The contract – Chapter twelve

When was the last time he felt the sun on his body? How long has it been since the warmth of the spring sun embraced him? A week? A month? A day?! His mind couldn’t make a difference between days and nights, clearly not on the time itself. Could it be summer outside? Winter? His scrabbled brain still fought with the idea that so much time had passed. Suna was rocking his body, in the same place he was hours ago, in the side corner of the room, close to that fake window he hated. He looked nowhere in particular, his eyelids half open. If there was something he missed, was the sun that he usually felt on his arms, when he left work. By 6 o’clock, the sun was still sharing his final rays, getting ready to set behind the tall building. The memory of that light made him smile. Sunali stretched his arms, imagining himself soaking the sun. Soaking the sun… “Here comes the summer’s sun…/ He burns my skin…/ I ache again/ I’m over you…(over you…)/ I thought I had a dream to hold/Maybe that has gone… Your hand reach out and touch me still…/ But this feel so wrong”. Just like when he was a child, the singing helped him cover the fear. His fear of his own thoughts – but not even the scariest of them compared to the recurring image of Christine’s dead body, lying on the street, in a pool of blood. Just like the one in his room. He was shaking his head and singing whatever cheerful song would pop up in his head. “Here comes the summer’s sun…” Then, in a split second, he would hear her voice again, repeating the same words she had last said.

Shut up, Christine… Please, shut up… Mhmmmm… “Here comes the summer’s sun”… Mhmmm... The singing man was closed inside an empty room; the room was in a distraught man’s head and took up all the empty space; that scared little man himself was put inside a random room, that was inside a panicked tiny man’s head, who was waiting inside a bloody room… And so on. Whatever space was left, was taken by the forced memory of his past lover. The ghostly figure of the woman who had loved a tiny man.

The magazines left by the door started to pile up, without him noticing. There were just a few, last time he paid them any attention. Gradually, the pile became bigger and bigger, almost impossible to try and pass through the door. Their now yellowish color made you think of a chain smoker that had puffed over them day after day. Has it been a week? A month? A day?! Even his bloody foot print changed its color, turned to dark red. The pieces of glass were scattered around the table and chair. There is nobody here, but me… Nobody, but me…

Hey, you, Mister Sunali…. She smiled to him, tucking her hair behind her ear. She was wearing large green earrings, that sparkled in the lights. The room itself disappeared and he could only see her radient face. Christine, my love, you are here…

You keep calling for me, Mister. I just had to finally show up on you, don’t you think?

You came to see me, baby… Even if all that’s left of me, is a big mess. Well, a bigger one…

Let me guess: Helen put you up to this. That Hell-en-Cunt… You’ve never done this before, Suna. Why do you keep adding poison to you body? First was booze, now drugs… What will you do next? Do you want to kill yourself?

No… I just wanted to see you again. Even if only in my hallucinations, on my floor. Why did you have to go, Christine?

Her glowing smile faded. Don’t you remember, she asked. Don’t you remember what you did to me?

Sunali didn’t want to hear those words. Refused to hear her talk like that. He covered his ears and began to hum another tune. Did you forget what you did to me, Mister Sunali? He couldn’t face her now dark face, her frown look and angry voice. It was not my fault, Christine! I didn’t want you to die! It was not my fault!

It’s on you, Sunali! My blood – is on you! He felt his hands become colder and when he opened his eyes to look at them, they were all red. It wasn’t me… It wasn’t me! Go away, Christine! Fucking go away! Helen shook him hard, getting him back from his hallucinations. Her phone was on the floor, set on “record”. Disoriented, a half naked Sunali looked around to discover he was back in his own apartment, with his Monstera by his side and an opened window. The sun was up, the pigeons were noisy and it was another morning in his home. Helen was there, too. Are you okay, Suna?

Helen?… Is that you, he asked, touching her face.

Jesus, you really had a bad shroom trip, my friend. This is the only time I do this with you. Ralph told me to watch you, since is your first time, but – dude. You flipped out over here, she laughed. In a Suna kinda way, you know? Wanna see? I have it on my pho… Sunali jumped in her arms, hugged her tighter than ever before. Wow, wow, that’s new. Were you really that… gone? You wanna talk about it?

Sunali was shaking while tears touched his face. He had a huge smile, to Helen’s surprise. No, I don’t want to talk about it, Hell. I don’t want to talk about a-ny-thing! I am just so fucking happy! He hugged her even tighter, smelling her “My way” perfume. I’ve never been this happy to see your face, Hell, I swear. And never, so hungry. Let’s go eat something. Let’s have the biggest fucking breakfast we ever had! She was puzzled about this new attitude, but didn’t question it. Let’s eat all the crap we can get our hands on, she laughed. Her green earrings were moving in perfect sync with her body, giving her a dreamy look.

Whatever you do, Helen, just delete those fucking recordings, okay? Don’t share them and don’t how me. I just want to forget this night all together. Not waiting for an answer, Helen showed him the phone, selected two recordings and pressed the “Delete” button. Happy now?

Never been happier, he answered on his way to the toilet.

Good to see your bladder hasn’t changed…

I heard that, Helen! This was the craziest trip he had ever been on. He got drunk before, but never had so vivid hallucinations like now. While he was taking a piss, Sunali was feeling himself just as you would after a very real and scary nightmare. He felt relieved for all the shit that just ended. Fuck the money! Fuck the hungry part. Screw seeing ghosts! It was all a freaking trip on shrooms, that for sure, he will not repeat. As he was looking at the wall, happy to release himself, a thought hit him: how did his fantasy self know about the recording Helen had done in real life? He couldn’t see the future and all. Neah, that’s bullshit. Stop overthinking it. He shook his head and flushed the toilet. But then another though made its way to his little head – when did Helen start wearing those green earrings again? She never wore them before or after that day, at “La Bistro”. Why would she wear them again? The day when Christine… No, I’m not gonna think bout it.

What are you doing in there, Suna? Are we going to eat… or go on another trip? Hahaha, mine was good, by the way. The trip, I mean.

Oh, yeah? I was worried there for a second you tried to call Ralph on me, while I was.. off, he joked.

Worry is a waste of imagination. Grab your jacket and let’s go…

Frozen in his feet, Sunali watched Helen up close. What did you say?

What?

Where did you hear that from? You couldn’t have known this… Where did you hear that from?

Jesus, Suna, calm down! Who can keep up with you these days? One second you’re hugging me like I am your mother, next minut you shout at me for no reason…

Helen – where did you hear that? She looked at him dearly. Just like a mother, she put her hands on her hips and tilted her head, letting her earrings dingle by her neck.

Oh, Suna, you’re always so dramatic, you know that? Should I say I read it somewhere online? Yeah, I mean I could – I could say that. Should I lie that I came up with it? I could say that also. But what if I say I read it on a wall, somewhere? On a wall, in a building, by reception. What would you feel about that, Sunali? But then again, how could I say that, if I haven’t been there… yet? She was playing with her earrings, smiling away, as the bright sun hit her face.

What the fuck is going on?

You have signed a contract, Mister Sunali. Do you feel like you respected it? As she was talking, her soft voice changed, becoming more still, more digitalized. It sounded more and more like Cratos’s voice.

Scared, Sunali dropped to the floor. He couldn’t understand what was happening in front of his eyes. The wound on his foot reappeared (has it ever disappeared?) and demented, he began to shake uncontrolably. What is happening to me? What is happening to me?

You haven’t fulfilled your contract yet, Mister Sunali. You consider yourself to be quite inteligent, and yet you can’t comprehend the simple act of what is happening to you right now. Helen’s body started to move unlike her. Similar to a robot, her moves became more rigid, looking very unnatural. Helen looked as herself, but there’s where the resemblance ended. Helen – was no longer Helen.

Leave me alone! All of you, leave me alone!

Is the truth dramatic to you?

Leave me THE FUCK ALONE! He shouted scared out of his mind. He didn’t open his eyes as “Helen” was getting closer to him, his mind unable to process anything. So he did what he knew better: he started rocking his body, not looking, not hearing, just singing his lungs out. “HERE COMES THE SUMMER’S SUN/ IT NURNS MY SKIN/ HERE COMES THE SUMMER SUUUUUN”…

Sunali’s body started to feel different. He, again started to feel the unquenchable hunger, as he was rocking back and forth. His squeezed eyelids couldn’t see the orange circles of light anymore; now it was all dark. He could feel things changing around him. Under his skin, a soft fabric was touching his butt and legs. The voice was no longer talking to him. Nobody was talking anymore. He felt all alone, once more. As he opened his eyes, he came to the horrible conclusion that he was back in his imprisonment. His sun-less, bird-less, Helen-less empty room. The recording camera was still watching his every move, just as before. So did the emptied bottles of beer and the broken glasses from the floor.

No, oh my God, please no! No, no, no, he pleaded. Desperate, Sunali jumped from his mattress and started to bang the walls. He ran to the front door, pushing the pile of magazines and scratch cards away from his way. He tried opening the door, but it wouldn’t move. Pushed the magazines as far away as he could, and started hitting the door aggressively, with his foot. The wound began bleeding again, unimportant to Sunali. Let me out! Let me the fuck out of here! He banged harder and harder with his fists, still nobody came. He put his ear to the door and tried to listen. Carefully. Not – a – sound. Convinced there has to be a faster way out of there, he started banging on the trap door also. It should at least slide a little bit or something. I want out, you hear me? I don’t want your prizes anymore, you son of a bitch! Just get me out of here!

No door was opened. And no voice was answering.

Sunali was heavily panting. The lack of sleep, food and light made him feel exhausted. His limbs were shivering. Everywhere around him, was blood from the wound. He allowed his body colaps, trying to fill his lungs with air. He didn’t even care he had pissed himself. What… what do I… do now?

The Universe was silent.

The contract – Chapter thirteen

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