Lust Demented Part 5

{XXI}.

STUPOR INTERRUPTED, I FOUND MYSELF in a chokehold being dragged up the backstairs. The world was moving in reverse. Bouncers usually threw people down the stairs, not up. Gradually breath left me. The throat was a vulnerable spot.

Detective Anderson picked me up with one hand, jerking me onto my feet. Rhythmically patting my face until I opened my eyes...

"Say something Farrow. Say something."

"What's the point of it all?"

"Didn't you notice the resemblance?"

"It's all how you look at it."

"Out of all the tips that came in. That dancer was Missy's lost twin sister."

"It wasn't her."

"I know, but the resemblance."

"She was hardly a sh.e.l.l of what Missy was."

"Farrow. Dig deeper. Don't give in to exhaustion yet. Hold it together." Detective Anderson put his arm around me. He spoke closely, trying to join my family through presence alone.

It was clear by the way Sgt. Bethany Powers closed in on me she meant business.

"With the way pieces are disappearing from the chess board, you're in some position." Seagull feathers falling from her mouth. The nozzle of her gun was at my throat.

"Are you listening Farrow?" All I could see were her green green eyes. "Give me Lars and I'll give you my book."

"Your book? Wait... Lars? Why Lars?"

"There are two perps, not one. Gloom was dead for 18 hours before Percy turned up. There was a huge difference in the amount of force used to stab the life out of the two victims."

"How much do you know?"

"We know everything. Just remember you're lucky to be walking the streets. You better hold onto this." She was handing me the gun again. I knew better not to take it.

"For once in your life Farrow, take what you deserve." I turned my back on her.

"Farrow, we did our part. Now you do yours." The b.u.t.t of the pistol smashed into my head. The world faded.

{XXII}.

I WAS AN ARROW SHOT from the beach towards the sun only to drop into the ocean. The ocean in this case is an ocean of books. The sky I was staring at was a fresco on the ceiling of the New York Public Library's reading room. I rubbed the bruise on the back of my head. Kind of 'em to place me face first into a hardcover copy of A Greater Truth. I rubbed my eyes with both fingers, standing up, and moving to the main staircase. I kept rubbing my eyes until I was staring at the door leading out onto the roof, which was left open a crack, similar to the way Percy's apartment invited me in. I kept rubbing my eyes until Lars appeared in front of me. He didn't turn around, just kept writing in the fat notebook. He knew I was there, but took his time finishing up his last thought.

Lars popped the pencap back on, sword in its sheath, momentarily leaning inward like he was disemboweling himself. I knew the words were still coming.

"You came here to trade confessions, I a.s.sume." Lars peeked out of his black sungla.s.ses.

"Lars, I knew about the baby. One day your old man hunted me down. Percy told me he wanted to raise the baby as if it was his own. He wanted to never let the baby know I was the father. I froze in anger. I could hardly react. He said he'd take care of me. Rent an apartment for me where I could write and be left alone. He said he'd publish every book that I'd put out for the rest of my life. A few weeks later I sent him A Greater Truth. He seemed to truly like it, but said if we were going to sell it, I'd have to change the ending. I flew into a rage and disappeared on a never-ending bender. Somewhere, in the middle of the haze, Percy approached me one last time. This time he had a better plan he said. He looked devious, but even before he explained what he was up to, I knew it would work. Percy still wanted to change the ending, but instead of publishing it under my name. He wanted to publish it under Missy's name... but only until it was success. Which is when he promised to reveal I was the true writer. Percy told me he wanted to sell a scandal. He said he not only planned to put out a profitable book twice, but he wanted to create a legend. It was best for the baby. It was best for me. It was best for your father. It was best for everyone, but Missy. I wanted to tear his throat out, then and there, but there was some truth in what he said. No matter how evil or manipulative, there was truth in his plan. And words are words, right Lars. Words are words."

"Words are words Farrow. Words are words." Lars continued to scribble without looking up.

"Lars, I knew about the baby. I was in on A Greater Truth. And I went to Gramercy Park to kill your father that night..."

"But he was already dead." It was a tough call. I couldn't pinpoint if Lars lost his mind recently or he never possessed it in the first place "He was, but I wanted to do it. There was no satisfaction, only more pain when I saw him there."

"Farrow you couldn't kill anyone."

"How do you know? We're all beastly. The instinct is in all of us. Some can kill for a few dollars or a foul glare. I had a great reason to kill Percy Featherton. I could've killed him."

p.i.s.sing me off, Lars just kept nodding his head, rejecting my claim.

"I could. I would've."

Br.i.m.m.i.n.g with arrogance, Lars kept nodding.

"How do you know that I couldn't kill?"

"You know Farrow: Anyone can write a f.u.c.king book. Even when my father was coming up and half the country was illiterate, they fought through it to the last page. Nowadays teenagers can thumb-type a f.u.c.king novella on their phones. Are you aware that there are more writers in New York City than in any other spot in the world. Now there are a little less." A cemetery silence filled the terrace. Two lions and the white steps of the New York Public Library were below us. Lars became stone. The buildings became flesh.

"Farrow, same as you I showed up that night for revenge. A different type of revenge."

I didn't know what to say... a thousand more scenarios of death and destruction blossomed within my head of flames. An acre of wilting flowers slowly burned, only to be born again.

"I killed my father. Percy Featherton. I stabbed him dead. One less writer clogging the shelves." It was strange the way Lars said his father's name as if he was standing in front of a captivated jury or behind a gla.s.s window of family and friends while settling into the electric chair. Lars morphed inhuman. His breaths became large demanding everything from his chest.

"I have no honor. The world is filled with people who everyday go places and do things in order to create a better life around them. And what do I do? I write about it. While people live and people die: I write. Write myself to f.u.c.king death. Farrow..." The words left Lars mouth with a strange croak. "Sell me to the cops and get your book back. I know they've already asked you."

I could see Lars goring his own father to death. I could see Percy not bothering to struggle. I could see Lars insatiable, needing to kill him over and over again.

"I saw my father kill Gloom. He literally exterminated the compet.i.tion like one of his biblically tainted psychopaths. He manipulated you, Missy, me, and a thousand others. He is... was the top publisher in New York and I am the only heir to his legacy."

"n.o.body needs to know the truth."

"I dishonored myself. What kind of man am I?"

"A man survives Lars. A man survives."

"Right now would be a good time to be a bird instead of a man." Pigeons and sapsuckers stuck to the stone lions out front.

"Shut up Lars. Shut the f.u.c.k up. Choose the middle ground."

"Writing... art... life... is confrontation. The middle ground is for p.u.s.s.ies. You have to be willing to die for..." And with that Lars vaulted over the ledge.

"Better to live for it." I shouted at him on the way down.

It was a closed parachute leap for the faithless. The wingless bird flew forward ignoring the violent spasms attacking its lungs. The sickly grin stayed carved on his face, until it exploded on the library steps. Live street theater, I could see the red paint the white stone. Squirming side to side in pain, his sungla.s.ses stayed strapped to his face.

{XXIII}.

LANGUAGE FAILED LARS. GUARDED BY two lions of the same stone. The words were most likely trapped inside. The words were the true prisoners. Caged lions exploding from the burning trucks. Handcuffed writers scribbling behind their backs.

I had to find a better way off the roof. The door leading back to the reading room was jammed. I knew exactly who was on the other side by the sound of her boots. I kicked the door a few times for good measure. She kicked back. The heavy door knocked the wind out of me.

"You're always wearing other people's clothes." Sgt. Bethany Powers swooped down on me, rolling me back towards the ledge facing 5th Avenue.

"I guess I am." I backpedaled until I could feel the open air behind me.

"It doesn't have to be this way. Quit while you're behind. Farrow..." b.a.l.l.s in her palm, she slowly squeezed. Any hesitation would lead me to an early end. More than a couple stories to the ground. The second set of screams let me know I was airborne. I saw the redhead's emotionless face study my fall.

"I hate you."

"You love me."

"Maybe."

{XXIV}.

SACRILEGE WAS USELESS AGAINST THE immune. I woke up in a hospital bed with IV's in my arms and the stains of leaky pipes above me. There was no sign of Kiko, instead Hawaii stood over me in her turquoise scrubs.

"I fell with him. I'm still falling."

"You're not falling."

"From the library with the lions." Everything ached.

"You're in Bellevue Farrow. I've been keeping a close eye on you... waiting here for you to wake up."

"I'm tied to you. I have to get back to Queens. I feel sick. I need to write. Finish my new book."

"You need to rest. Farrow..." Hawaii wanted to tell me more. I thought she was going to say I was dying of a terminal disease. I tried to stop her before she did.

"Hawaii it's okay. Some things are better off not knowing." I raised my hand gently caressing her face. Everything felt soft. The world was tickling my skin from the other side. I could tell by her stare that Hawaii had to get it off her chest. I grabbed her collar for mercy, but she wouldn't keep her mouth shut.

"Missy never even considered getting rid of the baby. Instead, she asked me to create the illusion to everyone outside the hospital that I performed the abortion. Only Missy, Percy, and myself knew the truth. We devised a plan with Percy's funds preparing for the birth. A few well-placed bribes and I swung a transfer to the NICU months in advance. We were going to fake an illness, but it ended up coming true. Sepsis. I admitted your daughter. She stayed in the NICU for six weeks. I watched over her like she was my own. I watched over her just as I watched over you, but you've only been here for a few days." Lacking strength to speak, the tears ran down my cheeks, until I could taste them.

"When your daughter was finally better, Missy showed up alone disappearing with the baby down a smoky alley. I didn't take the money Percy offered to me. I told him to give it to the hospital and to my surprise he did just that."

"How much?" Tripping Hawaii up on insignificant details would be the best way to figure out what and what not to believe.

"It was a lot."

"Where's Chiara?"

"How'd you know her name? I'll take you to her. C'mon let's go."

I ripped the IV's out of my arms and hopped back on my feet. Fresh pages went flying out from under my pillow. A melancholy breeze took the heavily medicated confetti to the streets. Halfway between two worlds, I expected my legs to crumble, but I hardly felt them. Down a few hallways and a packed elevator, we floated through a purgatorial abyss of patients.

Baby babble slid from the realm of forgotten dreams. Imagination turned to words. I was going to meet my daughter for the first time. I couldn't stop wondering what she was like. In the lobby, Hawaii quickly slipped through the revolving door, leaving me in the compartment behind her. The silver dollar vixen went haywire when she hit the mosaic pavement, ruthlessly dumping a sick old man out of his wheelchair, only to shove it into the revolving door, jamming it up. I was stuck behind the gla.s.s staring at the faces studying me a sea lion in the aquarium.

"Leave!" Missy's screams shrunk the night's sirens. I could hear neighbors unlocking their deadbolts to peek out into the hallways. I opened our apartment door only to hear theirs shut. The hallway and steps went fast. The street came easy. I crossed in traffic and sat down in Father Demo Square. I watched Missy run down Bleeker in tears. It hurt being impaled on a spear. I couldn't move. Only let her run. I hated seeing such pain. I knew if I was the one running, I would need her to take off after me. In spite, I stayed on the bench until she was out of sight. Getting up like a spy I slinked to the A train.

Baffled, Kiko stopped in her tracks, looking me up and down. She dropped the flowers and a teddy bear to the ground.

"Every time, your heart feels more pure."

"I have a daughter now."

"You should be holding her then."

"I want that more than anything." My head barely moved, slightly swinging back and forth in the small s.p.a.ce of the invisible iron maiden, sharper than steel nails.