rising up the dead heart, into the moonlight, holding it into his clawed hands.

            “It’s just a nightmare. That’s all. It’s just a…” said Jamie to himself. But he couldn’t finish the phrase, because he fell over a cardboard box, making an infernal noise. Crying, he started to crawl on the cold pavement.

-          What was that?, said one of the attackers.

-          I’ll check it, don’t worry.

Almost breathless, Jamie stopped moving. Rising up his head, he sees the red eyes of the attacker, his white fangs.

-          No, no…, is Jamie crying, fallen on his knees.

-          Shut up, idiot!, yelled the attacker, grabbing him by the neck. You would better move, he said waving his bloody knife around Jamie’s face.

-          You are not real… you don’t exist, you cannot exist, it’s impossible…, is Jamie moaning with his eyes closed. Wake up, Jamie, wake up!, he cries with his neck caught in a painful grip.

 

*

The attackers have the face of a demon, a haunting nightmare. Their dry skin reminds Jamie of reptiles.

One of the monsters, hysterical laughing, starts to pour gasoline over the dead body.

-          Please, let me go…, begs Jamie with bitter tears flowing down his cheeks.

-          Shut up!, yelled one of the attackers, pulling out a lighter.

In less than five minutes, a wild fire started on the bloody corpse of the half-naked man, while Jamie continued his pathetic begging for mercy. But his words weren’t heard.

                                               

                               *

 

            Almost beaten to death, Jamie lies on the pavement all alone, in a pool of his own blood. The pain floats thought all his smashed body at every breath. With his eyes closed, Jamie cries to the moon, to the dark, to someone that could hear him.

            He crawls, scratching the pavement with his blunt nails. Suddenly, Jamie stops, with tears running down his dirty, bruised face. Jamie lies on his back, with his hands placed of his cloven abdomen. Bloody guts are falling out of the deep wound.

            Hardly breathing, Jamie feels his ending. Snippets of memories are floating through his mind.

            “If I could just… magically wake up in my bed without a wound”, says Jamie to himself. He giggles, coughing blood.

            “I would consider even selling my soul. I don’t need it anyway”. Another bloody cough preceding his sentence. Jamie’s lips take the shape of a painful grin.

            A caterwaul breaks the silence of the night.

“If I could just…”

                                   *

             The rays of the sun are coming through the window, as he opens his eyes with his face covered in sweat. Hardly breathing, Jamie touches his neck, his chest, his abdomen.

-          What a crazy nightmare…, he whispers, still shocked.

He deepens his left hand under the mattress, pulling out a bottle of vodka, just before hearing the knocking on the door.

-          Wait a minute!, he shouts.

After taking a shot of vodka, Jamie rushes to the door. He pulled the latch and opened the door, while the stranger raised his hand, ready to knock again.

            Dressed in a black suit, the stranger, smiling, fixes Jamie with his blue eyes.

-          Good morning, he says shaking Jamie’s hand. Can I come in?

-          Well… okay, I guess…

The stranger enters the living room, places his briefcase on the coffee table and takes a place on the sofa.

-          My name is Patrick, says the middle-aged man.

-          Okay…

-          I guess you are Jamie.

-          I think so.

Patrick smiles, lighting up a cigarette. He opens the briefcase and takes out a photo.

-          Take a look, says Patrick, handing the photo to Jamie.

From the photo, a happy boy is smiling at them.

-          Sorry, I have no money for charity, says Jamie putting down the photo.

A wild laughter comes out of Patrick’s mouth.

-          Charity?!, he laughs. Charity you said? You are a true comedian.

Jamie stares perplexed at Patrick.

-          What do you want from me?, asks Jamie, looking at the photo one more time.

A cold smile, like the edge of a sharp blade, spreads on Patrick’s face.

-          You must murder this boy, he whispers. You must tears out his beating heart and place it into this jar, says Patrick, taking out a jar from the briefcase and placing it on the table.

With his heart madly beating, with sweaty hands, Jamie feels breathless.

-          I think you’ve got the wrong man, pal, says Jamie with his eyes fixed on the photo.

-          We have a deal with you, JAMIE, hisses Patrick smiling.

-          What are you talking about?

-          You belong to us, answers the middle-aged man. You sold your soul to us, he whispers, pointing to Jamie.

Jamie’s eyes are swimming in tears, reviewing his nightmare.

“It was just a nightmare, man. That’s all… “

-          … Or is it?, whispers Patrick.

-          What the… how did you do that?, asks Jamie terrified.

-          We are everywhere, Jamie. Even there, he says touching Jamie’s head.

-          Get out!, yells Jamie. Get out of my house or I’ll call the police!

Patrick’s acute laughter invades the room.

-          You can try if you want to, says Patrick smiling.

-          Get out I said!, shouts Jamie grabbing the man by the coat and pulling him to the door.

-          You have 24 hours.

-          I won’t kill anyone. You are crazy!

-          … Tick tock, tick tock, whispers Patrick.

Jamie grabs the briefcase and throws it down the stairs.

-          Go away!, he yells.

-          You should take a look in the mirror, Jamie.

-          I don’t belong to anyone, you schizophrenic liar!

-          You have some information about the target on the back of the photo, says Patrick.

-          What if I won’t do it?!, yells Jamie.

-          You die. Simple as that.

-          What if I want to die?

-          24 hours, Jamie, replies Patrick going down the stairs. Leave the filled jar under your bed.

-          Go away!, he shouts slamming the door.

*

            Hardly breathing, Jamie stares at the photo, holding his bottle of vodka.

-          I won’t kill this kid…, he whispers.

Taking a shot of vodka, he turns the photo on the other side, seeing the information about the boy. Here where included his age, address, parent’s names, his schedule.

-          What was he saying about the mirror? What a crazy man…, says Jamie walking slowly to the bathroom.

 

*

-      No! NO! No…, cries Jamie staring at his reflection in the mirror.

With his fingers deepened into his sweaty black hair, Jamie cries despaired, fixing his own image. His dark brown eyes are staring back at him. His face in the mirror looks smashed, like a mix between the skull and flesh. His skin seems torn, while the stomach looks cleaved, with the guts falling out.

-          This is a LIE!, he shouts hitting the mirror, which broke into a million of shiny, bloody shards that flew all around his naked body.

Jamie let himself fall on the bathroom’s floor, feeling his heart fighting to escape his chest. A strange feeling of sinking into the darkness surrounds him.

-          I don’t want to die yet…, he whispers with bitter tears racing down his face.

“… tick, tock… 24 hours, Jamie… tick, tock…”, he still hears Patrick’s voice inside his dizzy mind.

“ … you die. Simple as that… you belong to us”

-          It’s impossible…, he’s moaning coughing with tears.

 

*

            At 8 P.M the light of the sun started to diminish.

            Jamie stays at the front door of the victim’s house, with his fingers clenched around the photography of the smiling boy " the target. With his vodka smelling breath, he’s waiting for the kid to come home from his football practice, like it was written on the back of the photo.

            In less than 10 minutes, the boy appeared at the end of the street, riding his blue bike. Jamie rings the bell, because he knows from the back of the photo that there’s nobody home. He rings the bell once more.

-          Can I help you, sir?, asks the boy smiling, stopping near Jamie.

-          Well, your parents asked me to come over…, says Jamie tossing the photo in his pocket.

-          What for?

-          They said…that…

Jamie coughs, interrupting his sentence.

-          Well?, asks the boy placing his bicycle near the front door.

-          They asked me to stay over the night here, because they can’t arrive home until tomorrow, replies Jamie with his heart quickly beating.

-          Then why did you ring the bell?

-          Well, I didn’t know if you arrived home already…

The boy pulls out his keys and unlocks the door.

-          Come in, says the kid smiling.

Feeling about to faint, Jaime walks through the door, holding tight the knife deepened into his pocket.

                       *

-     Could you please come here for a minute?, says Jamie from the bathroom, with his face covered in sweat.

“I can make it, I can make it, I can…. I don’t want to! But… I guess, I must… I can make it… no, I can’t…”

-          Sure, answers the boy.

Jamie’s hands are shaking, holding tight the sharpen knife, while his eyes are drowned in tears. From the wall, his bloody reflection in the mirror is staring scared at him.

The boy enters the bathroom but he didn’t get to say a word, because Jamie covered his mouth.

                       *

The boy is lying on the bathroom’s floor, with his mouth covered and hands tied by a pipe.

-          I’m sorry, grumbles Jamie coughing with tears.

Staring at the blade of the knife, Jamie is crying, with his heart madly beating. His sweaty hands are shaking, holding the sharpen weapon.

The kid’s flounder makes no sense. He’s moaning, with bitter tears washing his scarred face.

            Jamie is slowly approaching, touching the boy’s abdomen with the knife’s tip.

-          I hope that when you’ll get to heaven you’ll forgive me, little boy…, he whisper crying, with his right hand holding the boy’s neck.

Closing his eyes, Jamie pushes the knife into the boy’s stomach with all his power, accompanied by the painful humming of the crying kid. He feels the warm blood flowing down his fingers. Jamie is tearing the flesh, making his way to the beating, dying heart.

-          Oh my God!, he yells, feeling the warm, viscous guts on his hands. Oh my God!, he yelled once more with the blade deepened into the little boy’s chest. The words escaped out of his mouth just before the vomiting.

Jamie’s shaking hands are tearing out the heart, just before hearing the last kid’s breathe. With dirty, bitter tears racing down his cheeks, Jamie places the death heart into a plastic bag.

                       *

Waiting for the reassuring darkness of the night, Jamie kept washing his hands again and again, coughing with tears.

The bloody plastic bag is laying accuser on the floor.

“… tick, tock… 24 hours, Jamie… tick, tock…”

                                  

*

           

            Slamming the door behind him, Jamie enters his apartment. Hardly breathing, he rushes to the living room.

            He places the bag on the table, near the jar. Slowly taking off its lid, he keeps staring at the death heart. He places it in the jar, without taking it out of the bag. Only thinking about touching again the viscous organ makes his stomach revolt.

            Jaime puts the jar under the bed, where Patrick told him to. He lies on the bed, closing his tired eyes, waiting for a peaceful sleep, but knowing that bloody nightmares will haunt him during the night. And he wasn’t wrong at all. Red-eyed demons ran across his dizzy mind, but everything got even worse when he saw himself as a ruthless monster.

                                   *

           

 

            In the following morning Jamie woke up with his heart madly beating. He searched with his hands the jar under the bed, but there’s was nothing anymore.

-          Maybe it was just a nightmare…, he whispers turning his face to the mirror

His scared eyes are staring back at him from his bloody face. Jamie covers his eyes, screaming out his lungs.

 

                       *

Two weeks have passed until the knocking on the door invaded Jamie’s apartment for the second time.

-          Go away!, he yelled, but the man knocked again.

Slowly walking to the door, Jamie is holding tight his bottle of vodka. He opens the door and Patrick’s face smiles back at him.

-          I’m happy to see you again, Jamie. You did a great job last time, he says taking a seat on the couch.

-          I won’t kill anyone!, yells Jamie running his hand trough his hair.

Patrick laughs, taking out of the suitcase a photo of a woman.

-          Take a look, he says smiling.

            Jamie stares at the photo, taking a shot of vodka. With his shaking hand, he picks up the photo.

-          But…, grumbles Jamie feeling the sting of tears in his eyes.

-          I know, she’s beautiful, says Patrick lighting up a cigarette. I just can’t wait to see her heart, he laughs.

As the sun hides in grey clouds, Jamie empties the bottle with a single swallow with his eyes fixed on the photography. The redheaded woman is constantly smiling back at him, holding tight a brown puppy.

-          Please… I don’t want this anymore…, whispers Jamie closing his tired eyes.

-          This is my favorite part, laughs Patrick.

-          I beg you!, shouts Jamie kneeling in from of him.

The middle-aged man ruffles Jamie’s hair, with a sick grin on his face.

-          I can’t do anything for you, kid. That’s it, he says. You have 24 hours to place her heart into the jar.

-          Get out, says Jamie lifting up.

-          Do or die, whispers Patrick leaving.

Jamie closes the door behind the man. Suddenly, a smile brightens up his pale face.

                       *

“I’m not going to be a monster”, he says to himself opening the window.

            From the 10^th floor, Jamie stares down at the grey sidewalk. The cold breeze of the nigh is caressing his sweaty face.

            “This night I’ll find out if I can fly”.

He smiles, stepping out of the window.

What looked like a second, Jamie felt like a lifetime. The wind cared him to the ground in his sweet embrace. Crying, he closed his eyes, hitting the soil.

Jamie felt a huge pain, but just for a trice. His body smashed, turning to a mass of broken bones and bloody flesh, but finally he was free. Finally, he could sleep again. An ocean of nothing surrounded him for a moment, but then he saw it " the bright light. It was the most beautiful thing he has even seen. Its warm light reminded him of home.

The last thing he heard was a grating caterwaul.

                       

                       *

The bright light wakens him up. Jamie touches him chest, his face. Looking around, he sees again the bedroom, with his floor covered in beer and vodka bottles, underwear, and papers.

-          No…, he whispers. This cannot be real, he starts crying.

“You cannot escape, Jamie. There’s no way out”, he hears Patrick’s voice inside of his head.

-          Get out!, he yells covering his ears.

“If you want to die… then you’ll not. But the punishment you’ll have to endure is unimaginable.”, whispers the voice.

-          Please, kill me…, cries Jamie. Let me reach the light…

“You’ll never reach it, Jamie. Look at yourself. A monster, that’s what you are. A soulless monster. Next time, be careful what you wish for”.

-          Lies!, he shouts with closed eyes.

A huge pain travels his right arm. Jamie hears a bone breaking.

“And this is nothing”.

Screaming out his lungs, Jamie looks as his arm regenerating, just before being left breathless for a moment.

“Nobody can hear you, Jamie”.

-          Stop it, please…, he whispers with his fingers wrapped around his neck.

“Be careful what you wish for”, repeats the voice. Patrick’s laughter invades Jamie’s head.

Crying, he realizes he cannot remember how the light looked like. All he remembers is its warmth.

-          Home…, he whispers among bitter tears.

 

 

End.