I'm sorry that it took so long for me to finish this part. I want to say thanks to the few of you who have actually taken the time to read; I really appreciate it. I don't like this part as much because the writing does not flow as well. Also, my beginning analogy here won't be wrapped up until Part IV, unlike the previous two parts where it was referenced in the end. All suggestions, comments, and critiques are welcome; that's why I post. I hope you enjoy.
Tomorrow Does Not Exist – Part III ((EDITED))
By: Joseph Dean
©2008.12.19
If I could choose one of my senses to lose, it would be, without a second thought, gestation – and not just for that foul taste one receives with waking up in the mornings although avoiding that as well would be a bonus. Being able to rid myself of having to experience all of the sordid flavours of food would have been wonderful. I was not a picky eater; I did not want to eat at all. The spoiled hamburger meat, putrefied cheese, moldy bread… Jacob would eat without care, but I always shoved it away, only eating as much as I needed as rare as my stomach craved it.
I was never one to devour meat anyway. What small amounts the kitchen was stored with were too undesirable to consider. Growing up without it, I never had to worry about yearning for animal flesh, or any other parts of it for that matter. I was never into labels, but I guess I could have been classified as a vegetarian. Anorexic, I had once thought, might have been a more valid term.
Jacob had woken up before me. It was presumably nine o’clock or so when my eyes opened. The sun shone through the uncovered windows, and — Uncovered windows.
“Jacob,” I whispered, the name coming out more sharply than it should have. “Close the blinds. Pull the curtains.”
“Is the sun bothering you?” he inquired as the brightness of the outside world promptly vanished from the room. It was not dark again; enough light was present to get around.
“No. I don’t want it possible for people to see us in here,” I answered.
I slowly rose and sat in the center of the couch. I reached my arms back and heard the joints along my shoulder blades and spine crack. A yawn escaped my mouth and brought with it an odd sensation. I believe it was energy. Satisfied with the amount of rest it received, my body was ready to carry me throughout the day, as long as I allowed it to relax again that night.
My eyes wandered about the luxurious living room. It looked different in the morning, strangely appealing. It did not matter to me how welcoming it appeared; I instantly despised it and those who owned it, whoever they were. The entire house was too blissful. The comfortable furniture, the marble countertops, and even the hundreds of family pictures hanging on every wall and sitting on anything with a flat surface irked me. They obviously had money, enough to go around the world for a week.
Yes, I envied them. I wanted a large house, wonderful possessions, a loving family, and a fair amount of disposable income. I sighed. Jacob suggested that we leave the house as quickly as possible; I objected. I wanted to leave badly, too, but I was positive that Connell had notified the police by then. Traveling in the dark would be safer.
I was glad that the peroxide bottle had a securely fastened lid. I bent down to recover the bottle, along with the box of dye, both of which I had knocked over while standing. I looked at both items and scanned the room once more. I thought I saw a bathroom near the staircase when we sneaked in the previous night.
My head turned to Jacob, who was standing by the chimney staring at one of the pictures on the mantle. I guess he noticed I was not moving and turned.
“What?” he plainly asked.
We both had average skin complexions. Being trapped in our house all of the time, we were not tanned, but through the fortune of genetics, we were not pale either. I smiled as Jacob followed me through the house. We were just perfect. Luck was a cruel game. It causes situations to go horribly wrong, but they always turn around at some point.
At first Jacob objected when I told him to lean his head over the bathtub. He saw the peroxide and tried to fight it off, not wanting to lose his dark hair colour.
“Jacob,” I addressed sharply. “The police know what we look like. Changing our hair colour is a great disguise; don’t you think?”
“No!” he immediately responded. “I don’t! Blonde hair and brown eyes? Yeah, that’ll be easy to miss.” Sarcasm did not seem right coming from Jacob. He lacked the attitude for it.
“We can change our eye colour as well,” I said annoyed. Jacob opened his mouth, but I added, “We’ll steal if necessary.” Jacob’s mouth closed and turned to a disappointed frown. I did not care if he approved or not; he knew it was the only option for us.
Jacob rolled his eyes and held his head over the drain. He mumbled, “Hurry.”
We sat perfectly still for at least a half hour on the bathroom floor. Towels were covering our hair; we were too afraid to see the damage that had been done. I followed the instructions carefully and hoped that it would come out right.
As long as it’s different, I remember telling myself. Jacob sat with his arms rested atop his knees. As he laid his chin to rest on his forearms, I noticed his eyebrows – as dark as his original hair. I sighed – another thing we would have to fix. I ran my index and middle fingers across my right brow. Mine would be the same.
I was glad that there was Vaseline in the bathroom cabinet; our foreheads would have been dyed yellow otherwise. Difficulty arose when Jacob asked how we would dispose of the towels. Neither of us knew how to work a washing machine, nor did we want to experiment with a complete stranger’s.
As we stood by the draining bathtub, I heard the entrance lock start to tumble. No, I thought. No, no, no! Jacob heard it as well. He tugged on my shirt sleeve. I had seen the look on his face so many times, the look of horror, uncertainty. I hated seeing that look; Jacob was just waiting for Connell to storm into the house and kill us both. I was positive of it.
I reached over to the light switch and let the lights go out. I tried to shut the door quietly, but my luck never failed to decline when I needed it most. My foot slid across the water on the floor, and I plummeted into the door. It shut, yes, but by producing a large slamming noise. Both Jacob and my eyes widened immensely. Jacob was muttering so many swear words under his breath at that moment. My eyes turned to him, shocked at the words my ears were registering. He was scared out of his mind, personality traits completely abandoned.
Footsteps approached the bathroom, not far from the main entrance anyway. The knob turned, and the door attempted to open. It slammed against us. We braced ourselves against the wood, pushing back to be sure that it remained closed. I do not even know what we were trying to accomplish. It was not like whoever was trying to get in would give up and leave after so many unsuccessful endeavors. We could not escape from the bathroom; there was not a window or air vent anywhere apparent. It was either allowing this person to find us or letting the cops be notified.
I took Jacob by his elbow and motioned for him to move. His expression turned inquisitive, and I nodded to assure him. We quickly rose, and the door swung open behind us. Jacob and I fell to the floor and turned to see the brunette woman with the mixed expression of terror and confusion.
“Tara,” Jacob absentmindedly addressed. I jabbed his side with my elbow, and his hand flew to cover his mouth.
“Jacob?” she returned. “Grayson? What are you two doing here?”
“What are you doing here?” I tried to turn the question around. I failed.
“What happened to your hair? How did you get in? Does Connell know where you are?” she rambled off her questions. I don’t know exactly what kind of mood I was displaying at the time, but it answered all of her questions simultaneously. “I’m calling Connell,” she said and turned to walk out of the bathroom.
“No!” I screamed, running after her. “You can’t!”
Tara shrugged my advances off and picked up the cordless phone off of the marble kitchen counter. I kept yelling for her to quit. I grabbed the back of her shirt and tried to divert her attention. Nothing was working. I attempted to steal the phone from her hands. She pressed the Send button, and I heard the phone ring once. Twice. Th– I unplugged the base before it could successfully make the third ring.
“Fine,” Tara growled. “I’ll take you to him myself then.” She reached for my collar.
I’m unsure exactly what forced me to do my subsequent actions. It might have been the anger… or the fear. Either way, I regret it now.
I shoved Tara against the counter. Her breath quickened, and her cell phone fell from her loose pocket. Why she did not just use that to call in the first place, I still do not know. Her eyes followed it, and her hand ineffectively tried to catch it.
“Forgive me,” I whispered in her ear. The handle fit so perfectly in my palm. I gripped it tightly, liking the feel of superiority that it gave.
The sharpened edge kissed her skin so innocently, so sweetly. Her mouth fell open, and a single breath was released. Her head impulsively rose as the kiss expanded, covering more of her neck. The heat rose as her fingers lengthened and contracted, making solid fists. The air she had exhaled was quickly replaced, entering her mouth through her teeth. Her eyes closed, lips pursed. The kiss concluded as hastily as it had begun. Tara’s legs gave out, allowing her body to slide toward the floor. I held onto her shirt collar. It proved her diminutive affair had existed, evidence staining the white fabric so evidently.
My eyes turned to the clock. Only a minute had passed. I eyed the lifeless body before me. I had done this. Because of me, this woman would no longer breathe. Speak. Live. Those last few seconds kept replaying themselves in my eyes. It was one brisk movement. My hand flew out to the counter, and I grasped the handle of the knife and continued in that motion until it tore apart Tara’s flesh. The knife fell to the floor, the clinking noise enough to alert Jacob to start moving towards the kitchen.
I wanted to tell myself right then that it was an irrational action; I was unable to control myself. I looked at the blood on my own hands. I should have been feeling horror, disbelief, or shock. But I failed to feel any of those things. I felt a surge of energy, adrenaline. It was an uncommon rush that I did not want to lose.
I looked at the blood on my own hands. I should have been feeling horror, disbelief, or shock. But I failed to feel any of those things. I felt a surge of energy, adrenaline. It was an uncommon rush that I did not want to lose.
Jacob slowly turned the corner, seeing my accomplished form kneeling over the doll-like figure. He stepped back, his face showing each of the emotions I lacked at the moment.
“Jacob,” I said, the feeling of triumph entirely gone from my face. I could not believe that I had just murdered an innocent woman and that my own brother had to see the evidence. But she wasn’t innocent. She was going to turn us both back over to Connell, who would proceed to be sure that neither of us breathed anymore as well. It was justified, wasn’t it? I had to do what it took to protect my life and, most importantly, my brother’s.
I wish that it would have been that simple to explain to Jacob.
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I apologise if the ending annoys anyone. It had to be done for future plotline's sake.
