Still

There was blood everywhere. Christian stood, rooted to the spot. The
blood was seeping from his every pore; it was in his tears and in his
mouth and nostrils. He had done all he could for her and now he felt
utterly helpless. He looked down at her, each lacerated limb and each
bruise, the colours of the night sky which enveloped them. His hands
trembled uncontrollably as he whispered desperate prayers under his
breath which eventually gave way to a choked sob, more animal than
human.

Christian cried out in his sleep as he struggled against the blanket.
When he sat up he tentatively ran his fingers over the scar that ran
from his chest to his right thigh: his reminder.
*

Alice followed Christian into the room silently. He walked over to what
appeared to be the bed in what was effectively a one room apartment and
hastily tried to make room for her to sit beneath all the mess. Alice
stood just inside the door, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dim
light. Meek sunlight filtered in through the single window which was
directly opposite the door and an incredible amount of duct meandered
aimlessly in and out of the dwindling stream of light. Under her feet
the bare floorboards groaned each time she so much as twitched. An
overflowing desk was set in the left hand corner of the room, the dusty
lamp hunchbacked beneath the ceiling which sloped downwards on that
side of the room. The single bed in the right hand corner was covered
in photographs, books and sketches.

When Christian was satisfied with the clearing he had made he gestured
to Alice to be seated. He went and stood by the window, arms folded,
eyes distant.

Alice smiled as she sat down, "it doesn't look as though you get much
sleep," she jested as she eyed the clutter.
"No," was Christian's murmured reply. She had no idea.

After what seemed like an age of silence, Christian strode to his desk
and after rummaging through piles of photographs produced a battered
packet of Marlborough cigarettes. He lifted one of the two to his mouth
and wordlessly offered the other to Alice who merely shook her head.
After having lit it, he sucked deeply at the filter and exhaled in what
seemed to be a sigh of relief. Alice sighed too. It had been like this
since she had met him. She wanted to get close to him but she could not
break down these barriers. She thought that in his own apartment he
would have felt more comfortable, more confident, but he was more
distant than ever. The most frustrating thing was that she could not
even explain to herself why she had fallen for him. He was not all that
attractive. He had jet black hair which hid the top of his eye brows
and eyes so brown that it was hard to distinguish between iris and
pupil. His nose was slightly misshapen, a sporting accident, she
imagined. Lurking at his temples were a few unforgiving pock marks. He
was only very slightly taller than she and his hands had a
distinctively feminine quality.

She thought that the strangest thing about him was the way he dressed,
he always wore black. Today, black jeans, a black polo neck and a black
coat so long that it reached midshin. The clothes strewn about the bed,
Alice noticed, were also black.

She supposed he intrigued her.

He exhaled again and turned to face her. She could feel his eyes
burning through her and quickly became uncomfortable. Trying to break
the silence and the intensity of his stare she picked up one of the
photographs. It was of a woman's hands. She supposed the woman was old,
creases were visible on the backs of her hands so the skin looked like
unironed silk. She smiled, "you mentioned you were a photographer."
Christian nodded as he extinguished the stub of the cigarette in the
dregs of some coffee in a chipped mug.

Alice looked at some of the other photographs, ankles, eyes, lips,
never a full figure, just features. As she laid them to one side, Alice
smiled confidently, "would you take my picture for me?" Christian
shrugged and half nodded.

Taking the camera from the desk he crossed the room, through the
barrier of light to where Alice sat. Frowning for a moment, he first
studied her fragile hands and wrists, then her delicate exposed
collarbone and neck. Then, as she sat perfectly still, he studied her
faultless face. Again, Alice felt his stare burning through her. Up
close, his eyes were not clouded as she thought they would have been,
but clear, like tiger's eye, and somehow knowing, as if he knew things
about her even she did not. She desperately wanted to know him, to help
him and as if it might offer some comfort she placed the rather clammy
palm of her hand against his cheek. His concentration was broken and in
that second he let the barrier down, he allowed their lips to meet. He
closed his eyes.
*
The blood was everywhere, his animal cry receded to a pitiful
whimpering as he knelt on the ground, wishing for an end to the
oppressive darkness. As the blood from his wound mixed with hers and
the rain diluted it and finally washed it away, he lay on the ground,
unable to move as if some crushing force prohibited it, and covered his
face with his trembling hands.
*
The camera fell to the ground with a crack and he jerked away from
Alice and stood up, all in one movement. Standing by the window
Christian laid his forehead against the frigid glass and slammed his
fist against the wall. His scar burnt and the bridge of his nose
throbbed.

Alice remained on the bed, bewildered for a few moments, before rising
unsteadily. She had just seen something in Christian's eyes that could
not be described as anything but pure fear and it was something she
knew was beyond her understanding.

The pair remained in this tableau as dusk neared and night fell, as if
frozen in time until Alice wondered if the earth really had stopped
spinning. While they had stood there, she had heard a grown man sob and
felt helpless, there was no comfort she could offer.

As the shadows began to steel the light, all Christian could hear was
the steady pattering of the rain as it carried the blood to the
streams, the streams to the rivers and the rivers to the oceans.