the killing of a sacred deer - carl grimes

VI

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vi.

dancing with the devil
"lay your bones on these alabaster stones."

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I go out into the woods again the next night.

So does she.

And again. And again. And again.

I don't know why we do it. All I know is that we shouldn't. However, something unspoken keeps bringing us back.

I mean, she's the God damn enemy and I'm prancing around the forest with her in the dark. Swimming the quarry in the moonlight. Smoking like chimneys and burning our fingers like some kind of pact.

But for once in my life I feel young. Like a real teenager, sneaking out to meet up with the mischievous neighbor girl for adventure, stolen cigarettes, and conversations without a point.

It's like once the sun goes down, we no longer have to be who we are in the daylight. I shed my second skin that has been strangling me. In the night, I am free.

On one particular night, we're on our bellies in the grass of a clearing, having a smoke when she flicks some ash at me. "We're made up of the same stuff as the stars you know."

I look over at her. "You know you can't get high off tobacco, right?" I joke dryly.

"No, no. I'm serious. Listen to me." She rolls onto her back, nose scrunched up and eyes squinting as she gazes into the heavens. "Same stuff as the ocean, too. The air, the trees, the dirt. All of it. Everything is made up of stardust."

"Don't you mean bullshit?" I ask emphatically.

"We are distilled sunlight, salt, moonshine, and comet ash. Stardust. It's true." The words are quiet, like it's something she truly believes. I can't help but feel this has surpassed our normal, superficial chats because for a moment, I think she looks a little sad, pressing her lips together and breathing out a sigh from her nose. But then she swings her leg over to kick me in the side, not hard but enough to make me roll away in annoyance. "Of course, maybe that is just bullshit from your point of view."

"You think I'm a pessimist?" I ask.

"Oh, hell yeah you are." She snakes her way closer, her cigarette has smoldered into nothing and I can tell she's coming after mine. She's always the first to finish and then thinks mine is fair game. Nicotine is an addiction. It's bad for you. But clearly, that doesn't stop us. She rolls against me, reaching out. "Gimme, gimme."

I hold the cigarette just out of her reach. "You are going to kill yourself." I chastise.

"That would make you happy wouldn't it?" She has completely violated my personal space, her fingers snapping for the cancerous object. "Please. Just one drag, Carl, just share with me. Pretty please. Help a girl out."

I roll over again and she comes with me, she's a determined little thief. One second she's on top of me and the next I'm on top of her. Suddenly were laughing and rolling around in the dewy night grass in a game of Keep-Away-The-Cigarette-From-The-Nicotine-Addict. The weight of body, her breath, her skin, she's so warm and so close.