til_it_aint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
til_it_aint) wrote2010-03-11 10:43 pm
til_it_aint) wrote2010-03-11 10:43 pm
(no subject)
It starts with th'dreams.
They come back, hard, makin' him wake up covered in sweat, gaspin' for air, feelin' the sick burning pain that is no legs, they get him hearin' explosions when there ain't none, they get so that every time he closes his eyes he sees the preacher-man smilin' while blood runs from the mouths of thousands of people, all of 'em takin' the razor blades and swallowin' them like lies.
He stays out of the bar, but that don't help. He drinks 'till he's staggerin' but that don't help neither, just makes it worse with th'hangover on top'a everythin' else. And that's when he thinks back to last time it got this bad, last time he was thinkin' 'bout just jumpin' in the goddamn lake and takin' a breath 'cause anythin' would be better, and that's when he remembers last time and th'door.
He don't go until night, but when he's finally in th'bar again he don't even have to go near it. The confessional door gapes open, shows the light of the church, but somehow he knows that even when he goes through and it shuts that Hack Scudder, well.
He ain't there. If he ever was.
-
He sleeps the night under th'truck they use t'haul Colussus, wakes next mornin' with the dreams still rattlin' around his brain, like they're tryin' t'tell him something. Ain't much for him to do and he wanders, mostly, 'till he sees Samson sittin' by the lead truck, watchin' the road.
He goes to him, doesn't know exactly why, sits down hard on the ground, sucks his teeth. Samson stays quiet for a good long while, but finally he looks down, says "Remember what I told you, kid."
He remembers. Told him he had t'trust someone, Lodz or him, but Ben thinks 'bout a bar and a sweet face and all them strangers he knows now what seen him in th'dark times, those he c'n put at least some trust in, who knows what he sees. In the end he hauls himself up, spits, and turns away from th'dwarf.
"I trust someone," he says, but he goes before Samson can ask 'cause he's a goddamn coward and he don't want to have t'try and explain.
-
Jonesy turns up an hour or so later, in a right state, pissed as hell and demandin' they move the cootch tent. There's complainin' from almost all but Ben, so Jonesy tosses him the states and th'sledgehammer and tells him t'get a fuckin' move on.
It's hot, hard word and he's lost callus already, from the Bar. Thinks that if, when he goes back, he's gotta keep himself busy somehow 'cause it ain't good, feelin' tired this early. He's gotta be able t'work if he ever wants t'pay off his bartab.
He's readyin' for another swing when Lila walks behind him, wolf-whistles under her breath and he scrubs a hand over his face, embarrassed 'cause he thinks he knows what this is.
"Noticed a little swagger in your walk today," she purrs, lookin' far too damn happy with herself. "Wonder why that is?"
He don't rise to it, and she continues. "Could it be...someone got his gun cleaned?"
Ben tries not to let it show, but he don't think it works, not exactly. He bends over, pickin' up the sledgehammer again, mumbles "Dunno what you're talkin' about."
He swings, hits the pin straight on, but she's still talkin'. "Don't be shy, everybody knows. No secrets 'round here."
Everyone knows, she says, and fuck. He grimaces, puts the hammer down for a moment, tells himself it ain't like he didn't know it was gonna happen but fuck he didn't want that. And now she's just rubbin' it in his face, like she wants him t'react.
"I'm tryin' t'work," he mutters, hopes it's harsh enough but she don't seem to care.
"How was she?" Without pause, "Grateful, I imagine." She sidles closer, 'till he can smell the sick-sweet perfume she uses. "Always kinda hoped I'd, ah - be the one t'pick that cherry."
And she looks down, at him, gives him th'look that say she knows exactly how he's feelin' and he takes a breath, another, knows he can't fuckin' rise to this, can't give her cause so he just says "I'm workin'," again, prayin' this time it'll work and it does, 'cause she turns to leave and he's just relaxin' when she's at his back again.
"You get tired of Grandma," she whispers, "you come to Lila," and then she's gone, sashaying off like a peacock and Ben's back t'poundin' the stakes like he's thinkin' each one's got a beard and blue eyes.
-
He don't sleep that night, neither. Every time he gets close somethin' drags him out, hard, 'till finally he just walks it off, smokes hard, tries to ignore the crawlin' feelin' in his stomach, his back, like there's somethin' wrong just outside what he c'n see.
He's over by the cook tent when Gabe catches him, and he knows from th'moment he sees his face that somethin's wrong. Real wrong. And Gabriel, he ain't makin' sense, babblin' 'bout Ruthie sleepin' and not wakin' up and he follows him quick, just about jumps the steps into the trailer calling "Ruthie?" and praying she'll answer but he knows, he knows she won't.
She's lyin' on the bed, cold, still, blue on her lips and his heart seizes hard inside him. Gabe's crying out that she ain't breathin' and she ain't, he knows, fingers on her neck and he can't feel a goddamn pulse and this can't be happenin', ain't happenin', it's a nightmare except it isn't and she's here and dead under his hands and he don't know how to fix this.
Her hair's down, it coils in his hand. Gabe's snifflin' behind him, but Ben's just starin' at her hair, how it feels on his fingers, rememberin' soft hair before and a kitten, mewing, three days after his ma had put it in the grave.
He does know how to fix this.
He manages to get Gabe t'pick her up, and somehow they get her through Carnivale without bein' seen, stuffin' her in the Chevy. Ben closes the door, moves to the driver's side, breathin' hard 'cause a kitten's a kitten but this, this is Ruthie.
Gabe wipes tears off his face, calls out "Where're you takin' her?" and Ben don't know what to say so he don't explain.
"Just wait here, okay?" He can feel th'breath catchin in his throat, desperate, frantic, "It'll be okay." It'll be okay. It's gotta be. Can't not. Gabe's still lookin' lost so he takes precious seconds and leans towards him.
"Remember how I fixed your arm? I'll fix her.Just stay here, and don't talk to nobody, y'hear me?" Gabe nods, silent, and "I'll be back," Ben promises, turns the key and thank Christ the engine roars t'life on the first try.
He drives way out, too fast, weavin' over the road 'cause when he hits bumps and she jerks it's like she's still alive. When they hit corn he keeps goin', till he can't see a thing for the fields, then he stops and grabs her, carryin' her out and laying her down in the headlight beams.
So still, no breath, no pulse, but he can't goddamn think about that or what farm's about to go under 'cause this is Ruthie and that's all that goddamn matters so he puts his hands on her chest, bends his head, reaches out inside him t'the corn and pushes...
But Ruthie's still lyin' there, still, cold, not movin' and the corn waves tall in the night wind, and it's gotta work, it's gotta. "C'mon," he manages through the gasping breaths that aren't tears because he damn well won't let them be, "Hey, c'mon," but nothin' happens, nothin' at all and the corn rustles like laughter and he bends his head and clenches his teeth because this is. Not. Happening.
One last time, and he shakes her, hands on her shoulders, her face, "Ruthie," muttering and there's desperation in his voice but he don't even care enough t'be embarrassed, "c'mon, Ruthie, Ruthie please, please," goin' back to her chest, hands on her breast-bone, "C'mon!"
But.
There's nothin'.
There's not a goddamn' thing.
"Please," he whispers and he's cryin' now, cryin' hard and he don't even care, not a bit, "please, please, Ruthie," but she just lies there cold and still and this time, when he puts his head on her shoulder and lets the sobs come spillin' out she ain't there to touch him just right.
-
He brings her back. Feels like a dream, everythin' too slow, too dark, too quiet. He pulls the battered old Chevy in, right t'the trailer, where Gabe's standin' waitin' like a statue. He can't think of nothin' t'say but he's gotta, he's gotta, so in the end he mutters "Put'er inside," and stumbles behind the car t'prop his hand on the bumper and puke.
By th'time it's over Gabe's inside, and he moves over t'the steps, sits down hard like he ain't sure there's gonna be somethin' beneath him and lights up a smoke with shakin' fingers. It's half-gone when Gabe comes out again, most of it just ash in the wind, and he stands quick like maybe she's come to while he's been here.
But she ain't, 'course not, so he just looks down. "She in bed like I told'ya?" Gabe nods, silent. "Draw the shades?" Another nod. Ben takes a hard drag on the smoke, coughs, shakes his head and mutters "Siddown here," 'cause he's gotta be strong, for Ruthie, so he can fix this.
"Listen," he says, leanin' over the strongman, tryin' to talk like he thinks it'll be okay even though he knows it won't, "anybody comes by here, you tell 'em your momma's sleepin', and she don't wanna be waked up. Don't let nobody in 'till I tell you different. Not even Samson. Nobody."
Gabe's just lookin' at him and snifflin', and Ben's stomach turns, knows he's gotta make this stick somehow. "Can't muck this up. You do - we ain't friends no more." Gabe's cryin' gets louder and he curses in his head, changes tune.
"Hey. Don't worry, just...remember and we're Dutch." There's tears streakin' down his face and Ben pulls a faded handkerchief outta his pocket, offers it over 'cause he can't stand the sight, don't want t'see it, can't. He don't give Gabe a chance t'give it back neither, just turns and head off, for the person he knows has gotta have some goddamn answers.
-
He stands in front'a Lodz, on the steps, throws a glance at Lila that should tell her exactly what he thinks'a her, then looks back at the blindman. "I gotta talk to you," he says, "alone."
Lila protests but Lodz yells, gets her out in a goddamn hurry and Ben's left with just him and that boiled-egg eyed sumbitch but Ben needs help, goddamn it, and so that's what he says.
"What sort of help?"
"It's Ruthie." He c'n feel the panic in him, risin' hard, fast. "One of her snakes got out, and she got, got bit. She's-" and he can't say it, he can't goddamn say it.
Lodz looks confused. "She's unwell? Ill?"
But he's gotta say it, he's fuckin' gotta say it. He scrubs a hand over his face, breathes, finally spits out "She's dead."
Lodz don't say a thing, looks like he was goddamn expectin' it, so Ben just keeps goin' 'cause it's like a fuckin' flood unleashed. "And I tried t'do, what I did before, but...but nothing happened, so...so she's dead." His fingers are in fists, now, he c'n feel the energy in his body, angry, scared, lost fuckin' furious don't know what t'do but Loz just sits there, and then he says
"I'm terribly sorry."
Somethin' goes snap, inside Ben. "Now you tell me what I gotta do!" Because Lodz knows, he's always known, he's gotta help he can't fuckin' not but he's just sittin' and rockin' and smilin' like he don't know what th'fuck Ben's talkin' about.
"Me? No. I'm afraid I can't help you." And Ben's just about t'fuckin' punch him one, right across his fuckin' blind eyes when he speaks again. "But I know someone who can."
-
It's Management.
And Management's just a voice, behind the curtains in Samson's trailer, raspy and old and it tells him that if he wants t'get Ruthie back, if he wants t'heal her he needs t'give her a life. A life for a life, and when he finally stumbles out he almost feels like gettin' sick again because he doesn't understand, doesn't know, ain't his goddamn place to choose who lives an' who dies 'cause that's God's will not his but.
But he knows he ain't got a goddamn choice and it chokes him, hard.
TO BE EDITED.
-
It don't get better the next mornin' 'cause he still hasn't goddamned slept, he still don't know what th'fuck t'do and then Jonesy catches him cuttin' through th'trucks and flags him down.
"Find a hole," he mutters, "And dig down deep. Law's here lookin' for you."
Ben's almost fuckin' forgotten, with everythin', but now it comes back hard the poster, the reward, wanted for murder and he doesn't think before askin' "Where?"
"Lead truck," and then Jonesy's off again, can't look suspicious and Ben's boltin' for the nearest place he knows, deep in one'a th'trucks where the law won't go.
(Samson-Ben scene "him and me, we're alike")
-
Ben-bartender, find the drifter, thinks about killing him, can't do it I'M TIRED I'LL DO THIS LATERRRR
-
Th'graveyard's quiet, still, not a goddamn thing like the city and Ben's glad for it. Seems to long since he had proper quiet, too long since he's just been alone with the silence and he kneels in front of a tomb, breathes it into him.
He ain't afraid no more. Ain't confused, ain't lost. He knows what he's gotta do, Management told him after all, and that drunk in the bar - well, that was just makin' sure he made the right choice. And he knows he has.
A life for a life. Gotta take life to give it.
Management, whispering, you have the power, and Ben, well.
He does.
He slips a hand into his pocket, finds the switchblade he lifted off a roustine, one'a the newer ones who ain't likely to notice who it was. He fingers it, nice and slow.
Our father, who art in heaven
Hallowed be thy name
Thy kingdom come
Thy will be done
On earth as it is in Heaven
Give us this day our daily bread
And forgive us our trespasses
As you would forgive those who would trespass against us
Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil
It flicks out, sharp, bright, and his hands shake hard as he raises his head. He ain't afraid, he knows. He can't be. He's doin' the right thing, and th'right thing only.
For the kingdom
The power
And the glory are yours
For ever
And ever
It rests on his neck, just for a moment. He closes his eyes, sees Ruthie, cold in her trailer, the guard he shot, the deaths he's seen so many times in his dreams.
Amen.
He cuts.
It hurts. It hurts more than he ever thought it would and he goes backward, fallin' slow, feelin' the warmth of blood on his neck, his shirt, and it feels like he's still fallin' and then when he finally fetches up on the ground he blinks, opens his eyes for one last look at the sky, one last smile 'cause he's goddamn done it.
But his last thought before the blackness comes for him is that the sky ain't right one, and the last word on his lips is a curse because this ain't where he has to be.
But then there's nothin' but th'blood, and Ruthie's name, dyin' on his lips.
They come back, hard, makin' him wake up covered in sweat, gaspin' for air, feelin' the sick burning pain that is no legs, they get him hearin' explosions when there ain't none, they get so that every time he closes his eyes he sees the preacher-man smilin' while blood runs from the mouths of thousands of people, all of 'em takin' the razor blades and swallowin' them like lies.
He stays out of the bar, but that don't help. He drinks 'till he's staggerin' but that don't help neither, just makes it worse with th'hangover on top'a everythin' else. And that's when he thinks back to last time it got this bad, last time he was thinkin' 'bout just jumpin' in the goddamn lake and takin' a breath 'cause anythin' would be better, and that's when he remembers last time and th'door.
He don't go until night, but when he's finally in th'bar again he don't even have to go near it. The confessional door gapes open, shows the light of the church, but somehow he knows that even when he goes through and it shuts that Hack Scudder, well.
He ain't there. If he ever was.
-
He sleeps the night under th'truck they use t'haul Colussus, wakes next mornin' with the dreams still rattlin' around his brain, like they're tryin' t'tell him something. Ain't much for him to do and he wanders, mostly, 'till he sees Samson sittin' by the lead truck, watchin' the road.
He goes to him, doesn't know exactly why, sits down hard on the ground, sucks his teeth. Samson stays quiet for a good long while, but finally he looks down, says "Remember what I told you, kid."
He remembers. Told him he had t'trust someone, Lodz or him, but Ben thinks 'bout a bar and a sweet face and all them strangers he knows now what seen him in th'dark times, those he c'n put at least some trust in, who knows what he sees. In the end he hauls himself up, spits, and turns away from th'dwarf.
"I trust someone," he says, but he goes before Samson can ask 'cause he's a goddamn coward and he don't want to have t'try and explain.
-
Jonesy turns up an hour or so later, in a right state, pissed as hell and demandin' they move the cootch tent. There's complainin' from almost all but Ben, so Jonesy tosses him the states and th'sledgehammer and tells him t'get a fuckin' move on.
It's hot, hard word and he's lost callus already, from the Bar. Thinks that if, when he goes back, he's gotta keep himself busy somehow 'cause it ain't good, feelin' tired this early. He's gotta be able t'work if he ever wants t'pay off his bartab.
He's readyin' for another swing when Lila walks behind him, wolf-whistles under her breath and he scrubs a hand over his face, embarrassed 'cause he thinks he knows what this is.
"Noticed a little swagger in your walk today," she purrs, lookin' far too damn happy with herself. "Wonder why that is?"
He don't rise to it, and she continues. "Could it be...someone got his gun cleaned?"
Ben tries not to let it show, but he don't think it works, not exactly. He bends over, pickin' up the sledgehammer again, mumbles "Dunno what you're talkin' about."
He swings, hits the pin straight on, but she's still talkin'. "Don't be shy, everybody knows. No secrets 'round here."
Everyone knows, she says, and fuck. He grimaces, puts the hammer down for a moment, tells himself it ain't like he didn't know it was gonna happen but fuck he didn't want that. And now she's just rubbin' it in his face, like she wants him t'react.
"I'm tryin' t'work," he mutters, hopes it's harsh enough but she don't seem to care.
"How was she?" Without pause, "Grateful, I imagine." She sidles closer, 'till he can smell the sick-sweet perfume she uses. "Always kinda hoped I'd, ah - be the one t'pick that cherry."
And she looks down, at him, gives him th'look that say she knows exactly how he's feelin' and he takes a breath, another, knows he can't fuckin' rise to this, can't give her cause so he just says "I'm workin'," again, prayin' this time it'll work and it does, 'cause she turns to leave and he's just relaxin' when she's at his back again.
"You get tired of Grandma," she whispers, "you come to Lila," and then she's gone, sashaying off like a peacock and Ben's back t'poundin' the stakes like he's thinkin' each one's got a beard and blue eyes.
-
He don't sleep that night, neither. Every time he gets close somethin' drags him out, hard, 'till finally he just walks it off, smokes hard, tries to ignore the crawlin' feelin' in his stomach, his back, like there's somethin' wrong just outside what he c'n see.
He's over by the cook tent when Gabe catches him, and he knows from th'moment he sees his face that somethin's wrong. Real wrong. And Gabriel, he ain't makin' sense, babblin' 'bout Ruthie sleepin' and not wakin' up and he follows him quick, just about jumps the steps into the trailer calling "Ruthie?" and praying she'll answer but he knows, he knows she won't.
She's lyin' on the bed, cold, still, blue on her lips and his heart seizes hard inside him. Gabe's crying out that she ain't breathin' and she ain't, he knows, fingers on her neck and he can't feel a goddamn pulse and this can't be happenin', ain't happenin', it's a nightmare except it isn't and she's here and dead under his hands and he don't know how to fix this.
Her hair's down, it coils in his hand. Gabe's snifflin' behind him, but Ben's just starin' at her hair, how it feels on his fingers, rememberin' soft hair before and a kitten, mewing, three days after his ma had put it in the grave.
He does know how to fix this.
He manages to get Gabe t'pick her up, and somehow they get her through Carnivale without bein' seen, stuffin' her in the Chevy. Ben closes the door, moves to the driver's side, breathin' hard 'cause a kitten's a kitten but this, this is Ruthie.
Gabe wipes tears off his face, calls out "Where're you takin' her?" and Ben don't know what to say so he don't explain.
"Just wait here, okay?" He can feel th'breath catchin in his throat, desperate, frantic, "It'll be okay." It'll be okay. It's gotta be. Can't not. Gabe's still lookin' lost so he takes precious seconds and leans towards him.
"Remember how I fixed your arm? I'll fix her.Just stay here, and don't talk to nobody, y'hear me?" Gabe nods, silent, and "I'll be back," Ben promises, turns the key and thank Christ the engine roars t'life on the first try.
He drives way out, too fast, weavin' over the road 'cause when he hits bumps and she jerks it's like she's still alive. When they hit corn he keeps goin', till he can't see a thing for the fields, then he stops and grabs her, carryin' her out and laying her down in the headlight beams.
So still, no breath, no pulse, but he can't goddamn think about that or what farm's about to go under 'cause this is Ruthie and that's all that goddamn matters so he puts his hands on her chest, bends his head, reaches out inside him t'the corn and pushes...
But Ruthie's still lyin' there, still, cold, not movin' and the corn waves tall in the night wind, and it's gotta work, it's gotta. "C'mon," he manages through the gasping breaths that aren't tears because he damn well won't let them be, "Hey, c'mon," but nothin' happens, nothin' at all and the corn rustles like laughter and he bends his head and clenches his teeth because this is. Not. Happening.
One last time, and he shakes her, hands on her shoulders, her face, "Ruthie," muttering and there's desperation in his voice but he don't even care enough t'be embarrassed, "c'mon, Ruthie, Ruthie please, please," goin' back to her chest, hands on her breast-bone, "C'mon!"
But.
There's nothin'.
There's not a goddamn' thing.
"Please," he whispers and he's cryin' now, cryin' hard and he don't even care, not a bit, "please, please, Ruthie," but she just lies there cold and still and this time, when he puts his head on her shoulder and lets the sobs come spillin' out she ain't there to touch him just right.
-
He brings her back. Feels like a dream, everythin' too slow, too dark, too quiet. He pulls the battered old Chevy in, right t'the trailer, where Gabe's standin' waitin' like a statue. He can't think of nothin' t'say but he's gotta, he's gotta, so in the end he mutters "Put'er inside," and stumbles behind the car t'prop his hand on the bumper and puke.
By th'time it's over Gabe's inside, and he moves over t'the steps, sits down hard like he ain't sure there's gonna be somethin' beneath him and lights up a smoke with shakin' fingers. It's half-gone when Gabe comes out again, most of it just ash in the wind, and he stands quick like maybe she's come to while he's been here.
But she ain't, 'course not, so he just looks down. "She in bed like I told'ya?" Gabe nods, silent. "Draw the shades?" Another nod. Ben takes a hard drag on the smoke, coughs, shakes his head and mutters "Siddown here," 'cause he's gotta be strong, for Ruthie, so he can fix this.
"Listen," he says, leanin' over the strongman, tryin' to talk like he thinks it'll be okay even though he knows it won't, "anybody comes by here, you tell 'em your momma's sleepin', and she don't wanna be waked up. Don't let nobody in 'till I tell you different. Not even Samson. Nobody."
Gabe's just lookin' at him and snifflin', and Ben's stomach turns, knows he's gotta make this stick somehow. "Can't muck this up. You do - we ain't friends no more." Gabe's cryin' gets louder and he curses in his head, changes tune.
"Hey. Don't worry, just...remember and we're Dutch." There's tears streakin' down his face and Ben pulls a faded handkerchief outta his pocket, offers it over 'cause he can't stand the sight, don't want t'see it, can't. He don't give Gabe a chance t'give it back neither, just turns and head off, for the person he knows has gotta have some goddamn answers.
-
He stands in front'a Lodz, on the steps, throws a glance at Lila that should tell her exactly what he thinks'a her, then looks back at the blindman. "I gotta talk to you," he says, "alone."
Lila protests but Lodz yells, gets her out in a goddamn hurry and Ben's left with just him and that boiled-egg eyed sumbitch but Ben needs help, goddamn it, and so that's what he says.
"What sort of help?"
"It's Ruthie." He c'n feel the panic in him, risin' hard, fast. "One of her snakes got out, and she got, got bit. She's-" and he can't say it, he can't goddamn say it.
Lodz looks confused. "She's unwell? Ill?"
But he's gotta say it, he's fuckin' gotta say it. He scrubs a hand over his face, breathes, finally spits out "She's dead."
Lodz don't say a thing, looks like he was goddamn expectin' it, so Ben just keeps goin' 'cause it's like a fuckin' flood unleashed. "And I tried t'do, what I did before, but...but nothing happened, so...so she's dead." His fingers are in fists, now, he c'n feel the energy in his body, angry, scared, lost fuckin' furious don't know what t'do but Loz just sits there, and then he says
"I'm terribly sorry."
Somethin' goes snap, inside Ben. "Now you tell me what I gotta do!" Because Lodz knows, he's always known, he's gotta help he can't fuckin' not but he's just sittin' and rockin' and smilin' like he don't know what th'fuck Ben's talkin' about.
"Me? No. I'm afraid I can't help you." And Ben's just about t'fuckin' punch him one, right across his fuckin' blind eyes when he speaks again. "But I know someone who can."
-
It's Management.
And Management's just a voice, behind the curtains in Samson's trailer, raspy and old and it tells him that if he wants t'get Ruthie back, if he wants t'heal her he needs t'give her a life. A life for a life, and when he finally stumbles out he almost feels like gettin' sick again because he doesn't understand, doesn't know, ain't his goddamn place to choose who lives an' who dies 'cause that's God's will not his but.
But he knows he ain't got a goddamn choice and it chokes him, hard.
TO BE EDITED.
-
It don't get better the next mornin' 'cause he still hasn't goddamned slept, he still don't know what th'fuck t'do and then Jonesy catches him cuttin' through th'trucks and flags him down.
"Find a hole," he mutters, "And dig down deep. Law's here lookin' for you."
Ben's almost fuckin' forgotten, with everythin', but now it comes back hard the poster, the reward, wanted for murder and he doesn't think before askin' "Where?"
"Lead truck," and then Jonesy's off again, can't look suspicious and Ben's boltin' for the nearest place he knows, deep in one'a th'trucks where the law won't go.
(Samson-Ben scene "him and me, we're alike")
-
Ben-bartender, find the drifter, thinks about killing him, can't do it I'M TIRED I'LL DO THIS LATERRRR
-
Th'graveyard's quiet, still, not a goddamn thing like the city and Ben's glad for it. Seems to long since he had proper quiet, too long since he's just been alone with the silence and he kneels in front of a tomb, breathes it into him.
He ain't afraid no more. Ain't confused, ain't lost. He knows what he's gotta do, Management told him after all, and that drunk in the bar - well, that was just makin' sure he made the right choice. And he knows he has.
A life for a life. Gotta take life to give it.
Management, whispering, you have the power, and Ben, well.
He does.
He slips a hand into his pocket, finds the switchblade he lifted off a roustine, one'a the newer ones who ain't likely to notice who it was. He fingers it, nice and slow.
Our father, who art in heaven
Hallowed be thy name
Thy kingdom come
Thy will be done
On earth as it is in Heaven
Give us this day our daily bread
And forgive us our trespasses
As you would forgive those who would trespass against us
Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil
It flicks out, sharp, bright, and his hands shake hard as he raises his head. He ain't afraid, he knows. He can't be. He's doin' the right thing, and th'right thing only.
For the kingdom
The power
And the glory are yours
For ever
And ever
It rests on his neck, just for a moment. He closes his eyes, sees Ruthie, cold in her trailer, the guard he shot, the deaths he's seen so many times in his dreams.
Amen.
He cuts.
It hurts. It hurts more than he ever thought it would and he goes backward, fallin' slow, feelin' the warmth of blood on his neck, his shirt, and it feels like he's still fallin' and then when he finally fetches up on the ground he blinks, opens his eyes for one last look at the sky, one last smile 'cause he's goddamn done it.
But his last thought before the blackness comes for him is that the sky ain't right one, and the last word on his lips is a curse because this ain't where he has to be.
But then there's nothin' but th'blood, and Ruthie's name, dyin' on his lips.