ANGELS AND GHOSTS

The Final Kill

September the sixteenth started okay for Rachael, dinner with Marco, then four cans of bourbon, two joints and a snort, and she felt capable of sleeping in her own bed. Alcohol and illegal substances were the barriers she had erected to keep the nightmares at bay; wipe yourself out, disengage your brain and you might find sleep.

She kissed Marco good night, then stumbled up to her apartment and prepared for bed. She was tired, then again, she was always tired these days; if they took sleep away from you, the result was that you were always tired, lethargic and edgy.

Sleep came, and two hours of the sleep were untouched, then they came, seeping through the barriers, crawling under the barriers, disregarding the barriers, and she snapped awake, terrified, lost, helpless … and damaged, so badly damaged.

She pulled her knees up, rested her face on the knees and sobbed, just simply too tired to cry properly.

Rachael looked at the digital clock, 1.53am, then she snarled, “Fuck you!”

She strode into the kitchen and pulled a can of Beam out of the fridge; more barriers required.

Twenty minutes later, Beam number two, or counting the ones at Marco’s, Beam number six, and a joint.

So tired, but Beam number three, or seven; and another joint, and she put a Melanie CD on, because she wanted company, and she rolled another joint, because she wanted some fucking sleep, and she drew back and blew out, then she noticed a half-smoked joint in the ashtray, but no matter, both joints would be smoked, and she got another Beam, and Holy Cluster-Fuck, only two Beams left; Like who the fuck is drinking my Jimmy’s?

Rachael rocked back and forward, sobbing, because only two Beams left was scary, and Rocello is smirking at her as he ground cigarette butts into her buttocks and thighs … and then brains and blood everywhere as the gun went Boom!

“Nahh, not fair.” she sobbed, “I’m awake, so fuck off!”

Shakily she drew back, then spluttered out, and she had a joint in both hands, and that was fuck-me-upside-down-bullshit, because she needed another hand to engage with Jimmy, and another song came on, not one of the boppy ones, it was one of the ones she didn’t want to hear, not right now.

Lay down, lay down, lay it all down

Let the white birds smile,

At the ones who stand and frown …

The melody pushed forward, a gentle lilting melody, although darkness hung threateningly in the background, the tune bubbling with ominous elements, until Melanie broke back into the song with a hushed tone, her voice seemingly weighed down by the impending darkness.

We were so close, there was no room

We bled inside each others wounds …

No White Birds smiling for Rachael, the birds crashing down next to her, the little fuckers bleeding all over her.

The nightmares were snapping her awake whenever she began dozing, but now the nightmares wanted to invade her waking hours. Real nightmares, terrifying nightmares, all the worst moments of her life crowding into her mind and jostling for position; the trembling hand, the shiny gun pointed at her, the shattering Boom … Rocello yanking her head back, clumps of hair being ripped out as he pounded into her violently … then journeying back, stunned and terrified, as she tried to flick hair and teeth off her dripping t-shirt … then hurtling forward as Cummings thrusted four fingers up her, his eyes lit up in an evil glimmer … and She was there as well, all the worst moments of her relationship with Mia flashed through her mind to further torment her; her helpless friend quivering, trembling, broken …

Quite possibly, she had saved Mia’s life. She had come across her when she wasn’t breathing, and then she made her breathe. And then she spent time with her, and they became close, too close … We were so close … so Rachael had backed away, knowing that pushing her away would devastate Mia, but Rachael had only been concerned for own feelings. Right at that moment she wanted to kill somebody, anybody, because Mia was such a gentle and fragile creature; and her, Rachael, or the Avenging Angel, or whoever the fuck she was, didn’t mean to hurt Mia. She tried to call up the vast array of happy or decadent moments that they had shared together, yet whenever she thought about Mia, the only image that presented itself was the one she didn’t want to see; helpless, quivering, trembling, broken …

Rachael guzzled the can down, streams of liquid spilling from the corners of her mouth and dribbling down her chin then onto her bare chest, and she butted the joints, dazed and stupefied, yet as Cluster-Fucked as she’d ever been in her entire life, she was suddenly decisive. Yeah, okay … somebody needs to pay, somebody needs to die on this night.

Rachael pushed out of the chair, muttering, “Too hard, too fucking hard.”

Too hard, too much pain, too tough to try and battle through, too much mental anguish and torment constantly attacking her, and quite simply, it had become too difficult to continue. The Silver Linings on her clouds had evaporated, and the Light at the end of her Tunnel had been blackened out, and the Pot of Gold at the end of her rainbow had been blown to pieces, and the life she was left with was one she couldn’t deal with anymore. Life had been an interesting journey, sure, but it now was the Giant Cluster-Fuck From Hell. Maybe she would go there, maybe she would get sent to Hell, and she could front Satan and ask, Hey, how ya doing; want me to kill somebody, because my White Birds ain’t flying no more and I’m in a really bad mood!

She sprinkled a line, then shakily chopped and separated, a concerned part of her conscience chiming in timidly; I don’t want to butt in, but didn’t you say that cocaine was only to be consumed in the good times?

“Fuck off.” she mumbled aggressively.

No more good times were apparent in her immediate future, too many nightmares, too many painful memories, too much psychological carnage, too much emotional obliteration; this night had shown her the future; the nightmares coming for her while she slept, and now the nightmares coming at her when she was awake, and the message of the nightmares was crystal clear. We … will … destroy … you … “Yeah,” Rachael snarled, “Not if I get there first!”

Rachael snorted the line up hungrily, wanting it to swell and expand her senses, because she wanted to feel like a God, or a Giant, for this … her final kill.

She grabbed a knife, daring a sneeze to come, for she would cut her bowel out if it happened; and then, if she was able, she would cut her fucking nose off as well. She tossed her head back snarling, becoming not a God, nor a Giant, becoming an ogre, The Ogre Of Death … And yeah fuckers, you can’t destroy me if I’m dead!

The Avenging Angel circled in her mind, the Angel seemingly in limbo as it inquired quietly, I realise that you are pretty fucked up, but what, you’re just going to give up?

Rachael grimaced, then growled as she tossed her head back, the veins in her neck standing out, her left fist clenched, her right hand gripping the knife tightly, and the Avenging Angel scampered for dear life, and White Birds took flight in a frenzy of activity, and Melanie was upset, seemingly not wanting to sing the next words to The Ogre Of Death, although the CD was helpless to delay them …

We bled inside each others wounds …

Shaking, shaking with rage, because they all came at her; Rocello, the hostility and the violence … and Cummings, degrading her, dehumanising her, choking her as he rammed into her … then him, him with the gun, HE of the darkness; I love you, I love you so much … and her, SHE of the sweetness and light; I love you, I love you so much … she raised the knife to her throat, but the CD stuck now, the disc jumping, catching, then repeating the two lines …

We bled inside …

We bled inside each others …

Words now stuck and repeating in Rachael’s mind, We bled… Can you hear me? Can you understand what I’m suggesting here? … I said we bled, we BLED inside each others wounds …

Death is finality, yet for her, for Rachael Terina, She who didn’t want to live anymore, death meant freedom.

Rachael pressed the knife against her throat, fully aware of her pounding brow, and she closed her eyes, about to take a journey she had never been on, about to taste the sweet elixir of freedom … and a voice of no volume whispered, Rach …

Agitated, furious, she tried to expel the voice from her mind.

Rach, Baby …

“Not listening; no, no, fucking no!” she screamed.

The voice refusing to be ignored, Rach, Baby, I love you …

Rachael tossed her head back in frustration, freedom tiptoeing away from her as the image formed; a woman … the woman sighing, and though the woman’s eyes told of the pain she was in, for a moment, a fleeting moment, the eyes shone, as Jenna Cameron, in her death throes wheezed, ‘Rach, Baby, I love you … so much.’

Blubbering, Rachael fell to her knees and dropped the knife, and as she felt the tears streaming down her cheeks, she fell on to the floor and bawled her eyes out.

*

Sleep never came, and she saw the sun come up, and hours trickled by, hours that had no meaning to them, or no meaning in them.

So tiny, so fragile, she needed her Aunty, she needed Jenna Cameron to assure her that everything was going to be alright, but Aunty was no longer here. Aunty had loved her so much, that Rachael’s love had spread its wings and flown to Aunty, and just when Rachael’s White Birds had smiled, Jenna Cameron had to go and die on her.

Leaving her so much in love.

And so damaged.

Rachael opened the fridge and cursed; the fridge almost empty, and distressingly, there were no white cans that said Bourbon & Cola.

She sat at the bench and rolled a joint, snippets of her last twelve hours clanging around in her mind. It had almost happened last night, she almost did it, she almost freed herself of the nightmare her life had become, but, but …

Aunty had said no.

Sobbing, Rachael bowed her face and raked a hand through her hair as she drew back then puffed out, whispering meekly, “Jen, I can’t do this anymore; I wanta be with you.”

Maybe she was expecting an answer from the Heavens, maybe she wasn’t, she just didn’t know, because it looked like they had fought the second Gulf War in her loungeroom … but, but Mia’s unit was always really tidy.

So dazed, so tortured, Rachael butted the joint, opened the door, then stumbled down the stairs. She appreciated the fact that Marco left the door open these days, and she slouched in and went to the study.

“Ohhh hey, Teriny, how are … ohhh Jesus!”

“What?” she asked quietly.

“You’re naked!”

“So what?”

“Yeah what, you just come bounding down the stairs naked these days?”

Rachael thought about her response, then she bowed her head. No Jimmy’s in her fridge, Jenna in Heaven, and the Giant Cluster-Fuck From Hell coming at her relentlessly. She went to the toilet.

Five minutes later, she called out hesitantly, “Hey Marco …”

“What?”

“Come in.”

“Where?”

“Bedroom.”

Marco wheeled in, then sighed.

Naked on his bed, in a seductive pose, lay the girl of his dreams, or the former girl of his dreams. As he wheeled closer, the smell of bourbon jumped out at him. Not even lunchtime, and she was already fucked up.

“What are you doing Rachael?”

She couldn’t look at him as she asked timidly, “You got any condoms?”

“Well I always have a supply, I mean my friends always want a sheath over the weapon when I entertain them.”

“The hookers?”

“Well, yeah.”

Looking down, she mumbled, “Get one.”

“How come?”

Not in the mood to be fucked around, Rachael shook her head and snorted, “You mean it’s not obvious? I’m lying naked on your bed, and I ask you to get a condom; Jesus!”

“Rach, I don’t think you’re in the right frame of mind at the moment.”

“What?”

“Well this would be like hiding-under-the-bed sex, or a running away hump, or a he-makes-me-dinner, so I’ll let him have sex with me.”

“Jesus, you wanta fuck me or not?”

“Yes and no.”

“Well go with the yes bit, because I wanta have sex!”

She watched as his gaze dropped to his lap, then she said, “This is consensual okay, and I’ll just pretend that it’s someone else fucking me.”

Marco had to laugh, then he put on his serious face as he gazed at her and asked, “Yeah, who are you going to imagine that it is?”

“Ummm,” she bowed her face, thought about it, then replied, “Can’t think of anybody at the moment.”

She watched his head bow again, and with her head spinning, she assumed that she should let him know what this was about. “Listen, fuck … shit … I’m just hanging on at the moment, and I’m in a really bad place okay, and I don’t wanta get stuck there. I know I’m too juiced up to have an orgasm, but you know, physical stuff, I wanta try it, I mean fuck, I don’t wanta be scared of sex for the rest of my life, and, and I trust you and I know you’ll be gentle with me.”

Marco gazed at the ceiling, cursing his luck and damning those of Higher Powers. Ye Big Dogs who reside in the Paradise Above, had a perverted sense of humour. For years he’d been praying to them, requesting, begging, pleading to make this girl lay before him, and when it finally happens, the version of the girl they present to him was severely broken and damaged.

“How about a massage, I’ll give you a nice, relaxing massage?”

“Fuck!” she snorted, “Didn’t you understand what I said?”

“Rach …”

“What?”

“How about this; have a shower, freshen up and then we’ll go out.”

She flopped back on the bed and muttered, “Fuck.”

“It’s a beautiful day, so we’ll go down the park, get some lunch and just relax.”

“I’m not going anywhere!” she yelled.

Marco rubbed his brow then gazed at her. “Rach, there’s that old story about the little boy, and his mom bought him a new bike, and she said, Here’s a new experience for you, riding on your very own bike. So the boy’s real excited, and he went for a ride on the bike, but he fell off and hurt himself, so he never wanted to ride the bike again. His mom told him, Just because you had one bad experience, it doesn’t mean that you should give up. The boy remembered the pain, and he decided that he was never going to ride the bike again, and he was never going to try anything new again. His mom pleaded with him, Please try, life will give you many gifts if you always try your best and you never give up. The boy ignored her, because he didn’t want to get hurt any more, but the mom was always at him; Baby, things happen if you make them happen; live, explore and challenge, and life won’t be your master, you will be the master of your life.”

“I’ve never heard that story,” Rachael replied grumpily as she looked at him, “What happened in the end?”

“Arrhh, that kinda was the end.”

“Stupid fucking story; no wonder I’ve never heard it.” she slurred.

“Ummm, I just kinda made it up,” he began bashfully, “And I made it up because it’s not a boy in the story, it’s a girl, and …”

“What?”

“The girl in the story is my best friend.”

Feeling so small and vulnerable, Rachael sobbed, “Don’t you understand? I wanted a fuck to try and help me forget about everything, even if it’s just for ten minutes.”

“I can appreciate that, but Rach, instead of helping you forget, I want to help you get better.”

Surly, agitated, she snorted, “Yeah, well news flash Bucko, what happened to me, I ain’t gunna get better!”

Marco wheeled closer and said respectfully, “I understand what you’re going through Rach, I do; but except for drinking gallons of booze and smoking and snorting, you’re not doing anything, and I want to drag you back into life.”

Tense and scared, she faced him and snapped, “What happened, what happened to me has just about fucking destroyed me!”

Marco pinched his nose, drew in a large breath and tried to compose himself as he said, “Rach, I know that, and I’ll be here for you every time it comes crashing down, but at the moment, you’re not living, you’re just existing.”

“Yeah, well fuck, I, I got fucking destroyed, and I need, I need …” she sniffled, so fragile as she mumbled, “I need somewhere to hide, I need to hide away from, from … everything.”

Marco was trembling because he knew that this was it; this was the make-or-break point. Sighing, he wheezed out, “I know Rach, I know, and I’m not expecting you to be your old self again overnight, I realise that it’s going to be a long, hard road, and it’s only going to be baby steps at the start, but Rach, I’m going to help you, I’m going to be there for you every step of the way.”

Rachael felt so alone, although she did think about what he was saying. She lowered her gaze and skimmed her fingers over the doona, trying to suck back the sobs as she asked quietly, “Fuck the park, I mean what would we do down the park?”

“Have some lunch, take it easy and just be involved in the day.”

She needed clarification, so she asked, “So, so you’re rather go down the park than fuck me?”

“That’s the yes and no thing again,” Marco sighed. “Yes, I would like a quick bang, and let me assure you, if I did have sex with you, it would be quick, because I’ve dreamt about it so many times, like I mean you probably wouldn’t even know that it happened; but right at this point in time, the no answer wins.”

“So you’re giving up something that you’ve dreamt about in order to help me?”

“Yeah, I’d like to help you Rach,” he nodded, then he said, “But more importantly, I want to resurrect you.”

She flopped down and sobbed, and Marco moved in and ran a hand over her shoulder, whispering, “It’s okay Rach, let it all out, because, because …” he drew in a large breath, then said emotionally, “I’m here for you, I’ll, I’ll always be here for you.”