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Her coils bounced spirals of sable ringletting, framing her face. Frances could see David, but, the wish to speak to him stuck in her throat as she sat gasping with it there waiting for it to come out. The desire to speak that could not be pushed far enough away the first time she saw him, could not be manifested now. The first time she saw, the first time she felt that scream slide up and down her vertebrae, rattling it like a xylophone. That same primitive calling had shouted out to her and she had answered. The answer had been her running through the street to him. By the stars she had answered his ripping plea for company of which he had none. Frances had taken him in, enveloped him into their society, convinced the others, defied James' orders, laid her neck down on the cutting block, prepared to be sliced in two-All of this for David. All of it to feel the burning of David’s eyes join in hers- David. And now the mere sight of him pushed her feet in the opposite direction, trying to make her run. Get as far away as possible. If necessary fall back into the arms of James and beg of his forgiveness. But, before her in the giant night David stood, there stood the opportunity to right the wrong. David's face pivoted and turned suddenly to her, it paled at her sight. He could see the pain in her face and suddenly the rain didn't feel as orgasmic. The air wasn't as crisp. And the blackness didn't hold as much comfort. David and Frances bonded through sight, but their hearts ripped apart, tearing jagged pieces bathed with that life that drove them on everyday.
 Within her mind, Frances decided that if she let her senses go and returned to David, ignoring her pride as it slid away, She would still make up for it by feeding her heart. The only other possibility would be for her to go back with James, these memories of him, were everyday realities for her. But, would getting back, crawling back into the confines of his arms, only to be beaten back-thrown and battered, but accepted, be worse? With all this confusion she fell into herself and didn't even realize when David reached out to her, when he put his arms around her, holding her with all of his might. Close, so close that the beating of his heart could be heard echoing throughout her ears. Echoing through her skin, flesh pounding the rhythm out in sync and harmony. Frances's face buried itself into David's shoulder. Deep within the folds of his jacket. The scent, that overpowering leather oil smell filled her nostrils- rings and lines sizzling through her sinuses. Sending her flying back through time, back to that first night that she had glimpsed David. Stark and black except for his face which glowed out against the midnight hour darkness. Frances had seen David then, and forever within her mind...

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The doorway was an arch, raising slightly above David's hair. His ebony locks pointed towards the constellations in frantic spikes. Frances took the initiative, something, which must have been instinctual, for she had never been permitted to partake of it before. Her hand reached out just the same, grabbing his hand- leading him into the world in which she believed he belonged. Something in her soul told her that she was meant to bring David to James, That somehow beneath the stripes of neon lights they were meant to be acquainted. He, David did not mind being led into the darkly sculpted structure, though this was against his own nature, he allowed it to continue because the heat that penetrated his hand from hers felt reassuring and lit up his entire body. The scream that he had issued had been a form of prayer for David, A way to reach someone, to call out for a savior, and the ending result had been just that. He had reached this lovely girl he saw before him. Had found a savior within this archway through which he now stepped. The room was colorful, Rainbow lights mounted on continually swiveling pins which illuminated the faces of the people; like a clowns makeup rubs off at the circus. The dark shone deep, their eye-sockets lay dull and lifeless within their sunken skulls.  In the center of the spherical room there stood a pit-like structure with steps leading down into unknown darkness. In the blackness crept a singular beam of forthwith changing light. David's face was rigid, square in build, and smooth to the touch. He glared at the light and caught a faint glimpse of the face. The faint glimmer of a forehead over the rocky steps. Frances must have seen it also, because the comfort for David was left to float around the room when she suddenly dropped her hand from his. Her hand fell from its interlocked position, feeling like a piece of him had disengaged. And David stood there, alone feeling in unfamiliar territory, but something told him he could not leave or even attempt it, for else everything would be ruined...

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From the dark pit blossomed now that mysterious face. White with a very slight pink under glow. Frances' nature killed itself in the wake of this new person, David watched as the muscles in her face relaxed in an involuntary motion of compliance. She could see James, his face masked with unfeeling intrusion. David suddenly dropped his head, unsure why. Maybe he didn't belong in this place, maybe these people were not the people to which he wanted to pledge his salvation. David saw James' boots beneath his nose, their silver pointed toes jutting out from beneath black vinyl pants. David could feel those eyes on him, could feel his stare burning bright holes in his head. David looked up in a mild manner, not really afraid of James', more of what he would say or do himself. When their eyes met the electricity of two parallel personality's shocked through the air, undeterred James still looked at David's cool blue glow. 
 The moment he looked into James' eyes, his fear oozed away, slid down like melting ice cream overflowing a child's fingers in the warm summer sunshine. His smile, that killer smile that either made you fall madly for David, or want to run screaming the other direction and never look back. The second reaction is only if, perchance you catch that evil undertone in the way his teeth arc, or maybe it's the way the corners of his mouth slant in opposite directions. It may drive a normal person crazy. But, James simply smiled his own smile back. Not as impactive, but still lit with enough attention and power to burn David's face with slight frustration.

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"Who are you?" James asked of David, an insinuating tone flying through the air to whip Frances beat her about the face, in a confrontation of disloyalty. James slowly tapped his cane against his hand. The bridging of petrified wood and thin, long, unmarred flesh making a sickening slapping noise. A drum that resounded throughout the cavernous room. David glanced at Frances in a last effort to find the truth in her eyes. She did not answer him aloud, but, with the deepness of her look, verbalization was completely unnecessary. Her face opened itself, showing that she yearned only for help. This was a plea to reach out. Composition returned with great strength and will to David. He raised himself to James' level. The sleeves of his vintage suit jacket flapping like ravens wings, tattered. He sat determined to talk to this boy before him. His school-yard bully attitude holding him on a pedestal of some type with these people. David, though unaware of the mysterious factor which James held above these peoples heads, still ready for the next blow that could be seen formulating on James' tongue. James shot out his words hissed them out.
 "Why Frances?" Not caring, not concerned or even curious. It was accusatory. His form of a threat. Frances didn't answer back-didn't even look at James, Just concentrated on the wall beyond him. Anything to avoid those deep eyes, and they’re soul searching. Silent tears began to slide in salty tracks down her warm cheeks. They broke and crested on her bottom lids, rolling quickly over the slight imperfections in her makeup. That makeup that perfectly enhanced her facial structure, to the fullest. Made her slightly pouting lips into deep rose blooms that were ripe and ready to fall from the vine. In those lips, in those eyes, the sympathy of two people-both shunned and desperate for attentions, desperate for help, met. 
 David did not now know, but was soon to learn that though few words escaped James' small dark lips, every word and its impact deeply shook anyone within listening distance. Especially when James' words fell into Frances' ears. His words of mistrust and hate.  James walked slowly, decidedly with a thudding step across the floor. Moving over to Frances, slightly glancing, glaring up and down her-sizing her up, watching for sudden movements, a rebellion against him that would never happen. 
 During all of this, the others had melted into the walls. They had become camouflaged within the swiftly moving light swirls. But, at James' intention towards Frances, their faces alighted and the surroundings of David became alive and writhing. Their eyes glowing with expectation. Waiting for the fall of what they desired. James could see the fear in her eyes, could feel her muscles as hard as stone vibrating through the air to him, throbbing through the aura of the wind straight into his pores. Making the pleasure he felt heighten and his lips curve into a menacing smile. He let his hand rose, slicing through the air with a sword-like movement. David's face was a mask of fright, expectation and perspiration. James' hand, fingers grasping the cane making his knuckles white as the bones that lay beneath the flesh, came searing down, a burning flame of fire with which to cut Frances' feeling. Her bones let out a telltale cracking noise and she fell to the ground in a humbled pile. 
 The faces grinned, pain full yet loving every moment of it. David's hands shielded his view of the terrible scene, though his body could feel exactly what was happening. Frances raised her tear-stained face, looking straight into James eyes, driving James, provoking him to hit her again. And so he once again raised that wooden cane of his into the air. But, before he could send it back to her, another thought broke through his one track mind. This one was better, would be more electrifying to Frances than any beating he could produce. James' eyes sparked with an evil green glimmer that signified sinister thought within. David could feel James' emotions, could sense the way that he thought and expected exactly what James was going to say. Being the way he was, David decided to beat him to the punch.
 "Challenge Me," David dared James, motioning towards his chest with both his elongated index fingers. After a moment of soaking up the questioning look on James' face, David recoursed somewhat impatiently. "I'm waiting." His low raspy voice touching its tentacles upon the heads of all those present. They shivered, shivered at the one voice they had heard rambling through the building that was more hair prickling than James'. The look of shock absorbed into James' eyes-beaming itself into the souls of the onlookers for but a moment before that powering glare returned to grace his features. The look that told David it would take more than he was giving out at the moment to chip the ice from this boy's mind. To unfreeze his way of thinking. His usual coolness broke through the embarrassment that James felt by being challenged by a stranger, the frost returned to his voice.  Frances had been the only one to see James crumbling under David's stare. And this led her to feel more hope than she ever remembered feeling, all to the account of David.
 "I'm not challenging you," The sound of his voice raised with the sugary sweetness of a doctor whose job it was to inform a paralyzed child of his condition. "I'm inviting you." an octave higher on the word inviting made Frances shiver.  For Frances knew like no one else knew, the mechanisms in which James mind worked, how horrific they could become. Her insides burned with anticipation to tell David of the animal that sat before him, but she was powerless to move, that other instinct, the one that marks survival took over her body. She knew that James planned to lure David into the confines of his personal society-or something worse, much worse, whatever, in fact, idea happened to take over James at the last moment. But, David knew nothing, he only relaxed mildly and sat back to accept the invitation- expecting the boy to be playing the routine bully again. Frances knew better, she could see the hate within James-could see it radiating from him in a deep magenta hue that spread out all around him and enveloped the entire room. David let his bright smile illuminate the annoyances in James' air, only making him sink deeper into his hate. 
 "In that case," David once again spread his wings in that gesture, which he fancied, drew attention to any point he made. "I accept." The fateful two words escaped David's simple thin lips. In a few hours, months, years, minutes, David would realize the full impact of those two minuscule words. "I accept," would become his fate- become all of their fates. Frances could tell, could smell the scent of hate and death mingling in with the natural crisp scent- a mixture that could only mean a change in destiny.

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James swallowed hard, choking on the pride that clumped and curdled in his throat. He stepped ahead of all the others- the few who were chosen to come with them that night. James had forcibly brought Frances with, thoroughly anticipating what her reaction would be, wanting her to be present on this monumental occasion. He had also of coarse, been accompanied by David, the grande royalty and precious gem of why they were there in the first place. And an anonymous person to keep Frances busy, away from him for the night. A few non-descript others had been brought along, simply to even things out a bit and make the known company larger. Decreasing the risk.
 He led the way into the street, darkened and damp, no light shining, as the small troop splashed along on foot- like a marching band in a July fourth parade. David lingered near the back, debating within himself what was happening-the destination of the journey was completely unknown to him. He could see James a bit away from him, and Frances fell in step by his side. Lending comfort to him by her presence.
  David could see James yelling, his lips moving in grandious words and gestures. But his sense of hearing was nullified by Frances. The moment when the ceremonious screeching proceeded, Frances grabbed David’s face, quickness and yearning her only guides. She turned him around- the coldness in her fingers jabbing deep into his flesh-saturating him. Her warm breath lapped across his neck with the daintiest tongue- her words fell smoothly into his ear, caressing and massaging the coils of cartilage and skin. 
 "I know not why I brought thee hither," she spoke in the quaint voice of one who had always been kept on a leash. With her sweet old English, and that dainty silk ribbon of words, she might have been an elegant Victorian. David's feet kept pumping him along in time with the others, not wishing to get lost for not a single flat that they passed looked familiar. "Thou must try as much as thou might to avoid James." Her eyes searched him out and made it impossible for him to speak, to vocalize the feeling of soul connection that he felt with her. " Dost not allow thy to seduce you further, be safe. " And with those last words, she let leave of David and all the sounds drown back into the world.  The sound of some sort of drum was the most predominant. Then, in the distance, David caught sight of glowing neon lights mirrored with dark shadows. This was it, somehow David knew that this was the destination James had in mind.

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 Shining chrome of a Harley Davidson gleamed like a white cap squall- and the music was louder now, fuller. James stopped, just before the door, just as enough of a surprise for David, who was still lost in the white of the motorcycle fender, to fall full force into all of those before him. They were a trifle annoyed until James started speaking, and the mood changed to one as still as a northern lake on a winters night. 
 "Split up, no more than two together," his face was somber, but quickly turned back to that wicked glee when he caught a glimpse of that new face in the back. " David, you will come with me." David was given no choice, just expected to comply with James' decision-as if it were mutual. They split into these pairs. David following behind James like a faithful guard dog following his master, and hating every moment of it. 

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The man who sat behind the bar looked orange in the glow of the light behind him. The only bright light in the entire club. A few other dim ones were placed sparsely here and there, making it nearly impossible to see the faces of the other clubbers who jumped and danced to the deep Techno-Industrial that lathed the room. David’s mind bubbled with the carbonation of the night. The exaltation that soared through his veins tore him apart in the best way imaginable.
 James' dark figure led the way, expertly maneuvering through the crowd while David stumbled and fell on his and the feet that stood around him. James led him down into a lower section of the floor, nearer to the stage that stood empty except for where it was splotched and sponged with red and orange spots. In the back there was a corner that was curtained off from the rest of the place. James made no motion of caring about the curtain, simply pushed through it and into another, smaller room. In this room the music was louder than anywhere else. A large, broad shouldered man stood in the corner, where a single standing light made him look like a monster out of an old black and white film. In the center of the room stood an old pool table whose felt was in extremely good condition for its age, and the look of its wooden frame. A few other men stood around, burly, staring down David and James, full of wonder as to their purpose. James, though any of the men in the room were easily twice his size, played it cool and the tone of his voice was different in every way then it had just been a moment ago.
 "Can I join?" Suspicion coated the men’s faces. Why, they thought would this boy want to infiltrate their game? But, James' face was masked with a naive sort of innocence. David could not believe how much he had changed, his domineering ways had suddenly changed to those of a sweet three year old. The man in the corner removed himself from the shadows, and a somewhat devilish if not beautiful smile graced his face. His rough edged chin turned towards David and a minuscule, barely visible wink issued from his stormy green eyes. David sat in awe, what could that mean? But the question was soon answered as he walked over to James, patting him hard on the back.
 "Of course Jimmie" his robust voice seemed to calm everyone else in the room and they all regained there merriment, taking David and James into their precious pool game. 

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David woke up, abruptly and with a bit of fright. What had happened? The last thing he could recall was somewhat blurry. The man in the corner, his name had been something to the effect of Tom?, or, Tim? He couldn't remember, everything seemed hazy. James had taken him to another room after they had both miserably lost the pool game, that was set in his memory for sure, and that Tim had come with them, along with a few of the others. The rest was a blank. In his mouth was that sour taste left only by liquor so, he concluded that the gin must have been as free flowing as ever. And there was a place, in the center of his tongue that felt oddly numb. So that was why everything around him looked strange and alive. He was lying in what seemed to be a bathtub, he could feel the coldness of the porcelain digging into the back of his neck, painful, but still not motivating enough to push him to his feet. And the rim stood out in his line of vision. 
 Then he noticed it, the red that soaked the entire room. It was sticky, making a slurping noise as he pushed himself out of the tub it sucked him back down. His naked body being slicked and coated. David's thin white hands were now stained the color of the setting sun. Horrors arouse in him when he realized what this substance must've been. There were no bodies except for his own in the bathroom, but the blood was everywhere. He could feel it as it absorbed through every pore, could smell the copper undertone as he slurped in the air. A mirror hung precariously on the wall, and David could see his reflection. Or, it looked like his reflection. Under all of the crimson there was a faint form that seemed recognizable. His first reaction was to lean close to the toilet and let out all of that putrid alcohol, for some reason it boiled and curdled in his stomach this time, unlike any before. David ran to the shower, which was slippery, making his hands slide down as he turned on the water. It was like liquid ice but, he paid no attention as he checked and observed, making sure that none of this mess had come from him. 
 Through the slim door he could see a bed, also blanketed with the waste. In the center laid the man from the poolroom. He was smeared, saturated. But, not dead, for his bare chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. The nakedness of David's body seemed distant as he shook the man awake, flustered and violent.
 "Hey." he said casually, wiping his eyes with the back of one blood coated hand, causing a war paint effect. David could not believe this, could he not feel the stickiness? Didn't he see the scarlet light that fell upon the room? The man sat up and walked, capable and obviously at ease with his bare state. No words could escape his lips, the numbness of his tongue made it feel like a hard piece of coal that had been forcefully shoved into his mouth. 
 "I took care of everything. Jimmie said to meet Franci later at The Pub." The man's voice echoed through the bathroom door, where David could see him taking his turn at the mirror, glancing over his thick sideburns and the shadow that had spread across his face. David's mind was a whirring machine, his thoughts spinning faster and a few faint memories of last night coming back to him with the force of a hurricane. They had been listening to some type of hard core synthesized music, all laying around the big room drinking and watching the walls melt and bulge with every successive breath. The men were all laughing, joking and he joined in, saying things only a possessed man would say...nothing of single words reoccurred to him, but he knew that they would never have escaped his lips had his brain and tongue been alive and aware. 
 David looked at the window, long, silk curtains covered it and only let in a small stream of light which fell on David’s feet, played there amongst his toes. The carpet was shag, green, and the color of moldy bread. Though across it's lushness there was a deep scar, fresh red fingers jumped out amongst the emerald ones. And then the flood came back, washing away all of his doubts, telling him all of his fears. The man had been wearing a white T-shirt, and blue jeans, the old kind that they used to wear in the 50's. He had pulled David aside, whispered his cigarette encrusted voice into his ear...
 "Damn!, you tell that Jimmie," David shook back into reality, slightly listening to that man in the shower, but mainly searching for his clothes. He found them neatly folded on an easy chair in the corner. David couldn't remember ever folding his clothes, especially in the situation he had been in, so something really must have wasted him. Tim was shaving now, somewhat useless seeming since he was nude and immersed in what looked like garnet house paint. But he paid no attention to this fact, shaving very carefully and slowly. it seemed almost like the way serial killer can tear his victims to pieces, but is so meticulous in not leaving any clues to his identity. "You tell that Jimmie that if I ever catch him using my razor for this shit again, it's all over." The words entered David's head, but didn't register, nothing except for James' name anyway. He scrambled to put his clothes on, didn't want to be in this cold strange room anymore, he wanted to be somewhere familiar, somewhere warm and comfortable. Tim came out of the bathroom, wiping his face with a towel that so classfully matched the shag rug. David decided that it was time for him to make his exit out of Eden, and went for the door. But before he could Tim confronted him. 
 "Come back anytime Davy-boy," he gave him the same swift slap on the back that he had administered to James the night before. a giant grin spread across his face, David could see his perfectly white teeth shining in the morning sun. “Sorry about last night." were the last words that escaped his lips before he walked away from David to get dressed, and David got the hint. But something had known in those eyes, and that rhetoric apology. Turning the knob and getting the hell out of there was the best feeling he could imagine at the moment.

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 He found The Pub that night with no trouble at all, surprisingly, since he couldn't remember how to get there when he tried to think about it. It was more like his feet knew the way and just dragged the rest of his body along with them. The places' gigantic door stood open, letting the fresh, cool, autumn air in. Through the doorway David could see people lounging around, all looking as if they were mesmerized by those same swiveling lights. But, in the middle he caught sight of her. She was lying on the rough floor, staring at the ceiling. His heart jumped at her profile, her slightly sloped nose, and those eyes that were set just far enough back to make it seem as if her very soul looked at you instead of just her retinas. He took a step so that he was standing just inside. Just enough for each foot to be halfway over the threshold. Mounting the way into the swift, cold, wind tunnel.
 It was as if she could sense him staring at her. The hairs prickled along the incline of her neck, Frances turned around to see David there. Standing looking elegantly gothic framed in the doorway. The sleeves of his velvet throwback shirt dangling there. Sort of swaying in the breeze as a swing might rock gently, seconds after the child has abandoned it. She closed her eyes, feeling her lashes brush smoothly along her cheekbone and readied herself for what was coming. It took all of her meager strength to talk to David, to make herself seem competent and awake. To bring herself out from the murky reserves where James had pushed her away so long ago. Frances opened her cool dark eyes and waited, concentrated on David’s every movement and monitored his every breath as he came towards her.

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 David let his hand fall upon her shoulder. He watched as it's bony surface curled around her and the thin purplish unmarred veins popped out against flesh.  Frances' face was upturned to him and there it looked like the face of a radiant angel basking in the sunlight. His heart pounded within his chest as he realized how much he wanted this girl. How she seemed like the only one in the room that mattered and all of the others floated away. He knew that he must say something but he could feel the eyes on him of those he knew must be there in spite of his Coventry for Frances. Watching the new boy, he thought bitterly, and glared into Frances' big brown eyes. He implored her to go elsewhere, a place where they might talk not unto an audience. She must've understood, she took his hand in hers. Hers which seemed small and insignificant compared to the structure of his. She silently dragged him, but in his eyes it was more as if they were floating, dragged him to that pit that James had arisen from the afor night.
 At the end of the pit there was all lavender light. Lavender with a hint of Fuschia making everything look as if it were on fire. As if the bed burned with violent purple flames. Frances released him and sat upon the bed. It was oval and covered with a plushy material that matched the lighting. She looked so perfect there, he thought, there amongst those offsetting colors she sat, glaring up at him with those innocent-seeming eyes. Awaiting a command, someone to tell her what she was supposed to do. David's knees felt weak, every muscle nearly asleep with the relaxing tension that he felt in her presence.
 He released his knees and fell to the bed. his posture that one that so many use to pray to their separate deity's. And the one that sat before him was Frances. David looked down at her and waited, not wanting to remember what he had just returned from, not wanting to break the beautiful silence of the fiery room. Frances sat there frigid, afraid to move, afraid to breathe or talk. Every article in this room reminded her of James, maybe this place had been a bad choice after all. She was constantly under the thumb, waiting to be beaten with the oaken stick. She glared deep into David's eyes and saw a freedom, an escape. These memories and thoughts of James suddenly made her want to gag, and she pretended that none of them existed. 
 She rolled her neck to one side, and then to the other, in a motion that seemed far to relaxed for the Frances that had just been sitting next to David, as he glimpsed the changes that had, within a matter of minutes, occurred in her. She ran her index finger slowly down his arm, feeling the stitches as if they were Braille. Frances pulled him down to her level and stared into his eyes. In hers gleamed freshets, those tears that released with them the burden of voluntary condemnation and complacency.
 

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 David felt the warmth beneath his eyelids, the last blankets of dreaming being pulled away from them. His eyes fluttered, trying to stay open. There was no more fuschia light filling the room. Just blackness and dark, encasing him in a thick tar sightlessness. He could still feel the soft fur around him, brushing against his once more bare body. Though this time cold, hard porcelain was absent. David reached his arm out, everything that he did felt like such a chore, as if he were worn down to the point of weakness. This thought made a little smile grace his lips, thinking of being worn out. But he could not feel her next to him. He used all of his strength to drag his fingers back in forth on the bed, still nothing. 
 "I'm sorry." a raspy voice floated through the air to him as a whisper. The room's spherical form making it impossible to tell where it came from. It seemed to originate from nowhere and everywhere all at once. Bouncing repercussions throwing it back at him a million times over. David tried to sit up, he made it about halfway, and then fell back again, tired and strained. His words even seemed hard to call upon. His lips dry and barely pliable.
 "Frances?" He managed, in a wasted old man's intonation. He could hear rustling, like a small frightened animal shivering in it's hole, just waiting for the snake to burrow through and do it in. He sucked in a deep breath, it seemed to get caught somewhere in his chest, it felt like it was ripping his lungs into little bloody strips. Immediately he coughed that breath out again. Grasping his chest, he noticed that the cold burning hadn't been born there at all.
 "tis thou neck," Came the echo of David's thoughts, but from the walls of the room. As quickly as it was possible for him, he threw his hands to the right side of his neck. There was that sticky mucus-like substance coating his fingers, this time it oozed from his flesh. It seeped there, vermilion he knew, though the darkness prevented him from actually seeing it. "I am truly sorry." Frances repeated from the corner of the room, where she sat, hugging her knees close to her in a fetal position. Frantically rubbing the backs of her hands across her mouth, trying in vain to rub away the blood that coated her face, slicked her mouth in a pseudo-lipstick that was of deeper red then she had ever seen before. 
 David stared into the blackness, his eyes wide to the point of bursting with horror and wonder. One part of him wanted to ask why she had done this, why was he drained of his blood to the point that he could barely move. And the other part of him wanted to shake her, shake her hard until she told him what was the matter with her. He could barely move, scarcely speak, all by the hands of the one he thought he could trust. But, he could do neither. HE just gasped out her name again, blood choked and near tears.
 "No!' she screamed, thinking that he was about to move. "thou mustn’t see me the way that I am!" Her voice was frantically hoarse now, not simply raspy. She sounded hysterical. David could hear her running around the room. Bouncing off the walls, tripping and falling down in the darkness. And then a beam of light flooded the room, growing brighter and brighter until he was drowning in brilliant whiteness...

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 That old nurse came in, the one that sort of reminded David of the old Pro he used to know. She must've been at least fifty, but she still smoked like a chimney and pranced back and forth on the street in front of the Cafe wearing a short red skirt. A skirt just short enough so you could see the belts that held up her stockings. But this nurse never addressed him as 'sweetie' with a puff of smoke between her jersey accent. None the less, she made him feel better, sort of more at home. Her cold hands touched his forehead, and proceeded to peel the bandage off of his neck.
 "All better," she smiled a sugar coated grin, showing her yellow teeth with pink lipstick smudged tips. "The Doctor wants to talk to you David. He'll be in a minute." she patted David's chest and gathered up the old bandage. Her end wiggling sort of like that Pro again as she walked out the door. In the hall he could see people being wheeled past, making him thank that this was the last day of his stay more and more each time a food tray or diseased person went through his line of sight. The doctor was coming down the hall, you could always hear his loud voice saying 'Hey, hi There, Nice Day isn't it' to the patients, all the while forcing a smile, making them think their getting better.
 "David!" He sounded so happy, as if David weren't lying there with scars all over his neck, Feeling as if his insides were just about to fall out. "The rabies tests came back negative, and the scars will fade with time...." He flipped through his little packet of paper, the age spots on the back of his large hands drawing David's attention away from his boring dribble of nothing. He had told the doctors that a stray dog had attacked him in a back alley, which was why his skin was so torn and ripped that they had to do a graft. HE thought about Frances, her face coming back to him like that of an old photograph, like the ones he had seen of his mother when he was little., Faded and ripped, Frances. Her name ran swiftly through his head. Her face in that innocent pose, looking up at him as a cherub. How many weeks had he been in this pathetic institution now, he could not even remember, everything seemed hazy, except that event filled his thoughts and was all he envisioned that lay before him now. That simple scene had become his undoing, and his fate. She was all he could see, all he could think would be a salvaging hold onto this world now.
 "David, are you still listening?" The doctor shook him awake from his lovely daydream. "Now, I want you to come in at least once every week from now on, for that experimental treatment you agreed to do for me,' He grabbed up David's chart from the end of the bed and took his hand. Holding it in a skin-crushing grip for a few seconds, then left David there, alone in the white Room. The smile had finally left his face. That eternally cheerful face. How many times he had wanted to smash it in. Watch as his nose caved in through the rest of it, puncturing his brain and all that blood and gray useless matter would come out. That had seemed so great, but now all he wanted was to leave, to find his Frances.
 

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And he had found her, the trusting in him had come back, had flooded in on him when he saw her face, the way she shied into an unlit corner to hide from him but yet still let her purged eyes become radiantly full with his sight. He wrapped his arms around her welcoming her back to him, the unsurity of all his thoughts being swept away through her scent and her feel. Her smooth hair brushing softly against his face. He wanted to stand there forever, stand in a position that was fit for the most artful sculpture, but David knew that couldn't be. He had to tell her, there was only two things left unsaid between them. Their mutual vows need never be spoken. But their reasoning, Frances's reasoning, must be explained. He had to ask and was forced to tell. So much burned inside him at once, on fire and trying to get out of him. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing would come out, not a single word could escape his lips. Frances looked up at him, there was so much she wanted to say. But, truthfully, how many times would she plead with him her apology, and then try to convince herself that he seriously believed what she was saying. 
 There was something in him that told Frances she need not apologize, but that she must let him understand. She took his hand, so much like that first night, tears welled in David's eyes remembering his unsurity at the acceptance and wanting to run with all of his might away from the security. But, instead he had accepted what was given him, at the repentance or uncuriousity must be this damnation. David looked into Frances, where her eyes let you get, not just a glimpse of her, but, let you see the entirety of her in a flash, in a single burning instant. 
 The sight blazoned with an electric glory. Broadcasting to him, on her own private channel, what she was feeling, sending out singular signals in a white noise that flooded throughout David's body. Jarring his limbs and shocking him throughout. He needed no words, but, could understand her now. No apology was necessary, for what he saw before him. This person to whom he pledged his sanctity, was enough. He could see the small, dainty tears spilling over, sliding down until it crested and dropped onto his jacket, and wished all the more that his confession would be so easy. Wished he could find a way to explain to her, while making it easy and painless. Though just thinking, made his heart ache. 
 The tiny teardrop rushed against the leather, slipping onto his hand. And there it singed. Burned with a warm salty Remembrance...
 

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 The dull throbbing at his temples and the back of his neck told James that something was happening. Somewhere. This was his premonitory function that he had come to know. Had come to know at a time that seemed so long ago. Had come to expect and anticipate. He pushed his hands beneath his head and stared up at the ceiling. Hands painted pictures were all across its concaveness. Giant scrolls of the H.P. Lovecraft era illuminated his face, set his mind wandering. Thoughts of the nights journey flooded in, washing away the throbbing, rinsing it of silly premonitious waste...

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 James awoke, suddenly. His heart was pounding, matching the rhythm that still echoed out from his head. Sweat drizzled down his forehead, and slicked his entire body. His silky shirt pulled away from his back, as charred skin may peel away from a broiled pig dinner, hard and stiff. The darkness closed in on him, panic making James' eyes bulge, his veins throb. His breath quickened to a running pace ripping in and out of his throat. Everything seemed to twirl around him, James felt as if he were on a ride at Coney Island. The people's voices seemed to laugh at him as he spun. The remembered scent of Cotton Candy and carmeled apples wafted towards him, making the spinning even more stomach shattering. His tongue pressed hard against the back of his throat, trying desperatly to be swallowed. He could taste the taste that had for so long enraptured him, kept him prisoner of his own desire James squinted, trying to see what he could now only feel the presence of. He reached out, grabbing the light switch, flipping on that lavender light. The light that reminded David all to well of that fateful night, fittingly enough. 
 "Now you know." David stood, angled against the wall, looking at James with full contempt and revengeful happiness. His eyes glared out of his pale face, shooting out a message of hate, a message that sailed directly to James, who was still bent over clutching at his stomach; trying to ease it's pain.  James tried to speak, pushing with all his might to vocalize the question. But from his throat only escaped a gurgle. James' heart was beating so fast now, throughout his body as a whole.  And now he did know. He looked in the corner to see Frances, a smile spread deeply across her face, scratched there intensely. Wicked and wide, she looked hungry, he thought, but he knew that she wasn't hungry for what he had been feeding her. She was feasting on the pain that she saw within him. In the realization that spread across his face when he saw where her wrist had been pierced, scratched by the digging of her nails against her own flesh. And that familiar taste in his mouth. The horror in his heart was unmeasurably intense. James pushed his tongue hard against his throat, ultimately pushed down the blood that he couldn't bring up. Pushing so hard that the sides of his throat felt as though they were about to burst, fly apart and let all the infected scarlet life escape him. He stood up then, having to put on an act of stability. James couldn't let them know that the best had been gotten of him. 
 "I know, then again, so do you." He lifted his hand to his face and casually wiped away the blood that was smeared there. He watched with fearful anger as Frances sidled up to David, slid her thin arm around his. She licked her lips with that dainty tongue that had always made James smile; in the inside. James let his defenses down, offering his arm to Frances, his heart burning in the hopes that she would come back. Frances looked at him, her eyes with small tears in them, her teeth grabbed hold of her bottom lip. Contemplating, reminiscing about the time with James. Timidly she shook her head, ducked under David and out the door before James would see her let the tears go. If so, it would have been as though he had won. But she silently felt sorry for what had become of him, what had inevitably destroyed her James. 
 David stood with the light shining on him, as center stage of silent tragedy. He smirked, the bully had been beat. James sat in front of him, trying to pretend, but his voice cracked on the high notes, he shook, and constantly sucked down giant sighs. All trying to cover up for the hurt that he felt, that he could never show anyone. David gave one last long, disappointed look to James. Looking for that small sign of regret, but none came to him. The only thing that he portrayed was regret in redemption. He took in a deep breath, shook his head at that bully whom had never grown up, turned on his thick heels, and exited stage right...

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 James stared, stunned as first all that he had ever loved left, and then the personification of all that he hated.  He thought about the loneliness that surrounded him, and let all of his strength crumble into a pile on the floor. His head bowed in a look of shame. James lay there crying. Crying for what he had put Frances through, for what unjust wrong he had done to David, for what he had allowed himself to become. And lastly he cried because this was the end. The end of all that he had been taking advantage of, and he had lost everything, to some selfish sense of greedy pride, something that he couldn't even remember anymore, that didn't matter any longer. He put his hands to his face, blocking out the light, catching the tears, trapping them close to his face so he could feel every last acidic drop of it as it burned all that he was away...

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Epilogue

-The Underground-
By Staff Journalist: Rebecca Montreal

 If you haven't been in the lower district of the city lately, I suggest that you use caution while clubbing there. It was brought to my attention that there was a gang reeking havoc among the downtown nightclubs near the river. I decided that, in order to get a good angle on this gang I would have to infiltrate their circle. I spent several nights visiting various 'hot spots' among the twenty-something set, though nothing happened for sometime I didn't give up. Finally I met with this man, whom for privacy reasons I won't mention his name, or at least the name he gave me. He knew previously that I was a reporter, and for a decent amount I persuaded him to give me information. He confided to me that there was a large amount of people doing what the police expected, and he would take me to meet the leader. Because I'm sort of into this job and I don't want to lose it, all I can divulge right now is a word of advice for those of you who aren't scared of walking down there in daylight already is this. There are those of the 'gang' that have contracted the AIDS/HIV virus, so if you meet someone at these somewhat promiscuous clubs, keep this in mind before engaging in any risky activity. I cannot print anything else concerning the official 'business' of the 'gang', but I will assure you that there are several ongoing investigations at this point. 

Obituaries-Saturday March 3,1997

 The funeral for David Andrew
and Frances Ingrid Genette will be held
on the fifth. The two were found in 
connection with the downtown gang
that committed mass suicide last month
on the west side. It seems that while 
still associated with the gang the two 
had also been infected with the AIDS/HIV
virus. According to police and the 
coroner's records Frances died on the
22nd of February from complications
of the virus. And on the 25th David
followed, from an overdose. Investigators
link this to the death of his wife. 
 
 

Police Compufile
A Warrant for arrest
As of 11/19/99
James Michael Provel
In connection with the Mass Suicide of 
Nearly fifty of his followers in February of 
1997. He is believed to 
be dangerous and severely volatile.
Use extreme caution when apprehending.
Last seen on 2/12/97