Dents

[+] Cloud Of Unknowing

The events having taken place over the last hour made little sense.

Who are these people, I wondered. What are Gorillaz? Am I in danger again? Why was that suffocating Brit from earlier so green?

I had so many questions. I swallowed them all. I prayed that this was a huge misunderstanding and a well-meaning act towards a stranger. The other possibilities were too frightening to consider.

"Are yew 'ere to work on the album or somefink?"

The fragile man tilted his head slightly in my direction. His face was obscured by the lack of light. I took a small step toward him, driven dually by curiosity and fear.

"I don't know anything about an album. I was drifting at sea and I just crashed into this place."

"Oh. So yew won't be stayin', righ'?"

"I'm afraid not. That... Murdoc? He wants me gone by morning. The big guy, he didn't want me out on the currents at night..."

"Yeh, 'at's Russ. Sorry 'bout Murdoc. This album's got us all messed up seems like. My name's 2D."

"Well met, 2D. You can call me Saoirse."

I hesitantly approached him. My lighthearted tone was inherently deceptive. It was a skill I acquired over long stretches of faking my way forward. Every muscle in my body tensed.

I would not let him discover how afraid I was.

2D turned to look at me. He was not small in size like I had originally thought. In fact, he was actually rather large. His arms and legs were of ridiculous proportion, far longer and lankier than anyone I had ever known. He stood around 6'3" and was thin to a fault. His hair was a vibrant shade of blue, delicate strands of it being whipped about lightly by a box fan from across the bed.

It was then that I saw his eyes.

Where most people would scream, or run off, or at least ask why they look that way, I stayed silent.

I was fascinated, truly. Somehow, their deep dark served to disarm me. Under normal circumstances, I could hardly bring myself to look at someone's face. It was not something that I was supposed to do and so I did not. To do so could be taken as a personal sleight. To do so would mean bad things for me.

This was different. He was different.

My organs pulsated, throbbing with anxiety. My mind screamed for me to avert my gaze. Still, I did not look away.

Why hadn't he yelled at me yet? Why wasn't he trying to stop me?

Contrary to my expectations, his expression softened. 

"Et's my eyes, righ'? I know they look pretty scary. Happened in an accident. Et was a long time ago."

"No, no, it's nothing like that. They don't look scary or anything," I insisted, "The opposite, maybe."

I approached the bed. The adrenaline that kept me standing had run its course. I knew if I did not sit down soon, I would collapse again. My exhausted body dropped onto the edge of the mattress. A puff of dust motes exploded into the stuffy atmosphere.

All the while, I did not break my line of sight from him. Despite his harmless demeanor, I was unable to entirely drop my guard for a friendly face.

"Can you... Can you see me?"

He smiled. It looked sad.

"Sort ov. I can see 'at yew're sittin' in front of me. Yew have red hair. Blue eyes, I fink? S'at right?"

"Yeah," I nodded, "That's right. I've never seen eyes like yours before."

I could not find the words to express the feeling in me when I watched him. My heart was rigid, hardened with an unfathomable affliction. Yet, in this brief exchange, a glimmer of trust rekindled inside of me. Perhaps not everyone was as cruel as I had come to believe.

I exhaled. My shoulders relaxed.

"Hey, shot in the dark here - Do you have a smoke? Or maybe some water?"

"Of course," he said, reaching for a crumpled pack of Marlboros and a box of matches.

He handed it to me. Our hands grazed each other. I flinched.

Eager to move on from letting my cowardice slip, I struck a match. The smoke tasted sour on my tongue.

"So you're the singer, then?"

"'At's righ'. Bu' Murdoc can't always get me to do wha' 'e wants."

"Sing something," I said thoughtlessly. I was so fatigued that it didn't occur to me how rude it was to ask unprompted.

He smiled at me again. There was no joy in it. His tongue moved behind the gap in his teeth.

"Sorry, luv. I'm on strike."

I was in no position to pry. 2D, apparently satisfied at leaving the conversation there, went on to tell me about the video games he had. I was deeply interested. I couldn't recall having such luxuries back home, and certainly not when I was in Essex. He handed me a controller. I stared at it, perplexed.

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Wha' do yew mean?"

He squinted at me. I frowned, hoping that I didn't seem as daft as I probably was.

"I don't know how this works."

"I'll show yew."

He scooted to the edge of the bed where I was sitting. Careful not to touch me, he leaned forward and pointed out each of the buttons and their respective functions. My breath caught in my chest. I wasn't able to relax again until he pulled away.

We played one of his zombie games for hours. Once I stopped accidentally blowing myself up, I realized that I was having a lot of fun. It appeared we shared a competitive nature. 2D lit a cigarette and passed it to me. As I reached for it, my half of the screen went black.

"You son of a -" I started, "That's such a cheap trick!"

"Worked, didn't it?"

I glared at him halfheartedly from the side. His ash blackened orbs glimmered vibrantly in the artificial light. His skin was pale, and he was very thin, but there was a bit of tone to him. A cigarette burned between his crooked teeth.

He was kind of cute, in his own way.

Before I knew it, my ingrained compulsion to stay alert to danger diminished to a mere afterthought. 

Later that evening, 2D showed me to his bathroom. It was a room too tiny and pathetic to pass for a coffin. Honestly though, I was just happy to see soap. He had given me some spare clothes of his. I insisted that I keep mine, but they were destroyed from being adrift so long. Once I'd taken them off, there was nothing left of them to put back on.

I undressed and turned on the water. The stall was rather dirty. The water came out brown before it ran clear. I didn't mind it. I lathered my hair, scrubbing at my skin until it was red. It was a ritual of familiarity, the only method to sanitize the filth that surely coated me.

I didn't notice how thin I had gotten. I thought about stealing some food when I was ready to leave tomorrow.

Then, oddly, I pictured 2D.

I didn't want to steal from them. They'd likely saved my life, all things considered.

The steam from the shower was an adequate reflection of the fog in my brain. I stumbled to the bed, my knees weak, my eyelids heavy. I didn't check to see where 2D had gone. I didn't care, really. I may as well have been sleepwalking.

It'd been almost a year since I slept on a proper mattress. I was out before I hit the sheets.

I didn't realize I had company until he woke me up by rolling on top of me. He was completely crushing my arm, latching onto me in his sleep like I was some sort of teddy bear. I went so stiff I thought my bones might crack. I loosened up a little when I saw a faint string of drool at the corner of his lips. He was out cold.

"2D. Move," I whispered, my worry replaced with annoyance. 

He grumbled nonsensically. It was hopeless. I let him have his way and went back to sleep.