The contract – Chapter ten

“Well, she walked up to my quarter liiiight and she bent down real sloooow/ A fearful pressure paralyzed me in my shadooooows (Oh yeah…)/ She said (What did she say?) Son, what are you doing here? My fear for you has turned me in my grave (my grave, your grave, baby)/ I said: Mama, I come to the valley of the rich, myself to seeeeell/ She said: Son (yeah, son), this is the road to hell…”. Another empty beer bottle on the floor and an intoxicated Sunali sang his lungs out. Christiiiine, come and tell me, is this my road to hell? Come and talk to me, my love.

His appearance had drastically changed since Christine saw him. If he had had a mirror now, the reflection staring back at him would have been disturbing, unrecognizable even to himself. His eyes pushed back to the back of his head, with shaggy hair covering whatever his beard couldn’t. An unaware, unhinged stare, that was in fact not looking anywhere in particular. Sunali’s tight skin covered his flesh, but couldn’t hide his sharp ribs, that were more visible. Eyes on the prize, he would tell himself over and over, when times got tough. With lack of food and sun, times were always tough. By this point, he couldn’t even tell what the prize was, anymore. The beer appeared, just as the rest of the items did, at the front of his door. Sunali didn’t care enough to investigate more about hidden traps and encrypted hums and messages. He just saw something familiar to him and decided to grab it. A cure for my headache, he thought. Or did he say it? Were his words even trapped in his brain, at this point? Or was he talking out loud for the new audience? The first cold beer he grabbed, had those sweat drops he was yearning for. He put it to his head and close his eyes. For a split second, everything around him vanished, the door, the walls, the sounds and fear, the people and the loneliness. First gulp was heaven. Second one was home. Who counted all the rest that followed? He snatched the pack and set it on the ground, by his mattress and his feet. My god, Cratos, I must have done something really swell to get such a gift! Making a toast at the camera, Sunali soon emptied the first bottle. Do you know what this tastes like? Like home.

I am glad you enjoy it, Mr. Sunali.

Oh, there you are, you sneaky bastard. You really did me a solid right now, you know? I think you grew a crush on me, Cratos, and now you just want to make me happy. Is that it, he asked.

If you are asking if the task was done successfully, the answer is “no”. You have not finished it. Days have passed and we have noticed a lack in your focus. Thus, you are missing out of your rewards.

It doesn’t look like it, Cratos, buddy old pall, Sunali said and took another refreshing gulp of his cool beer.

…However, the digital voice continued, since your motivation is not at your highest level, we took it upon ourselves to give you an incentive, a little reminder of what you could be missing. It is up to you to concentrate more on your future tasks. Remember – there is no guarantee that this generosity will be repeated.

Sunali was paying attention to his own voice singing Chris Rea’s song, than on what he was being told. Obviously, he replied. not knowing what or if there was a question. A short wink to the camera and he continued singing. “…and the perverted fear of violence/ Chokes a smile on every face/ And common sense is ringing out the bells/ This ain’t no technological breakdown/ Oh no, this is the road… to hell…” Do you guys know this song or is this generation doomed? Fucking hell, I sound like my father, with this generational crap. Oh Jesus, I just realized my father might be watching this… Ha haha, hi, dad! Look at me! I made it! I’m on TV. I told you I will be somebody, on day! Call me “Mister Sunali”, you dumb fucks! Have I told you, he asked, looking at the camera, that my own family didn’t believe in me at all? Yeah, no, I am for real. What kind of family turns their back on you, when you need them? I’ll tell you who! My own goddamn family, that’s who! Bastards… All I needed was a small investment in my ideas… You know what? Fuck ’em. Look at me now. His lanky, naked body was taking bows at a hidden audience, I will walk out of here a wealthy man. I’ll show them I can do this shit myself.

…so proud of you…

Sunali dropped the bottle on the floor, that crashed with a strong bang. Startled, he started looking around the room, as if there was more than he could see. Did you hear that? He kneeled in front of the camera and looked straight in the camera: did you hear that? For what seemed to be forever, nothing moved in there, not even his own lungs. A frozen image for the audience, a panic settled in his own mind. There it is again! What the fuck is going on? Jumping around the room, pressing his ears to the walls, so he would listen to silent voices that nobody else heard. Baby, are you here? Stop messing with me and just let me see you… His voice lowered when he saw blood stains on the floor. His heart shrunk half its size and the back of his neck got chills. Slowly, he followed their trace. Another stain, then another… Taking a look around the whole room, Sunali realized the blood stains were all over the floor. And they traced back to his own foot. He didn’t even noticed the shattered glass from the bottle, had pierced his foot. A sharp pain began as soon as realized. Fuck, fuck, fuck… He sat on the chair and tried to remove whatever pieces he could find. Or feel. He couldn’t much see in that dim light what he was doing, but he managed to remove two bigger pieces of glass. The more he focused, the more his sight got blurry. He hard blinked twice, but the image still didn’t improved. The drunken state wouldn’t allow him to really concentrate on his own wound. Sunali’s body was wiggling on top of the chair and he was doing his best to keep it still. The corner of his eye caught a glimpse of a shadow, a shadow that was not there before. With half closed eyes, Sunali tried to get the courage to look at it. His chest was on fire, but all he could feel was freezing cold on his spine. When he finally stared at the corner, he could see something. His blurred vision couldn’t distinguish what it was, but for sure, minutes ago, was not there.

Christine?…

The shadow didn’t move. It held its ground. A dark corner spot, by his mattress, that didn’t make sense to be there. Gradually, the shadow grew just a little bit bigger. And a little bit more. Gently, the shadow slid inch by inch closer to him. Unknown to him, Sunali had tears in his eyes. No blink, no breath. Just his heart giving him away that he was still alive. In front of him, the shadow waited. Waited to be recognized. A lovely shape came to form, of a woman with beige jacket and blonde hair. Without moving a muscle, Sunali felt the presence to be familiar to him. The faceless woman tilted her head and he calmed himself down. It was the lady from the magazine! He knew her. He knew her intimately. He remembered her red lingerie he felt on his lips and her smell, from his imagination… He felt freed. Oh shame, of desire, of loneliness… He could feel the face was smiling at him, even if there was no face. Slowly, the woman started to move sensually and began to open her jacket. The boner in his pants was confusing even to him. Sunali didn’t want to handle all these emotions, anymore. Her hand wiped his tear and moved closely to his face. In front of him, the woman’s face started to move and morph… I am so proud of you… The half naked woman in front of him was smiling with visible red lips, now and bushy brows. Sunali expected this moment for so long… But the face was Helen’s.

Scared, Sunali stood up and push the shadow away from him. He forgot once more about the pain in his foot, and looked around. There was nobody there, but him. Panting like crazy, Sunali didn’t understand what was happening. The blood stains on the floor looked dried up. The glass was still there, but the shadow was gone. What the hell is happening? Refusing to collapse, Sunali dragged himself to the bathroom, passing by the new stack of magazines left at the door and went straight into the shower to wash his feet. His vision did not improve a lot, but he needed a distraction to whatever the hell his mind was setting him up to. He rubbed his thumb over the wound to see if there were any other pieces of glass and washed it. After he rolled toilet paper over the scar, he sat on the toilet, confused about what was happening to him. Am I going crazy? Is this going to be another episode like the one I had with Helen?… Am I going to lose my mind? The dried blood didn’t make sense to him, knowing he only cut himself recently. How long did it pass? How long have I been here? With the corner of his eye, he could see those freaking magazines, that he started to hate.

Nobody was in the room. One more peak around the corner and for sure, he was alone again.

More tired than anything, Sunali accepted the he had to go to sleep. He crawled back to his mattress and threw his blanked on his face, imagining he was back in his normal apartment, in his normal bed. Why am I here? His mind was racing against his will. Why am I still here?… His head was thinking of the song, Road to hell. What did it make Rea write that song? What hell he must have put himself through to write such a song? Sunali started thinking about Christine, about the fact that he really missed her. Even if he didn’t say it that much. Her ghostly presence would have been a relief to him, especially now. I need you to help me again, baby… To be close to me… I need to get through this. Her image as she had last seen her, was looping in his mind. The colorful earrings that she sometimes forgot on his night stand, were her trademark. Her kisses on his neck were her shows of affection. And her sticking around him for so long, was her empathy. The guilt part that he felt about her death was less acknowledged, less given importance to. Sunali thought more about her carrying ways, remembering the affection he received and how much he needed that back again,now.

She had a way of coming to him whenever he craved her the most. I need you again, he would repeat himself, trying to fall asleep. If he thought longer and harder, his mind would not confuse faces anymore, he thought. I’m too drunk, Christine. I’m sorry I scared you away, he thought to himself. You never liked me this way, I know. I’m going through a lot of shit, you must understand me… It wasn’t her who I wanted, Christine. It wasn’t Helen who I needed… It was always you…

Half asleep and half beer-soaked, he couldn’t tell anymore if he was dreaming or not. Could be that his prayers got finally answered and Christine came back to him. But he could feel a presence hoovering over the blanket, close to his face. You’re here. Too scared to find out it could be just a dream, Sunali didn’t remove the blanket. A soft humming was coming from above. A feminine hum, tenderly singing a song to soothe him down. Just as he had done to her, when she got nervous. Hummmmm…. Mmmmmmm… He didn’t want to close his eyes anymore. The soft voice lowered itself to Sunali’s ear. Hmmmm mmmmm… Hummmmm…. You fucking liar!

The contract – Chapter eleven