𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝙸𝚂 𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙴𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚆𝚁𝙾𝙽𝙶 𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴 . i can’t tell you what , or how , or why , but i can feel it – a pull on the skin , when the scene splays out & the lines aren’t quite right . & i know my role , your very own KING OF HELL , set with the red violence of a rotten underbelly , all filled up on blood & want & teeth . people don’t know what to do with it , the dry - mouthed terror of being alive – find the world full of gaping mouths , ready / to consume & be consumed . they can’t hold themselves in , their souls so big & heavy they spill out of their skin , trembling in the wake of all that person - hood . it can eat you raw , the simple act of existence , & so often horror bends into something vicious . they have found the cruelty human beings can inflict upon each other & matched it , word for word , step for step , & that is where you will find me : a mirrored image of humanistic unraveling .
but this girl , she is a void . i reach out to find the familiar lines of human existence & she is gone . the body is not a machine , not to me , not anymore . i used to think of it as such , putting names to pieces to make it easier to understand . i have them all memorized , each organ & bone & slick , wet noise , smacking just underneath a person’s skin . i could give you an estimate on the amount of years a man has before he will die , as the weight of living degrades a person — the ritual sacrifice of being human . but this girl ? nothing . living leaves its own fingerprints , but there are no popping joints , no childhood injuries , nothing set or solid or real she can lay claim to , that i can deem familiar & mark as hers , & a primordial shucking of logic begins to overtake me . this is wrong . who are you ? who are you ? i still , i do not breathe , i make no sound as i move toward her — the remembrance of her stature , her soft - shelled presence , & a moment too late i relax into stance of quiet nonthreatening .
❝ it’s not safe here , ma’am . ❞ the heavy scent of garbage , rot , & skin haunts this alley , thick enough to choke on . i swallow it down & maintain my distance . fists unclench . a slight hunch of the shoulders . i nod in her direction , trying not to react against the visceral reactions spurring just below the surface . ❝ what are you doing here ? ❞ i cannot help but ask , but it’s a fair enough question , & i twist toward the mouth of the alley , an exit available to us both [ i could find her again if need be — the inhuman blankness of her is a beacon . ] ❝ do you need help getting somewhere ? ❞
i see it, his apprehension and his questioning and his confusion and it pleases me as much as anything can in this filthy world, with all its undeniable horror and its cruelty. and yet, i want to tell him: we are one and the same. don’t you see? we are two sides of the same coin. we act as gears in the same machine, i at the beginning of it and you at the end, completing the action that i have begun to put in motion. but, as a machine, we cannot be started on our own. we must be activated by something outside of ourselves, and that great activator is sin. it is human evil. it beckons and we come running to goad it or to curb it, depending on which side of the coin you land on — me or you. nanno or daredevil. there is a part of me that delights in finding a camaraderie with him that he has not agreed to nor even knows about. this will disappear soon. humans are never worth trusting nor finding entertainment in. i know my own role. my involvement is brief and direct. i do only what i feel necessary and i find no purpose in anything other than that. of course, it is amusing, it is always amusing, but in that controlled way that only exists within the rules and circumstances i make.
we are surrounded by the grime of the city and i would crinkle my nose in disgust if it did not compromise the face i have crafted for him (and for many people before him). it reminds me of everything i despise; the dirt and the evil and all that i wish to destroy with my chaotic touch, ghosting these hands over someone else’s and leading them to reach towards their own awful, awful desires that i know they have. they always do. always, always. i look at him and i tilt my head. i realize now that i have not given him the time that he deserves. you... what damage could you do? how close do you walk the line between justice and destruction? the question could be called hypocritical and turned back on myself if it were presented to someone other than myself and this man, perhaps to an impartial bystander (like you), but it really means nothing. there is a difference between us clear as day to me. he is human. what an awful thing to be.
i once again notice that tension within his posture and it does pique my interest, i must admit. a terrible grin threatens to play at the corners of my lips as i examine the situation. a teenage girl causing a grown man to near shudder! i could laugh, loud and boisterous, but now is not at all the time. my girl-soft voice invades the air. “i got lost. i was looking for something, but... i didn’t find it.” of course this is a lie. i found exactly what i wished to find. he stands before me. the devil of hell’s kitchen, hm? i want to laugh, i want to laugh, i want to laugh. he calls me ma’am. how nice of a devil he seems when he isn’t doing the dirty work. beneath the constructed loveliness of my face, molded into the look of innocence i desire, i am grinning. “i am new to the city. i don’t know my way around... but i can get home fine.” i have my exit if need be, but i wish to lengthen the encounter. i finally laugh, but it is not mine, but rather that quiet and nervous sound that only teenage girls make. “i admit — i did not expect to have to admit my... lostness. especially not to...” i purposefully trail off and craft an embarrassed blush upon my round cheeks. he’s twice my size and dressed like that, a fact which i am sure he is not likely to forget when faced with someone who looks as i do. i beg him to take pity on what appears to be nothing more than a young girl who has turned up somewhere she has not intended to be.
