First Kiss, Last Breath Page 4

  Andy jolted, frozen in his tracks.

  It was slight, subtle even, yet it was enough for Andy to notice. The air bristled with a sudden density that hadn’t been there previously. It was an evil presence stealing the oxygen from the room. The demon’s smile seemed wider than before and its cruel eyes shone with amusement.

  Andy didn’t move. He imagined Glib leaving the wall for him, claws outstretched, lips pulled back with razor-sharp teeth on show.

  His first kiss.

  Andy sickened again, but then something curious happened. Anger, hot and unfamiliar, surged in him. The fatigue, the underlying fear and the frustration; it balled into a power as yet unrealized.

  Andy spied the tins of emulsion lined up meticulously on the bottom shelf of his battered old bookcase. He grabbed the red paint and wrenched open the lid. Blood thundered between his ears.

  “It’s your fault you little bastard!”

  Hot with rage, Andy dunked his brush, drowning it in red. He raised it like a saber and approached the wall.

  Glib moved rapidly, grotesquely. The demon sprang from its crouch and the wall appeared to bend outward as Glib raked a claw in Andy’s direction.

  Andy screamed and stumbled back. The pot crashed to the floor and sprayed red up the Emerald Forest like a severed throat gushing blood. Paint formed a spreading puddle at his feet.

  Glib howled and scurried along the confines of the wall–a spider trapped behind a glass.

  Andy watched in horror as the demon moved in a frenzy, up and down, side to side, snarling and snapping, searching for a way out of its two-dimensional prison. The wall appeared to bulge and strain, and Glib’s metaphysical shackles bent precariously. The demon’s camouflage was broken and it screamed at Andy from behind the thin membrane of the wall.

  Glib stopped to gather breath, and stared at Andy with hatred and rage burning in its expression.

  Andy turned to run, tripped on the foot of his bed, and fell hard into the cast iron fire. He smashed his head and darkness swarmed over him.

  Chapter 7

  Andy woke with a start. Pale light shone into the room between his partially drawn curtains. The soreness in his head struck him first then the dreadful notion he had dreamed something terrible he couldn’t remember. He pushed himself away from the fireplace and looked to the Emerald Forest. The poisonous smudges remained but the demon didn’t.

  Andy scrambled into a seated position and frantically looked around the room. He cried out as the turmoil took shape. Red paint was splashed across the floor and pieces of his sketchpad were torn and discarded all over. Painting after painting, drawing after drawing, all shredded and chewed and scattered wildly, as if some hurricane had smashed the place.

  There was no sign of the demon.

  Andy breathed a faltering sigh of relief, but then fear hit him as he realized the monster was loose and could be anywhere. His skull throbbed. He touched his right temple and winced when he found a deep cut and swelling. He moved his hair aside and pressed a little harder. He withdrew bloodied fingers then noticed the time on his watch and gasped. It was just after eight in the morning. He had slept through the night.

  Andy pulled himself gingerly to his feet and moved toward the porthole mirror to inspect his wound but stopped when he noticed the red paint on the faded blue carpet, formed in the shape of hoof-prints. They were a trail leading from the puddle of paint by the edge of the mural. They extended as far as the fireplace where he had been lying then disappeared.

  Andy was motionless as terror exploded in him.

  He could feel it clearly then, the cancer within.

  Glib was back inside his head.

  Chapter 8

  Disoriented, Andy blinked. He was sitting in the packed assembly hall at Aquinas College. He had lost time again and could barely remember the morning. The announcement was shocking and the students around him wept as one.

  Caroline Harper was dead.

  Andy belonged to this mess. He listened distractedly as Principle Jasper bumbled through the announcement.

  “...terrible fire...no survivors...excused for the day if required...counseling sessions available on site...sensitivity and compassion...funeral plans private to family and friends.”

  On occasion, some of the words crept into Andy’s conscious, but largely he just stared at Principle Jasper, recognizing the shock and the grief plastered all over the teacher’s weary features. For once, Andy felt genuine empathy for another human being.

  “She fucking deserved it.”

  Andy flinched at the dark voice inside his head. It sounded like his conscience, like him, but it was different. It was darker, demonized. But there was something of the spite, the self-loathing he had felt when he considered Caroline Harper’s popularity after finishing his portrait of her. Sickness reared in his stomach then hardened into anger.

  Glib. This was somehow the demon’s doing. He knew it.

  Andy blinked and saw flashes of red gore sprayed up the Emerald Forest and torn pieces of his sketchpad falling in his bedroom like snowflakes. Hoof-prints moved toward him, made by an invisible presence. He saw Caroline Harper as the sun then, her hair brilliant solar flares. It started to singe and blacken and smoke. Caroline Harper screamed as the flames reached her skin.

  “She was too hot. That’s why she burned. That’s why she’s dead.”

  The girl beside Andy stood, sniveling. Others followed her. She caught Andy’s stare and smiled at him. Smudges of dark makeup on her cheeks reminded Andy of the Emerald Forest. He returned her smile weakly and watched her leave the hall.

  It was a while before Andy followed. The muddle of people had thinned, allowing him a path to the playing fields. Already small groups were scattered around where friends sought comfort together. Shocked mutterings rose and fell as he crossed beyond the main entrance to the college. The sound was maddening inside his head. He was grateful when he left the building and the fresh air of the morning hit him so he was able to breathe again. He found the spot where he had first met Nor, and sat on the grass. He couldn’t see her among the grief-stricken crowd.

  Glib was responsible–Andy didn’t doubt if for a second–but why? Why shut the light out on all these people?

  “Some people are born to suffer.”

  Andy flinched, put his hands over his ears to suppress the unwanted voice.

  “Some people are meant to be alone.”

  Andy should never have threatened to paint over Glib. The demon had killed Caroline Harper because Andy had used her to ease his pain. It was an act of revenge, a demonstration of power. That had to be it. The demon was inside him. He could feel the darkness, worsening as it had on the mural. What exactly would he be capable of with the demon in his head? Andy considered Nor. What if Glib made him hurt her?

  “Some people are meant to be alone.”

  Andy cried and buried his head in his hands to hide his torment from any passing students. There was no escaping the nightmares, the dark thoughts. The white bottle of Prozac popped into his head and he froze, strangely uncertain.

  “Hey.”

  Andy recognized the voice. Fireworks, good and bad, exploded inside him. At the sound of Nor’s voice he felt Glib’s influence tear away from him in an instant. Just as he had felt the cancer return to him, he now felt it leave.

  Nor stood over him, two of her girlfriends loitering behind her. Andy roughly wiped the tears from his face. Nor smiled at her friends and waved them off before taking a seat by his side. He felt different, lighter, exorcised. He stared at her bewildered, knowing that the darkness was gone, but not why, or how. He didn’t understand what was happening to him.

  Nor placed a hand on top of his. Bizarrely he couldn’t feel it.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “Did you know her?”

  Andy scrunched his face up in confusion then realized she was talking about Caroline Harper. He shook his head.

  “Me neither.” She paused then. “But it feels like maybe I did.
She was eighteen, same age as me. Imagine that. Imagine dying at eighteen.”

  Andy shrank. He couldn’t bear to imagine all those lost days, all the hurt for those left behind.

  “She won’t even finish her A-levels. That was what I was thinking back there. How sad is that? I did PE with her. All I could think is that she’ll never pass the course. If... If that was me, what would Dad do?”

  Andy didn’t answer. He wanted to scream, needed some release for his tumult. Nor gently withdrew her hand and they sat in silence. He knew Nor was contemplating the cruel mysteries of existence. He was simply trying not to throw up.

  An alarm signaled the end of recess and Nor reached into her bag to pull out a few tapes.

  “I brought you these.” She smiled. He stared at her, somewhere between elated and horrified. “Try not to look so gormless. I realized when I left for class that I’m going to have to step up your musical education if you’re going to hang out with me and my friends.”

  Nor passed Andy the tapes and he reached for them tentatively, half expecting them to be figments of his imagination. They were solid, cool to the touch. He grinned, only just registering the comment about hanging out.

  Nor laughed. “Listen to Definitely Maybe first. Oasis are a brilliant band. Don’t get me wrong, the Rat Pack are great and everything, but you’ll soon learn that my friends aren’t as cool or as well versed as me. Though not many people are.” She winked. “We need to get you listening to something a bit more ‘now.’”

  Andy smiled, and in spite of everything soared, but only briefly. He didn’t have a tape-deck. Grandpa only listened to twelve-inches on his record player. Nor was one step ahead.

  “Oh and I thought I’d lend you my old Walkman so you didn’t have any excuses not to do your homework.” She fished a worn silver stereo out of her bag. “The tapes and the Walkman, they’re loans. I want them back.”

  “Of course,” Andy said quickly as he piled them into his rucksack before she changed her mind. “Thanks. You’re– You’re something else.”

  Nor smiled broadly, her face lifted. They both leaned back and watched the multitude of students leaving the college.

  “Do you think people will use it as an excuse to take the rest of the day off?”

  Andy shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe.”

  Nor smiled. “The thought crossed my mind. That’s so bad isn’t it? Crying one minute, thinking about skipping class the next. I kept wondering whether there might be a film worth watching at Grand Central.”

  Andy didn’t answer. Did Nor want him to ask her to go to the cinema?

  His heart started to beat faster and he felt a growing pressure to speak. Nothing came. He needed to say something. His face burned with embarrassment. Nor wore a good-natured smirk and Andy knew she understood the game and played it with good spirit.

  Still Andy couldn’t ask her. He strained, reached down deep for some courage.

  Nor eventually stood. “Don’t think Dad would be too happy if I skipped anyway. Better get to English.” She hesitated. “Any danger of you joining us today? I bet you don’t know shit about Sylvia Plath.”

  Andy shook his head and wished he were someone else, someone tougher.

  “You’re a mysterious one, Andy, and you know us girls, we like a bit of mystery in a guy.” Her expression changed slightly, showed a hint of vulnerability that Andy hadn’t previously noticed. “But not too much.”

  Nor turned and took a few lingering steps.

  Something heroic and unexpected rocketed through Andy’s veins. He dropped his bag and stood anxiously.

  “Nor!”

  She hesitated and looked back, struggling to contain a grin.

  A long moment passed

  “Yes?”

  “Would you, umm...” His face was a burning ember.

  “Would I?”

  “Umm, maybe like to, umm, do something, sometime–with me?”

  Nor giggled. Her mischief had returned. “Well how can a girl turn down an offer like that?”

  Andy laughed nervously. Nor had brought something out of him he didn’t think existed. He was exposed, vulnerable, like his heart was outside the protection of his ribcage for the first time in his life. Nor spoke before he could hyperventilate.

  “I’m at a gig this weekend.”

  It was as if the earth cracked beneath Andy’s feet. He started to sink, the sucker-punch overwhelming. Nor quickly lifted him.

  “So maybe we could do something tomorrow night instead?”

  “Okay,” he said, somehow managing to coordinate speech. “What should we do?”

  “You asked me, remember?”

  “Oh.”

  Nor laughed and raised a small hand to stifle her chuckle. “I might have known that you wouldn’t have some sophisticated plan up your sleeve, Romeo. How about we just hang out?”

  “At yours?” Andy asked, a little too quickly.

  The happiness disappeared from Nor’s expression. “Best not. Dad–he wouldn’t be happy.” She hesitated. “He expects too much sometimes. I’m not him, never will be. He would rather I was in my room studying than going out on some date. Boys are distractions.”

  Andy answered automatically. “So this will be a date then?” He smiled as he realized what he said was pretty cool.

  Nor blushed then grinned. “I’m glad you understand. And yes I suppose it is.”

  Andy’s smile widened.

  “Maybe we could hang at yours? Listen to those tapes?” Nor offered.

  “No!” Andy blurted.

  Nor flinched as if he’d struck her. She folded her arms. It was a while before she spoke. “Okay. Are your parents weird too? I suppose we do have A-levels this year.”

  Andy shook his head. He thought of Grandpa and the demon living somewhere between his bedroom and his brain.

  “That’s not it. Mum and Dad are dead,” he said quietly.

  Nor’s face fell. She quickly sat back beside him. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I live with Grandpa and, umm, he’s not very well.”

  “I’m sorry,” Nor repeated.

  Andy didn’t want to lie but he couldn’t tell her the truth.

  “No need to be,” he said then paused, searching for the right words. He had only ever spoken about his parents with Grandpa and even then only briefly. Surprisingly when he spoke it came freely, much easier than when he'd asked Nor to go on a date with him. “I don’t remember them, neither of them, not really. Dad died when I was three, Mum, a couple of weeks before my fifth birthday. I–I don’t really celebrate my birthdays.” Andy tried to laugh but it didn’t feel right.

  Nor smiled sadly and took his hand again. “We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to.”

  Andy shook his head. “No. It’s fine.” Something occurred to him. “It’s good to, I think. It’s important...and you know what? There isn’t anyone I’ve ever been able to talk to about it with. I guess that’s always been my problem.”

  Nor nodded. Her grip on him tightened. “You don’t remember them? I can’t imagine how that feels.”

  “It’s weird. I see their faces, and I’ve obviously seen photographs, and heard stories from Grandpa, but I think I was too young for what I see to be actual memories. Sometimes they’re just a blur.” He paused and studied Nor’s reaction. He continued cautiously.

  “I create pictures in my head, and I see them from time to time, but not as they really were. I think that’s why I paint, to capture every detail. Take a photograph. Some of the detail in it can be incidental. But not in a painting or a sketch. Everything is there for a reason. If I had a perspective of my parents, I could paint them exactly how they were to me.” He blushed. “Does that make sense?”

  Nor smiled. “I think so. And from what I’ve seen you do a good job of making your pictures real. Maybe you could paint me one day?”

  Andy shifted uncomfortably. His last paintings hadn’t turned out so well.

  “Do you mi
nd me asking what happened to your parents?”

  Andy hesitated, a small tear opening, fresh pain starting to ooze from it. He drew in a long breath.

  “Dad had lung cancer. It spread to his lymph nodes. He didn’t last long after they diagnosed it. And Mum, well, Grandpa told me that her heart gave out.” He slowed and Nor seemed strangely faraway. “I’ve wondered whether she couldn’t go on without him, like she couldn’t face life after he died. Can people be that important to each other?”

  Nor shrugged. “I sometimes think the world would be a better place without people in it.”

  Andy looked at her for an age and didn’t speak. He was reminded of painting worlds, not people.

  “But then I think of my family, and my friends, and even when they piss me off, I know how important they are to me. Even the music, and films, and books I like. None of them would exist without people out there making them. Every day is worth living because of other people. I guess that’s what your parents had–they made it all worthwhile for each other.”

  Andy felt an explosion inside him. He couldn’t hold it back. His voice came out as a tremble. “So what about me? Mum had me. I couldn’t have been enough because she left me alone. If it wasn’t for Grandpa I’d–I’d–” Andy stopped, bowed his head and put his hands over his face. He didn’t cry but he stayed still like that, searching for calm, desperately trying to keep it together. When he looked up, Nor held his arm. He had no idea how long it had been for.

  After another lengthy silence, Nor spoke. “So how about the cinema tomorrow then? We can head down there straight after college.”

  Andy nodded. “I’d like that.”

  Chapter 9

  The sky was so dark Andy felt as if he were walking home at night rather than in the late afternoon. He glanced up nervously at the brooding clouds and remembered the thunder and rain from yesterday. He grimaced and quickened his pace.

  Nor’s ebullient influence started to wear off about two thirds into the journey home. The nearer Andy got, the worse he felt. He could only push the reality of Grandpa’s death to one side for so long. One thing was for sure, the demon was no longer inside him. When Andy had heard Nor’s voice earlier that morning he had been certain the demon’s malignant presence had disappeared because of her. It was as though Glib couldn’t bear to be inside his head with Nor.