Double-Edged Sword - $UICIDEBOY$

Finding Peace, And Slipping

    You didn't know how you'd feel being accompanied in public by someone who easily stood out, but part of you was excited to be in an exclusive clique with the rest of the world looking from the outside.

    By now, Scrim had manually moved the back seats upright, still with a mild brow raise at you. He warned you the drive would take awhile considering that not much was left in the 7th Ward with regards to good clothing. Maybe a thrift shop had something interesting, but he wanted to do you up with a wardrobe. He shoed Ruby back into the house like a puppy. You giggled softly, watching Ruby yell at him. They looked nothing alike, but sure as hell seemed related when Scrim jumped playfully onto Ruby's back and yelled with that deep New Orleans slur.
    They battled it out childishly, and when Ruby finally went back inside during a spree of middle fingers, Scrim looked back at you with one of the most genuine grins you'd seen on him. Maybe it was on the up-and-up already for them? He sat down in the driver's seat and pushed his dreads back. Life felt as though it had entered a new normal.

    "Fuckin' idiot, can ya believe I'm related to that?", He paused, then laughed and threw on some sunglasses for the drive, "I love that man."

    He sped out of town, passing over crumbled roads. Steadily, Scrim looked more and more out of place against the scenery outside of the car. Broken suburbs became clean communities of "upright" people (all clutching the same dark secrets). While you weren't phased by his collection of face tattoos, you realized that most people probably were. You were so deep into this lifestyle that never had it occurred to you Scrim looked "weird". It was just life. How could people judge like that?
    You parked in a vast expanse of a parking lot. You both got out, careful not to bash cars with your doors, and you stared at the massive mall in the distance. A horizon eater. Scrim took the sunglasses off and squinted.
    "Just follow me, I know where I gotta take ya for some good shit."

    You followed, slightly nervous as the wide eyes of families and elders glanced at Scrim. They looked as if you two wouldn't notice- a dehumanizing way to view a spectacle. Always. Before entering the mall, a stout man in perhaps his fifties sitting on a bench raised his brow at you in subtle disbelief. What? Were you some girl making a bad choice in his eyes? Enraged by his judgment, you grabbed Scrim's hand and confidently walked into the mall. Scrim was smiling softly, and he held onto your hand tighter.
    The mall was absolutely insane. It had been years since you enjoyed the luxury of such a place, and all at once you were saturated with thousands of busy people. Kiosks begged you to get massages or try their product (to which you engaged in the ritual of awkwardly declining). The eyes continued to linger on Scrim, but neither of you two cared at that point. They could believe what they wanted.
    After an escalator ride and a few confusing turns, you hit stores. Designer shit was at an arm's length, and you immediately hissed at Scrim, "Bro- shit I don't need expensive stuff, stop that."
    He waved you off and kissed the back of the hand he was holding, "Hush, enjoy gifts when they come to ya."
    A worker went pale when Scrim began to sift through clothing, but before the worker was able to tell him to leave, the manager rushed over.
    "Apologies- he is unaware that you are a loyal customer, Scott."
    The worker left with a red face, and Scrim's glare was devilishly amused.

    The clothing to try on stacked up. Neither of you picked out the frilly cute shit either. You stocked up onto abstract and artsy shirts, gritty skirts, industrialized pants, ominously dark jackets, you name it. Your arms were full, and you were sore by the end of trying each thing on. But at least there was a vision of a self now that hadn't exist prior to that day. The clothing acted like a display banner, marker of deviant thought.
    Scrim explained it well.

    "No one is aware today, of anyone else. Ya walked inna the mall today and saw hunnids of people, but did you actually go and notice them all? Nah. But me, and you? WE gon' get noticed. We're gonna make people aware. Ruby and I been making people aware of us. Our clothing is uh... poignant yea, it makes a statement. Our looks are outlandish. Ya got me covered in these damn tats and dreads, and Ruby out here with a lion's mane and limbs draped by roughly inked messages. He's so damn reserved but like, he ain't no softie. Well, maybe to you he coos a bit more like a dove. But, I dunno, strangers are forced to think about us when they see us. They gotta deal with something controversial when they see us; they can't hide in their small fucking world, and I like that."

    The pile of clothing on the cash register was a tad intimidating. You felt bad initially, but Scrim was beaming. A glow was washed over his skin when the register began to ring up each item. The worker who had initially feared that he was "not a loyal customer" actually checked out the clothing- such irony. He was flushed in quite the shade of red. scrim kept his eyes on the worker. He paid- in cash- and his stare seemed to convey an "I told you so" vibe. The worker sorted the crisp bills, still fuming with embarrassment, and handed you the monstrous bags.
    Your shoulders ached the moment you lifted up your share. Scrim tilted slightly with the other bags in his fists. He joked about it all, but moved onto food.

MMMMMMMMM BITCH, FOOD

    You stopped at a McDonalds inside of the mall, and Scrim forcibly asked for no sauce with the nuggets.

    "It's crime, ordering sauce. Fuck man, I'm the damn sauce."

(Im actually fucking crying I had to put that reference in there)

    With your bags painfully shoved under a table, you two stuffed down the nuggets and chatted quietly to each other.
    "I don't know what you said to Ruby, but he looked a lot happier today. I'm glad that... that it isn't over.", Scrim took a sip from his water and failed to meet your eyes.
    You toyed with your hair, "If it was over, I would have lost my mind I think. I can't just walk away from what I walked into. I thought that was a good idea, but I wasn't even in my own head by then. I can't turn away from the people who... well, saved me."

    Scrim coughed on his water suddenly and looked at you, flooded with emotion, "I don't know why I care so much about ya already Y/N. You've been so genuine with Ruby and me... shit is so rare."

    You both finished your food and took off from the mall. The bags were then stuffed comically into the back seats. With his shades back on, he rolled down his window and put his arm on the rim. His dreads swung behind him and fluttered in the wind. You would say he seemed at peace. That seemed to be... a rare moment in this part of the world. Even as nervous drivers passed and dared not look, you were content. The sky was still bright, and the sun was making a descent. Scrim looked over at you briefly.

    You heard the sound of a cigarette lighter and stared at him smoking. The single flame teetered in the wind, lapped the tip, and curled the paper. A deep ember glow formed as Scrim inhaled. A stream of smoke drooled from his nose and vanished. The hollows of his cheeks pulled further in with each puff, dragging flesh over his bones tighter and tighter. A skull? His skull. You watched as his head began to tease the edges of a skull underneath.

He spotted your intent stare, "What is it?"

"It's nothing. It's- nah."

He stopped the car in the center of an empty intersection, "Tell me, even if it's stupid."

    "It's funny. Kinda. The way your face hangs as you smoke that.. Somehow you look... closer to death."

He raised his hand, assuming you were literally chastising him for smoking, "It's not like I'll be doing it my whole life. I just need a lil something cause I'm still sorta fresh on being clean from hard shit."

     You blinked and saw his eye sockets fold deeper suddenly, like his skull was trying to break through, "No- no it isn't that- Scrim-"

He looked down and crushed the used cigarette into his ashtray, "It's gonna be fine-"

Bright lights streaked through the intersection and across your vision.

The screech of tires burned into your ears.

scrim's face shot up.

And all at once, his statement had become immeasurably incorrect.

    How fucking cliché... You thought in slow motion, as the world hurled you forward and Scrim's vacant eyes swayed. The fluttering of his eyelids was your last sight before a personal darkness cocooned you.