Rock Hill, NY ||| February 14, 2023
(off camera)
The wind was cool when he slipped outside, the breeze a blessing as it passed over his feverish skin, turning sweat to ice. Closing his eyes, Sev pulled a deep breath into his lungs. It was crisp. Clean. No traces of the pollution they'd left behind when they'd fled Manhattan for greener pastures. The old wood creaked in protest as he pulled the door shut, pushing the stubborn and rusted hasp back down over the loop before securing the brand-new padlock. He'd found the outbuilding a few weeks before, hidden by deadfall that had taken a few days to clear. Inside, he'd found a carpenter's dream. Tools. An industrial table saw. Reclaimed lumber stacked in the corner. Technically, it was on their acreage, but he hadn't seen any mention of it among the deeds. It felt a little like providence, to discover it at a time when he needed it most.
He could smell blood. On his hands. Inside his nostrils. Haunting every waking thought, slippery slick, and glittering like precious rubies in the sunlight. Blood for blood. An eye for an eye, as old school Biblical as it could be and now that the euphoria was fading, now that the monstrous urges had retreated into the depths of his broken psyche, he felt the icy fingers of dread crawling down his spine.
Muddy red stained the lines in his hands, burrowing deep into the crevices and calluses. He would need to shower, would need to take extra care.
There was nothing around for miles – not that he was worried about sound carrying. The walls were reinforced, soundproofed by the previous owner. He'd left a window open in the hopes that his handiwork wouldn't start to smell before he had time to return. If an animal found its way inside and helped to dispose of the evidence, even better.
The half-inch crust of ice on the dead grass crackled under his feet as he headed back towards the house. He'd wasted enough time today on vengeance. He knelt near the tree, picking up the strap attached to the sledge that had come with the house. It was piled with thicker limbs of the deadfall – he'd cut a few chords of wood before starting on dinner. He had a few hours to kill and the thirst for violence hadn't yet been slaked. Perhaps in time. He could only hope.
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Justin York is chasing ephemeral glory. One foot out the door, yet he clings to the illusion of one last hurrah, crossing names off a bucket list. I envy his courage. To stray outside the usual orbit, expanding.
For years now scientists have theorized about how the universe works. Einstein. Hawking. Big brains, vast ideas; they are still just theories. There are corners of this universe that have not been seen by mortal eyes. There are things that we thought were true and are later disproven. Pluto was a planet when I was a boy. Some believe that the universe is ever-expanding, that it will grow until every star and planet are so far apart that journeying from one place to the next will become impossible, and we will be completely isolated, alone in a vast void of nothingness. What do you think of that?
I find comfort in the idea.
Isolation. Solitude. A perfectly planned path? Yes, please. My distaste for others in this business continues to grow by leaps and bounds. Alienation seems sweet as honey. I am sick of being used. Being let down. Being trod upon.
Others believe the universe expands and contracts in cycles. I can see this. I believe it has already begun, that our universe has stopped expanding into the infinite and has begun to retreat in on itself, squishing down tighter and tighter until everything is ultimately obliterated in the Big Crush. There will be nothing for a while, a blink of an eye and then another Big Bang will start it all over again. The thought of that inevitable doom brings me a sort of joy I cannot explain. Perhaps then, I will be able to rest. It cannot happen soon enough.
For Justin York, though, it is a matter of days.
The airwaves are silent, even though our plucky would-be hero has three matches stacked in a row. Perhaps he is at peace with the end? No last words.
So be it.
I have other things on my mind. I have an angel weeping because I did nothing to save my so-called partner Joe Montuori from injury. I have the devil whispering in my ear, beckoning for me to join some wicked cause I do not yet understand. Oh, but they paint a lovely picture. The Aylas claim they want to save this company from itself.
The only trouble is that I only see the vast potential of a universe that has not been fully explored.
Expanding.
Contracting.
Imminent destruction.
Even the Big Bang had a catalyst, did it not?
There are no GODS left for you to slay. Olympus is nothing more than mythos now. We are all mortal. We bleed and can be broken. YOU can be broken. Perhaps this is a lesson that needs to be impressed?
I am not a stopgap on the road to anyone's glorious finale.
I. Am. More.
Woe to anyone who wishes to cross me now. I will NOT be merciful.
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Rock Hill, NY ||| February 14, 2023
(off camera)
Sev awoke to the softness of a hand gently stroking his cheek. His breath caught in his throat, involuntary betrayal in that moment between sleep and awake. He didn't need to open his eyes to know who it was. No one had ever touched him the way she had. He breathed in slowly, letting his mind clear – the nap hadn't been intentional. He'd sat down to wait for her after setting the table. Clearly, he was more exhausted than he'd believed. Shifting, he felt the ache in his shoulders and arms, barely stifling the groan that escaped his lips.
She handed him a cup of coffee as he sat up, idly scratching the crease in his cheek from the arm of the couch.
He said nothing, bringing the coffee to his lips. It was strong and thick, heaven laced with caffeine, and it drew an immediate contented sigh from between his lips. The sweetness of honey was there in the aftertaste, cloying to his tongue to chase the bitterness away, and it struck him speechless in that moment. The little things meant so much. She knew how he liked his coffee. She knew that he would drink it even at night, that it was an old, ingrained ritual. She had never asked him to explain it. She just understood that it was just one of the idiosyncrasies that made Sev unique.
His eyes widened as the thought dawned on him – had he slept through the timer and ruined their dinner? As if she knew his thoughts, she let out a small laugh. "There's a half hour left. Don't worry. I didn't peek."
He was wearing nothing more than an undershirt and workout shorts – his dress clothes were on the bed still, neatly pressed, and ready for tonight. He'd planned to surprise her, to have candles lit and dinner on the table before she'd come home and now, he felt a strange sort of anxiety to have the plans coming undone.
"I would not mind if you had," even as he said it, he felt a twinge of remorse. "Nothing worse than the smell of overcooked meat."
LJ moved to sit down next to him, watching as he took another sip from his favorite mug. She seemed in better spirits than she had been when she'd left. He felt a strange sense of pride at that, knowing that his Valentine's gift was at least well-received.
"How was the spa?"
She sighed, resting her head against his shoulder. "Heavenly. I didn't know a massage could feel so good." Lifting her head, she placed a soft kiss on his cheek as she slid an arm through his. "Next time, you're coming with me."
"Glad you had a good time." The words came out stilted, stripped of emotion – it was obvious his mind was a million miles away. He was looking towards the dining table, the unlit candles and the heart-themed centrepiece feeling so strange and out of place now. He kept seeing blood welling up, kept hearing those muffled screams. With effort, he shook his head, tried to focus on the present. "I am sorry for the delay. My timing was off. I thought you would not be back until–"
"I skipped getting my nails done." There was lightness in her tone, a thread of joy that turned into a mischievous giggle. "I wanted to get back sooner. Because… I have a surprise for you, Sev."
"You do?" He was genuinely surprised when he looked down at her, the ghost of a smile curving his lips and making his eyes sparkle. Instantly, his mood was boosted.
"I do," she said, her face beaming with a smile. LJ reached into her purse and pulled out a plain white envelope. "I stopped by my doctor's office today and got this." She cleared her throat, an onset of emotions ready to take over. "Our baby's gender is in here. I thought we could find out tonight? If you want."
And just like that, nothing else mattered. Not revenge. Not the demons screaming in his mind or the exhaustion that dragged at his leaden limbs. A joyous smile crossed his lips as he stared at that simple white rectangle in her hand, knowing that the most important secret in the universe was contained therein. "Yes." He found himself nodding, "oh
yes. I want this. Very much."
