A science-fiction gothic cyberpunk story I wrote some time ago. It's supposed to go along with a novel that I was trying to write, it never got off the ground and.. blah. Anyway, here.

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It was raining. That one thought struck my mind and carried it for a few feet. I sat on the roof of my apartment building, looking out over the night streets, watching the rain fall down on the city. It was almost poetic. The way the rain fell, painting everything cold with a sheet of water, coming down all over the place. The clouds above the city were crying, and they were frequent criers. I suppose that made them manic-depressive? Something like that? Ah, well, it was Seattle, after all. I leaned back in the chair, underneath the awning that protected me from the rain.

Aside from the droning of the rain, I could hear the various sounds that made the city what it was. Downstairs, the couple that had just moved in above me were fighting. They looked like newly-weds, or at least a young couple that had a few years ahead of them. Screaming about the petty things. That's what love was all about. I chuckled softly, looking off toward the Seattle-grey horizon, clad in various ads for cybernetics and other things that CorpAmerica had endorsed, keeping up the visage of a little competition between the corporations. But I knew the truth. Everything was owned by good ol' C.A., and anything that went against them, soon found themselves out of business. Like that one small-time corporation that started up here. Tragic.

Even the employees were burnt to the ground.

But it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. You heard about all kinds of things like that on the news. Usually they were described as being hit by terrorists. Which, actually, wasn't all that far from the truth. Sometimes they hired on terrorists to take out various corporations, or just cause a little sabotage. I was one of those such terrorists. But it was nice, sometimes, when I didn't have to work, and I could sit back and watch the rain fall. That was one of my passions, I could just sit and stare at it for hours, because it was the only thing left in this world that was pure. That you knew was pure. The person walking down the street could be augmented with anything that would improve their abilities at computers, could make them more attractive, anything. It was somewhat unnerving, but that was the kind of business I was in, too. High-stakes, loaded up with the biotechnic advances of the age, refitting my arms with steel-cast dura-arms (the finest in cybernetic enhancements, by CorpAmerica, only seven-thousand dollars and ninety-nine cents). They made me hit harder, but they hurt a little sometimes. It was strange to think that the bones in my arms were replaced by some kind of titanium alloy polymer. But, we all have our differences, I suppose.

I ran my fingers through my hair, looking down at myself. Turning my hand around, I looked at the palm of it, tracing the lines with my eyes. A slight mark of disapprovement upon my lips. I frowned then, flipping my hand back over and resting it on my knee, looking off toward the skyline once again. It was then that I heard the ringing sound. Sliding my hand into my coat pocket, I pulled my phone up, turned it on and put it to my face. "Yes?" I asked into it.

A woman's voice. Quiet, reserved. Reminded me of someone, someone that I had tried to forget a while ago, but it wasn't her. She never called this line, it was always the line to my apartment. This line was business. The woman on the phone had the kind of voice that would send shivers down a man's spine. It was light, but seductive, like she was trying to get something out of you. There was a good chance, though, that she was, considering most of the women that I've known in my life. "Hello, Robert. My name is Amanda. Amanda Brechman. I was told my an associate of mine that you were in the business of corporate evaluation and personnel termination?" I could hear a smile edging her voice. Sadistic bitch.

"Why yes, I am. Do you have work for me?" Just as well. I was brooding too much lately. Needed something to get that off my mind. Well, there isn't anything like breaking into a corporate facility and causing complete carnage. At least it got me outside. Ha-ha.

The smile was still edging around her voice. I imagined her lips on the other line, brushing softly against the phone as she talked. It was almost erotic. "Yes, actually, I do. But I don't trust phones, I'm sure you understand. No one knows who could be listening in. Perhaps the competition." I nodded, forgetting for a moment that she couldn't see me nod. Maybe it was more of a reflexive thing. In any case, she didn't stop speaking, "do you know anywhere we could talk, some place quiet, private?"

Imagine that, a corpie woman not wanting to talk on the phone, and instead wanting to see where we could be alone. This seemed like a trick, like a trap set up for someone to take a fall. Still, I decided that it would get me away from the house for a few hours, away from the screaming couple and the monotony of waiting for the rain to fall harder, if it even could or would. It probably could though. "Yeah, I know a place," I said, rubbing at my eyes with one hand, holding up the phone with the other, "there's a place on seventh, place called Sal's. Meet me there in a half-hour. I'm sure you'll find it. I'll be there before you will, don't worry."

"Counting the seconds," she chuckled, then hung up the phone. I held the dead line for a moment, then flipped it closed, pushed it back into my pocket and leaned back in my chair, looking out toward the horizon once more. This would be interesting. Everything that happened to me lately proved interesting, but this, this most certainly would be. I had a feeling that my life was about to take a very odd turn. At least, hopefully. Down below me, I could hear the couple fighting still, their shouts reaching a fevered pitch. Then everything stopped. I could hear sobbing, then an undoubtably male voice speaking gently.

Standing up, I readjusted my long, black coat, checked my shoulder holster for my ten millimeter, nodded at the sight of it, then put my hands into my pockets, kicking my chair into the makeshift window that led into the hole that I dug into the wall of my apartment. It was something that I was immensely proud of, the fact that I broke a wall leading up toward the roof. All you needed to do was burrow through the wall and go upward, the roof was right there, and the wall facing that way was thick, because there were pipes there, so a ladder could fit perfectly. The landlord didn't even notice, since I kept a covering that looked almost like the wall over it. He didn't do cubicle searches all that often. I usually kept my chair in the passage, and left the door leading out of the hole to the roof closed. It matched the texture of the roof also, helped me get out there easier, since he usually kept the fire-door locked. But I need fresh-air to survive, if I didn't get it, I'd go insane.

Sighing softly, I dropped the remaining five feet from the ladder, crawled through the hole into my apartment, then kicked the shutter closed behind me. Normally Jaros would be here, since he tended to frequent my house more than his own. Which was somewhat annoying, I suppose, but I really didn't care all that much. Where he wanted to be was his business. It wasn't like I had anyone else over anyway. I sighed, picked up a pack of cigarettes, then slid one between my lips, lighting it and taking a puff as I did so. The nicotine hit me like a hammer, I breathed out the smoke and savored the feeling of my vessels widening, and my blood flowing through more cleanly, fully.

I rubbed my hand down the leather lapel of my coat, catching one of the button holes with a thumb, holding on to it for a moment while I watched the smoke pool around, then be dispersed by a central-air unit. Flicking my ashes, I turned toward the door, pushed it open and walked out.

The apartment complex itself was sort of a dump. One of those places where it tried to seem classy, but all in all, it wasn't, and it could never be. My large, black special forces boots brushed against the carpetting, scuffing it and leaving trails of muddied sludge along behind each footstep. As I walked out into the street, I noticed that it had gotten colder. Maybe it was the nicotine, though. They said that they put different things in the cigarettes lately, since most people now had a natural resistance to most nicotine. Now it had some kind of added chemical, which wasn't exactly bad, but it wasn't very good, either. Didn't matter to me, though. I took one last drag on the cigarette, then flicked it out into the rain-slicked street. It had stopped raining, but only for a bit. I knew it would rain once more tonight.

It was the way of the city. The way of everything around here. Don't count on a clear sky, there's always the chance for rain. It emphasized my life, as well. Ah, well. I walked off down the street, about five minutes away from Sal's.

******************

Seated in the cafe, I was smoking a cigarette, watching the door. I figured that the woman who was coming to see me wouldn't take me seriously. Not many did. Me, in my black leather duster, with my construction chain that clipped onto my wallet, my tight black shirt, piercings, long, black hair. Usually, most people just looked at me and thought of the whole goth movement back in the late twentieth to early twenty-second century. Maybe I was a bit like that, even if it was slightly out of date. I didn't really care, though. I liked the way it looked. It did look somewhat intimidating, if used in the right kind of effect. I didn't wear the make-up, aside from painting my chewed nails black every now and then. It made them look more decayed, I thought. And the reason that I wanted them to look like that was because I felt that it made me seem more like a corpse, than anything. It was mostly from my run with the Silver Arrows, though.

The Silver Arrows were a very odd gang. When I was growing up, I had to work a job when I was fifteen, because my mother didn't have any money to keep up the rent. So, I started working at a record store, one of the chains, quit school, and gave most of my paycheck to her. At least it got us food, and helped keep up the rent. I think she was sleeping with the land-lord, so it lowered the price a little bit. Didn't really matter. One night, coming home from work, I was attacked by a couple of muggers. I was walking through the alleys, sort of deep in them. The muggers, there were two of them, they knocked me down, then started beating on me, probably trying to kill me.

It was like a black, dark thunder. I saw two leap out of the shadows, taking one of the muggers down. The other one looked toward where his buddy was, turned to run, but found himself face to face with a pale man, holding a knife. The knife went into the mugger's stomach, dropping him to the ground. Then, he was dragged off into the darkness. I never saw him again. The other mugger wasn't so lucky, though. The two that had jumped out of the shadows were doing various things to make him uncomfortable. Slapping him against the nose, making it bleed, stabbing pins into his flesh. I stood up, brushed myself off and looked around. There were faces all around me. The man on the ground stopped screaming, and it was almost deathly quiet, except for the traffic outside of the alley.

One of them came forward, the one who held the knife. He looked at me, then at the others. The knife was in a sheath at the side of him. He nodded his head slightly toward me, took a knife from a pocket in his long, plastic-looking trenchcoat, then handed it to me. It was about eight inches long, clad in a black scabbard. Lowering his head, he gave another nod, turned to look at the people that were now coming out of the shadows, circling the two of us. He pointed toward me, shook his hand slightly, then dropped it to his side. After that, a woman came forward, touching my arm lightly.

She was beautiful, her eyes the color of mahogany, her hair was ebony black and hung down to just below her ears. She was pale, shorter than me, and had that kind of look on her face like she was seeing God for the first time. She smiled at me, then leaned her head against my chest. I didn't know what to do, other than put my arms around her. I looked around, saw people meeting my gaze, they smiled at me, then a few of them walked away. The one that seemed to be the leader, the one with the knife, he held out his hand. Moving one away from her back, I took it, and he nodded, leading her and I deeper into the alleys.

That night I learned everything about what it was to be a Silver Arrow. They taught me everything, taught me how to reach my psychic abilities. They said they could sense it. Could sense it being used, as I was calling out from the alley through my mind and my lips. That was why they came to help me. The girl's name was Eve, and she was there with me until I turned twenty-two, and got out of the gang when the majority of us were killed by some corporate fuckers. That got me into the business, though. She ended up being a secretary. We talked about getting married, we talked about having children, raising a family.

But people talk about alot of things. It's actually doing them, that's the hard part.

Pounding out my cigarette, I glanced up toward the doors. They were opening now, it had been about a half an hour, and a woman was walking through them. I did one of those things they do in the movies, looking at the woman from her feet to her face, tracing the tan legs to the hem of her dress, falling just above her knees. It was a dark blue color. She had nice breasts, not really large, but something that filled out her form quite well. She was thin, but not too thin, with a waist that made you want to wrap your arms around. Her face was pretty too. For some reason, I figured that she didn't get her corporate job based on the merits of her work alone.

With that, she came to the table, sat down in the seat across from me. I leaned back against the cushioned seat, watching her quietly across the table. She smiled at me, then held out her hand. No rings. I took it, leaned over, kissed it, and winked at her. "Hello, Amy. Nice to meet you, I'm Robert. Don't mind the piercings.. I'm harmless, really." I grinned, leaning back in my seat.

"I hope you're joking, I don't need someone who's harmless for this kind of thing." The way she formed her words, there was something in her jawline that I liked, along with the way her lips were shaped, how they would purse. She drummed a set of equally dark-blue fingernails on the tabletop, watching me. I stared back into her eyes. They were green, but a lighter shade than mine, her hair was blonde, drawn back in a french braid, long, going down to the center of her back. I suppose I had the look in my eyes that I was listening, so she decided to go on without my consent. "There's a man who's working for another corporation. I don't want him around anymore. He's been a menace to my mother-corp. So, I'm going to pay you to have him fired."

"How much is the pay?" I glanced down at my fingernails, picking at the chipped, black paint.

She passed an envelope across the table. I opened it up. Aside from pictures and different kinds of dossiers on the man, there was a bundle of money in it. About twelve-thousand dollars. This guy must have been high up to have been worth that much money to be killed. Nodding slightly, I peered into the envelope, catching a name. 'Lance Moon.' "Fucking weird name." I muttered, looking up at her. She was grinning. I felt a strange sensation on my leg, something brushing against the cloth, pushing it against my flesh. I put the envelope into the left interior pocket in my coat.

Amy was watching me, "So you'll take it then?" I glanced down, noticing her foot sliding up along my thigh. Blinking a couple of times, I looked up at her. I hadn't been with anyone aside from Eve, and I was trying to remain thinking about business.

Trying not to shiver, I nodded a bit, "Y..yeah, I'll.. uh.. I'll take the job.." I cleared my throat, dropping a hand to her foot (which was inching its way upward), pushed it off my side of the booth, then stood up. I pulled my trenchcoat around me, folding my arms to keep the lapels together in front of it. "I.." I shifted my eyes around the near-empty cafe. "I'll get started on it right away. You won't have to worry anymore, and you made the right decision, believe me." With that, I turned, slipping my hands into the pockets of my coat, walking toward the door. I pushed on it with my shoulder, knocking it open, then walked toward the subway.

With a little effort, I was sitting on a train, reading through the information that was supplied to me in the envelope, looking at all of the different variables, his home, his family life, everything that could pose a problem. If he had any bodyguards (which he did), so on and so forth. I was thinking about all these things...

...and I was dreaming about Eve.

*************************

By the time night completely fell, I was prone outside of his house, holding a rifle in my hands. I had bought it off some pawn-shop. It was an old hunter's rifle, made for killing deer, fired .308 rounds. I put a supressor on the front of the barrel, and also armed it with a laser sight that I had made for a few different weapons that I had at my house. I didn't want anything that could be traced back to me, so I bought the gun. It wasn't much, only about a thousand dollars, nothing that I didn't really have right then. Besides, I was sure that Amy and her corporation would pay me extra if I finished the job. People don't pay you the entire fee before hand when it's supposed to be a contract kill. That would be futile, the person might not end up dead, and the other person, the one you payed, would skip town and live for a while out of the eyes of authorities.

I peered through an optical scope, following his movements. I didn't want to turn on the laser-sight just yet, because if he dropped, then the two bodyguards that were near him would be alerted to my presence probably. I would need to take out the both of them first, then drop the executive. They were in some kind of garden, my target was tending a flower bed, one guard was standing near the door leading into the house, and the other one was standing around, looking quite bored. He was probably just milling. Alot of rentacops did that when you couldn't tell them anything specific to do. Shifting my rifle toward a man by the door, I flicked on the laser-sight, positioning it between his eyebrows. I pulled the trigger once, felt the gun buck against my shoulder, then moved my rifle toward the other one. It had a six-round magazine on it, so I didn't have to worry about bolt-action, and I could just fire a couple of shots, take a few things from the scene to show the corporation that I did their dirty work, and ditch the rifle somewhere, maybe burn it or something. Or throw it into Puget Sound. The other guard took a shot to the side of the head, then I got the corporate executive with two bullets, one in his back, the other through the base of his spine. He spun and fell on his back. I slung the rifle over my shoulder, kicked myself up and started running toward the scene.

I skidded into the main part of the garden, picking up my target's wrist, taking out my knife and slicing his identification bracelet. It was customary for all people who worked for a corporation to identify themselves with a black, leather bracelet that was worn around the left wrist. I shoved it into my pocket and checked on the damage.

My target's lower intestines had been blown out of his body through an exit wound, while I could see a hole that went through one of his lungs, shredded the skin in his chest, and made an entry that I could see the floor of the garden path with. It was covered in blood, blood that was running down the path, filling all the cobble-stone cracks. The second guard I had dropped had a simple hole in the side of his head, blowing the top of his head off, sending a few pieces of his brain and an excess of blood all over a fountain. He was leaning against it, turning the water red with the liquid inside of him. As I approached the door, I noticed that one of the glass panels had been blown out. The guard's head was almost completely gone, the only thing left was the bottom half of it. Chunks of skull and pieces of brain and gore were scattered all over the door, the wall, his suit. I sighed a bit, then glanced away.

The door opened.

I pulled my pistol and aimed it toward where a head would be. Instead, I had to lower it. It was a child, the target's little boy. He looked up at me, then looked over at where his father was lying. I took a step back, keeping my pistol trained on the boy's head. He just watched me with eyes that told me he was more intelligent than most children his age. He seemed quiet too, like he expected me, like he expected this to happen. Like he knew it all along. For a moment, I figured that he did. But, only for a moment.

He closed the door behind him. "You know, I really did figure this would happen eventually. Once my father got the guards, I guess I thought that someone would come along, and the guards would actually be used." He shrugged, moving over to the fountain. He pushed on the guard, knocking him to the ground, then sat up on the side of it, folding his legs into an indian-style fashion. "I can't say that I'm happy though, he was my father, but I guess I just.. figured. You know what I mean?"

I nodded, putting the pistol back into the holster underneath my shoulder. I moved over towards him, put my hands into my pockets, then looked down at the boy. "You're not going to tell anyone that I was here? That you saw me?" He shook his head. I lowered my brows and watched him for a moment. He had eyes that were kind of like mine, with brown hair, instead of black. It was cut short, one of those bowl cuts. He was probably about eight. "Well, I know what it's like to lose a father, kid. I know how it feels, but it's different. Mine wasn't murdered. My dad killed himself. Left me and my mom to rot. Sorry about what happened here, but.. honestly, it had to be done." I shrugged, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, put one to my lips and lit it. "You see," I said, taking a drag off the cigarette, "you're gonna hate me someday, or maybe just figure that I ruined your life. And I suppose that I'm ready for that. After all, I'm in this business, but.. I want you to know, kid. It's nothing personal, it's just how the world turns."

"I know." And I believed him, I was sure that he knew. He had that look about him, like someone who knew too much about the world, who shouldn't know that much at his age. It was frightening, frightening and sad. I flicked my ashes off of my cigarette, "I'm not going to hate you though, I'm just going to remember your face. And I know you're going to remember mine. And that's going to be the start of my revenge. That's going to be the very beginning of it all. What's your name?" After a moment's hesitation, I told him. For some reason, I trusted him. "Well, Robert, my name is Samuel. Someday, we'll meet again, and I'll be on the same level as you, and then we'll see what happens. As for now, I suggest you get out of my house. Don't worry, you're safe with me. I'll tell the Longfellow officers that I didn't see anything, and I'll tell my mother that I came down to get a drink of water, noticed a broken window, and found... this." He waved a hand toward the carnage.

Backing away from the kid, I narrowed my eyes slightly and crushed my cigarette on my heel, put it back into my pocket, then shrugged, watching him. "Yeah, I guess so." I turned, walking off toward the fence that seperated the property from the road.

I heard his voice behind me. "But remember, Robert. I'll find you, and when I do.. then we'll see." Did I detect a sense of a smile on his voice? I turned around, but no one was there. Stopping for a moment, I shook my head, then hurried away from the house and the gardens.

******************

There was a car waiting for me just off the edge of the driveway. The door opened, and I could see the faintest outline of a woman's body inside. Amy leaned her head out of the door, smiled at me, then said, "Get in." With a glance back toward the house, I sighed, slipped into the passenger seat, and closed the door. She was driving.

After a couple minutes of driving, she glanced over at me, pulled out a cigarette from a coat pocket, handed it to me, then pushed down the car lighter, causing it to start the process of heating up. "How do you feel, Robert?" She asked, eyes moving back toward the road.

"I have a fucking headache," I muttered.

"Well, that's understandable." We rode in silence for a couple of minutes. The lighter popped up. I picked it up, put it to the tip of my cigarette, inhaled and dropped the cooling lighter down in the ashtray. I cracked a bit of my window and used that to flick the ashes out of. Leaning back in the seat, I closed my eyes and sighed, taking another drag off of my cigarette, trying to picture anything but the look on the man's face, the amount of carnage, that little boy. Anything but any of that. Shivering slightly, I opened my eyes and looked out into the night. I could hear thunder above the engine of the car. It would probably rain soon. Just a brief interlude of silence and nothingness, then a torrent to wash away the sin. To clean away the blood. "You'll get what else is coming to you, Robert. Don't worry." I wasn't anyway, didn't matter. "Fourty-thousand. Very nice job, even took out the guards. No witnesses at all. Too bad you didn't get their wallets, it could have been disguised as a murder-robbery. But, oh well, we'll make due with what we have. The point is, you got the job done. I knew I could count on you to."

"Count on me to what?" I asked, looking over at her, pulling my cigarette away from my lips. The wind was whipping my hair around my face, I was watching her, looking at her profile as she kept her eyes on the road. "To kill some kid's dad? That mission wasn't even fucking hard. At least in some of them, there's a chance that I could be killed. That.. that was just a goddamn slaughter, not anything that had to do with mercenary work or sport. All you had me do was wipe a family completely out. The fucking guy wasn't even armed. Sure, he had guards, but most of my targets have some rudimentary weapons knowledge. Fourty-thousand for killing an innocent? There has to be a catch to this shit, I'm just looking for what that might be." It started raining. Water drumming on the top of the car, rolling off, down my window, flowing into the cracks and dripping off the car to the street below. I imagined where else it would go from there, flowing into the bottoms of the city, the very depths, the bowels of what was known and unknown by everything and everyone who kept this place running.

Either she was thinking, or she didn't really care about the question. She glanced over at me, shrugged her shoulders, then looked back at the road. Reached her hand over, snatched the cigarette out from my lips, took a puff on it, then put it back against my lips, snaking out her pinky finger to open them slightly, then pushed it between them. A little grin was on her face, and I shook my head. "Oh, come on, Robert. There's no catch. We just needed you to do that. Sure, it makes a few things happen, the kid loses a father, the mother goes insane or something, but all in all, it's all about the higher purpose in mind, isn't it?"

"You fucking used me, you bitch. You used me to take out some hapless innocent that could have been paid off." I pounded out the cigarette in the ashtray, leaving the butt next to the lighter.

"Everyone uses everyone, Robert."

At that she pulled up next to my apartment complex. I opened the door, and she shut off the engine. She stepped out of the car as well, but I was already walking toward the complex door before she could say anything. She followed me in, followed me to the elevator, then, as the elevator doors opened, she walked in before me. I frowned, unable to think of what to do. Slumping my shoulders in defeat, I walked in as well. The doors closed and left me alone with her. I stood near the corner, leaning up against the wall, looking toward the reflection in the steel exit.

She pushed her hand against the emergency stop button.

Didn't know what really led to it, but she slipped up next to me before I noticed she even moved. She pulled me close to her, and I didn't know what exactly to do. I moved my arms around her, looking a bit confused. Then, realizing who exactly she was, and where exactly I was, I tried to push away. She held fast, though, moved a hand up and brought my chin down, pressing her lips against mine. I blinked, felt her tongue against my lips, pushing inside of them. Then, her tongue against mine. I writhed back against the elevator wall, muttered something into her mouth, tried to get away from her.

Eventually, though, I just gave in.

There's a blindness to temptation, something that feeds the human soul and keeps it in a locked cage. A cage that's inescapable at best. There was no real way of breaking out of the human skin, was no way of kicking away the pleasures of the flesh, because we all felt those pleasures. We were all members of a race that was built on physical feelings, rather than any kind of other feeling. I learned that long ago. And, something in Amy reawakened a part of me that I thought I had kicked away. A part of me that could never be destroyed. I pushed up against her, kissed her back as she kissed me, and I felt her slipping back, away from my lips. Looking down at her, she smiled up at me, moved a hand up and rested a finger on my lips. "Everyone uses everyone. How does it feel? To use, while being used at the same time?"

It was a time when revelation could become lust, and lust could become something deeper in my mind. When all human need and desire is transformed into a want or don't want basis. My hands found her hair, ran my fingers through it. I could still feel her against me. I could feel her breathing, could feel her heart-beat through the clothing. It was different than just being able to feel those things from far away, like I could with the psychic talents that I manifested. It was carnal, not intellectual. I wanted to be used. I wanted to -feel- used. I didn't want to be this hollow, empty shell anymore. I wanted to be something different, I wanted to change. I wanted... her.

But I couldn't have her. She pulled away, leaned close once more to lick at my neck, then slipped away from me, pressed the stop button once more. The elevator went to my floor quickly. I stepped out of the elevator, kept my hand on the door frame to keep it from closing and watched her. She gave a shrug, pressed the lobby button and sighed, "It wouldn't work out anyway, Robert. You and I, we're different people. So, maybe I'll talk to you again, but probably not. I've read your background, at least, what could be found. You've probably felt more hurt than this. If I did hurt you, I'm sorry. Be well.. be safe.. Goodbye." She smiled at me, and I stepped back, letting the doors close, blocking out her eyes and dissipating her face from my mind forever.

Pushing my hands into my pockets, I glanced down at the ground, then turned, walking to my apartment. I opened the door, closed it behind me, slid out of my trenchcoat then walked over to my bed.

****************************

It was 2:42 A.M. when the phone rang. It woke me up almost instananeously. I half-expected it to be Amy, then, realizing just how pathetic I was, I picked up the phone. It was silent for a minute. Then, a voice. A female one.

"Hey, Robert."

It was Eve.

I almost didn't know what to say. "Hey.. Eve.. How are you?" I smiled a bit, laughed softly and sighed. Yeah, it was a stupid question. Eve was one of thos people who were never really alright, no matter what she did. It was always a matter of depression. She was a very dark woman, but someone I loved once. And probably still did. Supressing a sigh, I closed my eyes, watching the screen of my eyelids, picturing her face.

"I'm okay, I guess." She had the tone of indecision. There was a hint of it in her voice, and a dragging of it in the way she said the words. She probably wasn't okay, she never called me unless she was feeling really down lately. She used to call me all the time. But things change, people change. That's something life teaches you right off the bat.

"Yeah.. Yeah, I guess." There was silence for a while. "I got a job. Nice. Bad benefits though. But, it's over. I think it's over for a while. They said they'll send my check in the mail. Hey, though, at least I get something to live on. Don't have to worry about scaping up the rent money, getting it out of Jaros and shit. You remember Jaros? Well, he's doing good, he's probably at his temple, talking to the Snake or something. You know him, he likes to do that." I was just trying to make conversation, babbling to the woman over the phone. I didn't want to, I didn't want her to go, though. I never wanted her to go. In fact, I wished she was there at that moment, instead of over the phone. There wasn't anything that I could dream that would be better than holding her right then. She could take everything away, make everything comfortable. Make me forget what that little boy said.

But there was silence on the line.

"Hey, Robert?" She asked, "You remember when you used to write, and when we were together, you said that you wanted to write when you got older, and that we could live on whatever your books produced? I think you should write again. Write something for me. I want to read something, I want to read your soul, like old times, you know?"

"Yeah.. Alright.. well, what do you want me to write about?"

"Anything you want, just make it for me. I miss that, being able to see what it was like to be you. Since you got that check, why don't you forget what you have to do for a little while.. You know how much I wish you were here right now?" She always had that ability, to know exactly what I wanted, and to want exactly the same thing. I squeezed my eyes harder, trying to keep the tears from escaping them. "Well.. anyway, I just wanted to call you, to see if you were still alive and everything. Hey, Robert? I love you.. Yeah.. well.. I should go. Goodnight, Robert."

"I love you t-," the line went dead. I held the phone for a moment, until it started beeping. I replaced it on the hook, opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. I could feel a tear sliding down my cheek. Reaching down, I dragged my trenchcoat near my, picked my pistol out of the holster built into the shoulder of it, then looked up at the ceiling once more.

There is a sense of clarity that comes at three in the morning. A sense of knowing that everything in the world is just going to fade into an oblivion of nothingness, and a forgetful morass of normalcy. Everything would become monotonous, everything would become monotone and boring. And all there would be is the incessant call of lonliness. But there was a way to escape the lonliness, to break away from the feelings of regret and loss. I pressed the pistol to the side of my head, staring at the ceiling.

I couldn't have her. But that wasn't the main part of this. The main part, was that I was a bad person. A horrible person, someone sick with an illness that's only cure was a hole. I was a sickness upon the world, someone lost in a void of darkness and partaking in a downward spiral that would continue to exist beyond me. I couldn't stop it, but I couldn't not participate, either. It was just how I was wired. Just how I was. Closing my eyes, I dropped the pistol to the floor, moved to the center of my bed and curled myself into a ball, wrapping my arms around my legs.

Outside, it was raining, washing away tears, blood, fears, and feelings. Everything was purified by the rain, everything was taken away, cleansed, everything was kept whole and innocent by the simple tears of the waters above. There was a sense of forboding in that, lying in my darkened apartment, listening to the sound of rain falling into my window, tapping against it, sounding something like laughter. I shivered softly and tried to pull myself closer. There was something wrong with me. Normally I wasn't like this, normally I didn't fall this far, didn't go this deep. Maybe it was all the shock. Maybe it was Amy.

"Everyone uses everyone, Robert," I could still hear her voice playing over and over in my mind. Well, if everyone used everyone, then what was Jaros, and what was Eve? People who were using me? I closed my eyes and felt tears drip over my face, falling to the blanket I was curled upon. Yes. They were people who were using me. It all made sense. There was no such thing as love. There was only that vague feeling of happiness inside of your chest that made you realize that something, anything is good in the world, instead of the incredible sense of sorrow that surrounded the complete being, the essence of your soul. And friendship.. That was a mask that hid people's true motivations. Perhaps Jaros was just using me for something. Perhaps Eve was always using me, all along. But there was something to be said about having them in my life, wasn't there? Not all people even had friends. Maybe that made me lucky?

Or perhaps it made me worse off. Without people there to use you and throw you away, perhaps you live a happier, healthier life then what you might have lived otherwise. I wasn't sure. The only thing I was sure of was the amount of fatigue I had. I knew that I wasn't going to wake up until later tomorrow. It wasn't even a fucking question, probably get up sometime in the afternoon. So, I layed there, eyes clenched shut, trying to block out thoughts.

I didn't sleep for a long time.

*************************

Another night, more feelings. Sometimes I thought I was the antipode of apathy. I couldn't just not care. So, where did that leave me? Sitting in front of a desk, writing something for Eve. Something that she would like, something that she would feel was good enough to keep, good enough to have and hold and be with her forever. That was something about Eve I always liked. She always kept everything I wrote, never threw anything away, despite how far we got away from eachother. Made me feel like she really liked reading it, instead of simply saying that she did to make me happy. I had put a fresh coat of black on my fingernails earlier today, and now I was almost done writing.

I finished the last sentence, then stood up, cracking my knuckles, looking down at the computer, saving whatever I had done, then walking toward the hole in the wall. Opening it, I climbed up the ladder, pulled up the chair and put it out underneath the awning. It wasn't raining that hard, just drizzling a little, but I figured I didn't want to be that wet right now. I rested my hands behind my head, looking out over the city.

There was something beautiful about the city at night. The way the lights seemed to gather together, how everything was joined and melded together in an expression of lights and music and everything else that personified human community. It was the complete sociality of the human race that I had always either taken for granted or completely appreciated. You had to appreciate a race that had its roots in a social standing, rather than solitary confinement, away from your own species. Maybe I was just different, then. I prefered to be alone, to be honest. I didn't really feel like going out anymore, I used to go to so many different clubs, and now.. Now I was content to be at home, talking to the thoughts inside of me, instead of having to worry about talking to other people, keeping up friendships, caring about anyone too much. Everyone left anyway. Everyone always left you, and just when you needed them the most.

That's why trust was always something that's so hard to give. People left too frequently to fully put your trust into them. And when you did finally trust them, they would show you how it was impossible to trust anyone at all. They would do something to earn your emnity. That's how most of my relationships with people ended up. Jaros and I had a work-based relationship. I didn't have to worry about him in a job, he could handle himself, and he would watch my back when I would watch his. It was easier that way. We weren't really friends, but we were a bit more than acquaintances. We were business partners, and that was enough for me. I didn't have to worry about anyone getting angry about a missed birthday or anything like that. All I had to worry about was knocking off some asshole trying to shoot him.

If only normal relationships could be like that, then I wouldn't have to care, wouldn't have to care about not having anyone there to be with, when I, myself, simply don't want anyone to be there. The worst kind of lonliness was the kind that you understood, and, in some cases, welcomed. I couldn't say that I welcomed it completely, but it was a change from the normal dullness of having someone there, knowing someone's there, and not being able to see them all the time. Sometimes boredom was a worse pain than any kind of sadness or physical injury could bring.

I could see lightning striking off in the distance. The vengeful anger of the clouds, striking out because whomever made them cry. It was a rightly punishment, forced upon the land. The earth and the sky were lovers that had many fights, some small, some big, but they always came back together, despite whatever would happen, they stayed together. I closed my eyes, sighed, and leaned back against the chair, resting my hands on my lap. I didn't want to have to care anymore, but something about that job yesterday showed me that I needed to, in order to find what exactly I had been missing all of my life.

I wasn't like that little boy. He wasn't me, but I couldn't help but picture my face on his, couldn't help but wonder what exactly would have happened if my father didn't kill himself, if he would have stayed alive. And now I couldn't help but wonder what would happen to that boy, if he would really hold true to his promise. There was something pure in a promise like that, a promise for revenge. Something untouchable. But, that boy had a reason for revenge. So did I, but I didn't know who to exact my vengance upon. So, maybe that was why I was like how I was. That was why I was always looking for something inside of me to eat out the hollowness that was all around me. I couldn't stop putting my face on that boy's.

Maybe that's what I needed, an outlet for revenge. Someone that I could hate. Someone that I could really despise. Everyone needed someone to hate, someone that they could feel an extreme sense of discomfort around, someone they could fantasize being killed in various ways. There was something about hate that made it a common human emotion. Hate and love were two of a kind, but only love was a complex emotion. Hatred was something that came natural to the human race. Everyone hated someone, and sitting there, I realized, so did I.

I hated myself.

__________________
Thoughts, feelings, cold.

I love it when Darkling touches my forehead.