Psyche

Chapter Eleven

All I could have said right now is: What. The. Fuck.

I always liked dogs and in the winter, I always found myself curled up by the fire, imagining some nice puppy with bright brown eyes next to me. But this is just too much. I hid in the bushes and I heard every word he said to some sketchy guy in a suit. I hardly remembered why I was there. I just was. Just that when I followed Nick-or whoever he was-into that forest, I could tell he wasn't sure he was coming out.

I was chasing him, sprinting faster than I had at any track meet . . . unfortunately. But I soon had to stop. I bent over, my hands pressing against my knees. But by the time I had recovered, he was gone...

Now what? I ask myself. Might as well keep running. Lucky me, I as came over the cement hill, I found him speed-walking passed some soccer moms from the elementary school. I kept running. I eventually got close enough to see the whites of his eyes. They were fossilized in fear and darker than the dead of night. I knew he was thinking about me, but I made sure that I went unnoticed. I was sure he was picturing me running in, wanting an explanation. I didn't want one any less, but I was going to be smart about it.

Like an obedient little puppy, led mostly by fear, I followed. He walked in silence down the busy streets until we arrived at the edge of the woods. I followed without him noticing. If he isn't a human, I would have thought he could have sensed me or something. Along the leafy tree-line, used condoms, cigarettes, bags with logos of common fast-food restaurants, and an abandoned pair of pink and purple panties littered the autumn-stained ground.

Such trash made me think, I applaud the incompetence of man. I award their selfish ways with my silence. Of course I wouldn't dare be a hippy, surrounded by my fellow companions and say, "Well, if you can't beat them, join them," and throw some candy wrappers at the foot of some five century old oak. But that's just me.

We came to his little cabin. It seemed like a good place for a boy of his age to be alone . . . God, I am so immature, but right.

I slid behind some bushes As I lowered myself to my knees, I, once again, remarked the pain, the resentment, the fear, and the regret manifesting in his cold and dying eyes. The hell we must have been going through... I stuck my hands between the thorny branches and parted them. I stayed silent. I made sure I could see whoever he was meeting. Whoever this person was, whatever happens here today, it will not be good. And we both knew it. Somewhere inside our hearts (assuming he had one) we both knew that I was about to witness something horrible. And god knows what will happen to him. And so I waited . . .

***

I could barely keep up. They shot dirty remarks back at each other like the anger of a thousand centuries was between them. As sketchy as this suited man was, I felt his power with every step he took. He was heavy, I observed as I felt the vibrations and thuds through my palms that were pressed against the ground. And yet, in this human form he seemed so light-weight. Human form? I could barely believe my own drunken thoughts. I heard the pleading in Nicky's voice, loud and clear. This man took it as a weakness.

And when my name graced the subject, when the insults against me reached my ears, I was pissed enough to abandon my oh-so perfect hiding spot.

***

There I was, with his boiling blood in my hands. His big, dark eyes are half opened. The rhythmic beat of his black heart was felt throughout the darkening woods. The sun had gone down. The vegetation around us burned in a cold, hellish fire. I was simply sitting there with this half-dead wolf of a man. Would nature take both of our lives tonight? Right then and there, I almost hoped so. Almost . . .