If I could fighthimoff with brute strength I would, but that’s not going to work, and I’m slipping further into a hole of abusing my body because of his torment in my brain.
“Dude, you gonna stop one of these days? Geez.” The captain says, poking his balding head into the gym as I finish getting dressed, slamming my new helmet on my head so I can go for a ride. I need the wind on me, to blow away the sweat and the hate that resides on and in me.
“No.” I grumble behind the mirrored visor as I slap the Pista shut with a sharp nod of my head.
“Suit yourself. But nothing in this life is worth what you’re putting yourself through. Not even grade-A prime pussy.”
“Fuck you.” I snarl, stalking past him, elbowing him in the ribs out of annoyance as I pass him in the hallway.
I need my bike, the only thing in this world that listens to me when I need something to talk to. She hears me, and takes my words, turning them into the screams of her throttle so that I don’t have to wail out my pain. She does it for me.
She’s waiting for me in the garage, all clean and gleaming under the bright overhead lights. Her black paint shines and the red accents seem to glow like freshly spilled blood on her sleekness. She’s a sight for sore eyes, and she calls to my compression suit clad body for me to ride her hard.
You can’t ride me away. I’m here to stay. Pussy.
“Fuck off.” I grumble, sitting on her seat, turning the key, and flipping the ignition switch on.
Her engine rumbles, then screeches as I twist the throttle, revving her loudly, letting her sound echo through the garage where it bounces off the side of the fire trucks, coming back to me even louder.
I click on the music in my helmet, twisting the knob on the side, turning up the volume to a level where I can’t hear anything else except the beat of the song as I kick her into first gear and roll her slowly from the garage doors out onto the street. As soon as her front tire hits the road, I lift my feet, kick her up and take off into the early evening.
If you’re going to ride, let’s look for something to burn. A whore, a druggie, something. It’s been too long.
“No.”
Awww, come on. It’ll be fun.
“No.”
Pussy.
“Prick.” I shout as I turn left onto a side street, escaping the city traffic so I can get out onto the turnpike and the open road faster.
The narrow city streets widen, and the houses turn to businesses. I drive onward, going up the ramp, and spit us out onto the highway. Sound barrier walls on either side keep her sound bottled in as I shift up and up, careening into the flow of traffic, blending in at first, before I take off like a bat out of hell.
I can’t see the cars round me, all I can see is Phoenix and the way she reached out for me when I backed away. I can’t hear the horns of the cars as I’m weaving in and out of them like a madman. All I can hear is her voice as she called out to me when I stormed out of her apartment in my still damp clothes that rubbed my skin as raw as her voice shredded my heart. I left her there, with no explanation again, but this time the connection was too deep for me to just walk away, and it’s been one fucking week trying to stay away from her.
I need to be away from her presence. If I wind up doing something to her that I don’t want to do I’ll never forgive myself. I don’t care how many whores and drug addicts I burn, in facthe’sright, I should do one, it might make me feel better, but I can’t listen tohimwhen it comes to her. She doesn’t deserve my flames. The only one she’s been a whore with is me, and that’s my fault, my doing. She can’t be punished for what I’ve created in her.
“Should I? Should I ‘work’ tonight? Would it make me feel better, when just an hour ago I said no?” I ask myself inside my helmet as I streak past a big rig, reaching out to touch its trailer with my gloved hand.
Do it. You know I’m right. I’ve always been right.
“No. I shouldn’t.”
If you do it, I’ll leave her alone.
“Fuck!”
Cars blast past me as I pull over into an emergency cutout in the center barricade of the highway and bang a U-turn onto the southbound lanes. I need to be back in the city if I’m going to appease him and make him shut up.
The cars whiz by faster and faster as I kick the shifter up and up again. I need to get back to the city, back to the shelter of the buildings and the underpasses, and back to my hunting grounds where I'm comfortable and can search in secret without being seen by prying eyes. The highway narrows again, and I take the off ramp towards center city. Wide open roads become narrow streets lined with the businesses and then the houses again.
The sun is setting as I drive through the city, the bright blues of the sky turning into the red, orange, purple hues that show that dusk is approaching. The trash will be coming out from their hiding places once the sky turns dark, when they can move around the city like rats, shrouded in the night, going unnoticed in their filthy ways.
The whores will step out onto the corners, and the dealers will peddle their goods in the shadows, but I’ll know they’re there. I can smell them, sense them, and if the voice in my head needs me to sacrifice another one of them for him to allow me my angel, then that’s what I’ll do.
I never had a problem with it before. I blame her, she’s tainted me, made me become something I’m not, just as I’ve ruined her and turned her into something she wasn’t before she met me.
