Shark of Spades

Cycle of Emotions

We sat in silence (me, thinking; Evan, most likely ready for me to grab the gun and end him forever) for about ten long minutes before I put down my empty glass of water and stared at the table. "Did I ever give  you permission to embed a chip in my arm?"

"No," he answered guiltily, flinching slightly.

"And did I ever give you any indication that I wanted a chip in my arm?"

"No."

"Did I ever ask you to put a chip in my arm?"

"No. Look, Misa, I get where you're going-"

"Did I ever make any intention of implanting a chip in my arm? Here, let me  help you out. No. So why did you go ahead and do that without asking me?"

"Because I couldn't trust anyone else."

"I feel a little miffed that you trust my arm more than you trust me."

"You know that's not what I meant, Misa."

"Evan, I don't know what to  think. What the hell am I going to do with this thing in my arm?" I looked up abruptly, meeting his concerned eyes with my stony ones, although I was trying to hide my worry. "Is that why people are after me now? Do they know about the chip?"

Evan came over and hugged me from behind.

"Stop with the hugging thing, Evan."

He calmly ignored me. "Misa, don't worry. I'll protect you, okay? If we can get the chip out and publicize the info, great. If not, then I swear to God that I'll protect you. You're not dying, not now."

"And you?" I asked, feeling my facial muscles tighten with pain. "Are you going to die again?"

Evan's face mirrored my own. "I never meant to in the first place. It was the only way to protect you."

I stood up, pushing away from him, my mind feeling clouded. "I don't think you know how damn painful it is when someone just dies on you like  that and you spend years of your life thinking that they're  gone forever, and then every time you see a freaking cloud you see their face on it, or maybe you see them in the street, only it's not them,  and then you walk around for a week like someone died all over again.  You can't know, Evan, so don't make excuses. You want to protect me? Then survive. And if you die this time, I sure as hell hope you decide to stay dead, because I'm not going to wait for you to resurface again."

With that, I left the room, leaving him standing by himself.

***

I walked for a little while. I'll fully admit that I wanted to hop in the car and go pedal to the metal, but I had left my briefcase in the room with Evan, and was I regretting that now. Some part of me must have trusted Evan, the little thing called a soul that I couldn't deny.

So I ended up meandering down the streets of some little riverside town that I had forgotten the name of. Sometime after I had started out, a full, fat raindrop spattered on my cheek, and I stopped. It's okay. I'm sure the rain just isn't aware of exactly who it's falling on, I thought dryly before slowly resuming my steady steps, only to stop a  moment later. I paused, looking around, and after spotting no one, laid down on the strip of anorexic grass next to the sidewalk. I spread out  my arms and let the rain hit my skin, as I'd always wanted to do, but something was different than my vision. This rain was cold, and it didn't have some kind of deeper meaning to it. I didn't feel a sense of self identity rising out of me, or some kind of self actualization. I just felt cold.

For some reason, that made me want to cry, so I did. I let out whatever I was feeling, letting my salty tears mingle with the  falling droplets.

I zoned out for a while, just lying there, until I heard footsteps. I was about to get up and bolt when I sensed the person  laying down next to me.

We laid side-by-side with only the storm for noise when all of a sudden, he asked, "Card, why are you crying?"

"I'm not," I replied softly, as though scared to out-show the storm. "I'm just saturating the grass."

"Hm."

"It looked dry."

Neither of us talked for a few minutes until I suddenly said, "I don't know. I  expected to feel...different, somehow, but I don't. I just feel dead inside. Is that wrong?" I looked over at Jack, feeling strangely bare  because this was the first time I'd ever been completely open and honest with Jack without throwing up fronts and walls and barriers to hide behind.

I don't really think that I expected him to answer, but he  did, in a way. He waited a moment before turning on his side and holding my face with one hand so he could kiss me. I didn't really know what to do. I'd never been kissed. I was put in an all-girl camp when I was 8, and I had always walked  the line. After I ran away, I hid in a house, never leaving. When I did leave, I was a man from there on out. When exactly would I have had time to screw around with guys?

The sensation wasn't unpleasant, but the feeling still wasn't what I was looking for. I still felt empty inside. So when he pulled back, we both were quiet.

Then I got up and left.