Fell of Dark (17 page)

THORN

WHEN I WAS TEN,
Kulthat and Tillion drove me to the hospital. They told me if I didn't calm down, they'd leave me there forever. I had my knapsack. I was screaming. Screaming and screaming. I wouldn't stop. My father had put out ten cigarettes in my legs, and they were sticking up like little smokestacks. Why did he do that? He denied it of course. He said, I did no such thing. Never, never. The liar. Liar. Like I'd make that up. People are always making things up, but not me, not me. I tell the truth always.

You'll stay here, my demon parents told me. You'll stay here if you don't calm down. This place is meant for you. Hell. Gehenna.

I stopped my screaming, and they took me home.

But what if I had kept on screaming? What if I'd been left at the hospital? How much worse could it have been?

Hirsute, that's the word. I'm hirsute. Which, according to the dictionary, makes me horrid. One archaic use of horrid means shaggy, bristling, rough. Horrid also means shockingly dreadful. Abominable. Hateful.

My hairline starts right above my eyebrows. My beard starts right below my eyes and grows south all the way to the bottom of my throat. I look like a monkey, though no tail, which makes me more ape. A skinny ape, runt ape, a laughingstock in a troop.

My girlfriend likes me, though. Candace. How I ended up with a girl named Candace I don't know. The name suits a girl or woman of a particular type. Classy, elegant. I'm not saying my Candace isn't classy and elegant. She is in her own way, boots and all, but she's no princess.

“I don't want to be a princess,” she'd say.

“You don't have to be.”

“Good, because I don't want to be. I'd rather be an expert in apes, live with apes my whole life. I'm practicing with you.”

I let her shave my face now and then. At her house, in her family's bathroom.

“I always have to clean up super well. If my parents see little hairs all over the counter, they'll wonder where the hell they came from.”

“Tell them they're mine. I had to shave for the tenth time in one day. They'd believe that.”

“They would, but why here? They still don't think we're together.”

“They never will. To them I'm nice enough but crazy.”

“I'd say that's just about what everyone thinks, sweetie.”

In the Bible, Esau is born red and hairy and loses his birthright as firstborn to his twin, Jacob. And Jacob says, My brother is a hairy man, and I am a smooth man. They weren't identical twins. Fraternal.

I have no twin, fraternal or otherwise. I am a son, but no birthright will come to me. My father has finally left me alone. My mother, too. She committed suicide seven months ago.

I found her. Hanging. She strangled herself with a brown six-foot extension cord. The one she'd connected to her iron.

Everyone asks: Was there a note? We always want explanations for the terrible things. Yes, a note. Three sentences. Very short sentences.

Good-bye, Kermit.

Good-bye, Hawthorn.

Good-bye, Salome.

No explanation. No confession. No peace. Simply done.

This left my father weak and distant. He had no strength to beat me, no energy for torture.

Once, a few weeks after my mother's death, Kulthat came out of his hell and slipped while running after me. He fell like he was hit by a hammer. There he lay, on the floor. The sole of his foot facing the ceiling.

“Hawthorn, help me.” My father's voice. In pain. No more Kulthat.

For the first time, I shuddered. A spasm like I'd been struck by a splinter of lightning. Not a full bolt. My head spun, every muscle clenched tight. My tongue between my teeth. No sound but a growl like thunder coming from somewhere inside of me. The Guardians.

My father held his shin and blubbered, so I kicked his foot. Not hard. A little tap, but he screamed. I kicked him harder, and his foot tipped toward the floor. He screamed.

“All the years,” I said. “Eleven years.”

I tugged his foot around so that at least it pointed in the right direction. My father stopped screaming and passed out.

A month after my tiny revenge, my father limped away. I haven't seen him since. When have I been better off than now?

Did he suffer enough? His first child drowned. His wife committed suicide. His son hated him. That's a lot of pain. But I don't think he suffered enough for what he did to me.

Sometimes having a girlfriend means wondering how long you'll have a girlfriend. I'm ugly. I know I am. Ugly outside, ugly inside. Girls don't dream of boys like me. Covered in hair, angry, easily upset. Why would a girl want this? Every night, just as I fall asleep, I wonder if I'll have a girlfriend when I wake up. Everything can change that fast, overnight. I could be left with less than nothing. Everything burned.

So I ask Candace occasionally, “How long will we have?”

“It's never good when you ask this. It means you're worried.”

“Just answer. How long will we have together?”

“Until the very last moment.”

“What does that mean? It could end right now.” The Guardians, already angry, always angry I've let Candace so close for so long, wake up a little. I hear them in my voice. “You could snap your fingers this second. Is that what you mean?”

“You sound rough, Thorn. You have your demon voice.”

“You said, ‘Until the very last moment.'”

Candace puts her hand on my face, or on my shoulder. She might even kiss my cheek. She's nothing if not fearless. “I mean the very last moment we have on this planet. Together.”

“How can you know that?” I'm angrier and angrier. My Guardians mobilize the Sawmen. Pain gets closer. “You don't love me. Who could love this?”

“I could,” Candace says. “I do. Please calm down. We were having a good time.”

The saws bite, and I'm done. Doubled over. Crying. Harmless.

When I kicked my father's foot, I tortured him.

There are entire museums dedicated to the history of torture. There are men and women tortured today, right now, this second. The methods would give anyone nightmares. Anyone. Death would be a relief. Like aspirin or sleep.

I can hear my own bones breaking, my own muscles pulled out of my body, and I scream, “Kill me, kill me, kill me.”