Artistikem

He is trying to talk to me but that darn kid of his is playing with his new helicopter too near us. The thing flies close to us and away, then back, almost hitting Jim on the head before disappearing.

“You see, Kathy, the problem is that we need a better mailing system.” Jim dodges the helicopter by an inch. “Dan! How many times must I tell you what you are doing is rude?”

“Can’t we have this conversation somewhere else? I mean, this is your kid’s birthday party. Nothing to do with work.” I am really annoyed by him talking about work on top of having to endure the little kids playing around us.

“I’ll just say this and nothing else, because it really bothers me when clients call saying their packages haven’t arrived and learning that our messenger is sitting on his ass… DAN!”

I catch the helicopter mid-flight, hold it with both hands and break it in two with my knee. Jim takes a perplexed look at it before handing it to the boy. The kid runs to his mother, carrying the broken helicopter and crying.

“I think that’s my cue to leave.”

“I think you should be our new nanny.”

It was almost midnight when I arrived at Queen Abigail’s studio. She closed the book and lowered her gaze. I was late; the princess had been taken hostage by our lifetime enemies, those who invaded our territory under King Banquo’s orders.

She had read the story’s ending. It had been written centuries ago. There was nothing to do. The castle was surrounded by King Banquo’s men; they screamed the queen’s name, demanded war. She had brought peace to our kingdom, just as the book told, and now King Banquo threatened to take it all away.

The noblemen were gathered, the castle’s lights turned off. Mistresses ran around the city not knowing where to go. There were no orders, no voice shouting for us to draw our swords. If I had to go back I would’ve done the same. Staring into my queen’s eyes I didn’t wait for her to nod. I turned to the men, the army, and said:

“If this is our last night as a kingdom of peace, let’s make it a good one.”

I, a maiden still in nightgown. I, the queen’s servant, was ready to fight. As I rushed to dress and grabbed my sword my hands never shook, nor did my voice. Knights waited in silence outside my door, they all knew what we had to do. I was brought a horse, rode next to our champion, and embraced for battle. Our guns weren’t as sophisticated as our enemy’s, but our will was stronger.

The cries, the splashes of blood, I rode through it all, swiftly stabbing enemies with my sword. I had been ready for this since the day I was born.

The queen opened the book again and re-read the ending. Outside, women cried for mercy from the intruders who had no time for it. From the youngest to the oldest, they were all murdered as I made my way to the other side.

My horse was slashed from under me, but I was shielded by men making way for me to get there, to where we had to set our flag in order to be victorious.

As I traveled through the path of dirt and death I remembered how the witches once said it was all in my hands. That it was I the one who would bring our kingdom back to life. The daughter that was never called as one. Protected entirely for this moment. The moment where it would be revealed who I was.

As I left the battlefield behind, I drew a mask to my face and signaled the men to stay back. King Banquo was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, his mighty eyes waiting for me. I didn’t shudder like the legends told everyone did in his presence.

“Are you the sacrifice?”

“Yes, sir, I am.”

The princess winced to my voice. King Banquo didn’t stir.

“Drop your sword and come closer. On your knees.”

I felt the soil under me as I made my way to him. The tip of his blade pushed my chin up for him to see me.

“Take her mask off.” He ordered his men and before I could fight them, my mask was gone.

When my eyes met his, King Banquo dropped to his knees.

“What is this?”

“We must fulfill the prophecy, my Lord.” A man approached us; with a stern voice he tried to wake King Banquo from his thoughts.

“I am the sacrifice. Kill me and fulfill the prophecy at once.”

A dagger was pushed to King Banquo’s hands. The princess was released and brought to our side. Somewhere in the distance my queen sat on her chair and stared blankly into the wall.

“No, this can’t be possible.” King Banquo threw the dagger away, it made a loud sound when it hit the ground. “So many years searching for you. I had men looking for you high and low. I was so desperate I thought you were dead.”

“You must do it!” The man with the stern voice demanded as he put the dagger back into King Banquo’s hands.

“Kill me, father. It must be done.”

He peered into my eyes. “The day your mother took you away from me I thought I would die, and now this? I cannot do it.”

“You must.”

Keeping my eyes fixed on his, I wrapped my hands around his holding the dagger. King Banquo shuddered, his eyes filled with moist as the steel opened my skin, ripped its way inside me. The taste of blood coming out my mouth, the smell of it, was nauseating.

He held me in his arms while I gently drifted off and died. He cradled me, letting his tears drop on my now cold skin and declared:

“Hereby I surrender my kingdom to Queen Abigail. Let her sentence me to death by whatever manner she chooses.”

The men around us gasped, but King Banquo’s orders were never to be questioned. It was all in the prophecy, the part of it only my queen and I knew.

My knees shake as I enter the place reeking of cigarettes. The strappy stilettos that hold my feet don’t match with the black that repeats itself on every surface, contrasting with the colorful tattoos on everyone’s arms and necks. My fluttery silk skirt stays stiff, as if fearing its surroundings. I am not scared, not inside at least, because I am determined to do what I’m going to do.

I approach the pair of dark eyes framed by glinting silver piercings waiting behind the counter. He eyes my long hair from top to bottom, and that is where it meets my hips.

“I’m here to get a haircut.”

“This is a barber shop.” He says reluctantly as his eyebrows meet each other on the bridge of his nose which also has a piercing through it.

“Exactly what I need.”

He escorts me to a chair, crossing through the sea of estranged looks shot my way. I sit down and see myself on the mirror. Myself, something I had lost a long time ago and was here to reunite with. The chubby barber stands behind me. Everyone around freezes when he asks:

“What would you like?”

I think about it for a moment and remember why I am here. I am here because of him, the man that made my life a nightmare.

I throw my hair back on the chair for the barber to see it clearly. That part of me I loved so much, that he loved so much but also used to yank, to pull, to torture me with. He loved it but used it against me.

“Shave it.”

A collective gasp goes through the place like a wave.

“Excuse me?”

“Shave it.”

Because I want to be myself again.

“Don’t shoot me, please.”

“Why? Why shouldn’t I kill you right now, this instant, with this gun, with a bullet to your head?”

“There are things in life worth living, you know? Reasons not to kill me, reasons for you not to go to jail.”

“Who said I was going to jail?”

“The police will get you eventually, and you will be jailed for my murder.”

“Crap… No, no they won’t. I will make it look like an accident.”

“Shooting me down from six feet is no accident.”

“Dammit. What about if I get closer?”

“A few more steps will do. A contact shot.”

“Then I’ll push it to your forehead.”

“And don’t forget to write a suicide note on my behalf.”

“Does your child know how to swim?”

“I don’t know.”

“How can you not know? That is a matter of life and death. What if he falls into a river? He could drown.”

“There are no rivers nearby.”

“Or a pool.”

“We have no pool.”

“There are pools everywhere. He could be invited by one of his schoolmates, say, to a pool birthday party. You know how long it takes for your lungs to get filled by water? Seconds. And you are still conscious for a couple of minutes, so you are aware you are dying.”

“He is only six months old, Frank. He can worry about drowning later on. Though, not if it involves drowning by vomit, of course.”

Bruised men aren’t like any other bruised being in the world. You feel lost in a pond of dark waters and infinite depth.

There was no need for explanations, especially the long ones she constructed as a façade to our disgrace. Stop talking, please, spare me the damage of another winter of self-punishment. To undergo another deception because I wanted to have someone, someone for shits and giggles, for the sex because it was great. Because with her I didn’t feel alone, because with her I didn’t feel bruised anymore. Because…

Because I was stupid enough to think there is a woman out there that can put up with me.

Gibberish, that is all I hear coming out of her lips and I don’t want to be here. In this place filled with strange faces, in this place where everything you say seems to echo inside so many brains eavesdropping by. I don’t want this because I have suffered it before and I hated it then as much as I do now.

I need to get out of here fast. The ceiling is coming down, the floor is pushing me upwards, making me feel devoid from that precious gas called oxygen and without which I can’t breathe.

Fuck. Fuck all this. I’m out.

I strode my way out of the restaurant. Once I was outside the air filled my lungs once more, the color came back to my face and I felt like a person again. Funny how lately every time she wasn’t with me I felt like a person. Like a human being with all its pros and cons. With my will.

I turned back, raced inside and she was still there crying her eyes out. She hadn’t noticed I had stepped out. Why would she? If she never noticed I was bruised. Because when she met me I was already on my knees, crying for help just like her only silently. Mute cries that went on every night and came to me every morning. It was that bad.

She gasped when she felt me standing next to her seat. Her gaze met mine in plead for me not to go, not to walk away from her.

But I had done it already.

So this time I ran away from her, from the restaurant, away from these streets, away from the lights and into the darkness of the winter that was waiting for me with its cold arms.