Shark Cage

It wasn’t meant to be simple, I know that now. It wasn’t meant to just disappear and god damn it I shouldn’t have been so naïve to think that it did. I could hear nothing over the blood pumping in my ears, my wife’s voice was muffled and the sounds of the television were no existent. The images on the screen were jumbled, twisted into a flurry of colours and shapes.

I was pretty sure that Adi had the heating turned up, and that there was a blanket wrapped around my frail shoulders, but despite this I was freezing. There was a smell, like burning rubber or tar ; or both. A shiver ran up and down my spine.

“Finally, the faggots out of the way.”

“What?” I thought.

I chewed on my finger nails and squeezed my eyes shut. Beside me Adi shifted.

“God, feels good to be out of the cage.”

“No.” I cried, “No.”

Adi was shaking me, her hands held tightly onto my shoulders and she was almost screaming my name. I clenched my left fist and dug my canine down into the flesh of my thumb.

“What did you do with him?” Whether the dialogue was internal or not, I can’t quite recall. It all seemed too lost within itself to really determine anything.

The laughter that occurred inside my mind was haunting; it was maniacal and sadistic and lingered there for weeks after. I would wake, hearing that laughter and shaking from head to toe. I pushed Adi away from me and pulled my knees tight against my chest. My head was drawn down to rest upon them. I can’t begin to imagine how crazy I looked and the fear that must have ran through my wife veins. I just know that the world seemed to be folding in on itself, that my last bit of sanity was being raped.

“I-I’m calling Mike.”

“Don’t.” I screamed, “Please, just – just go. Go and take the kids. I’ll be fine.”

“No. I ‘m not leaving you.”

I gazed up at her; she was standing not even two feet away. I could just take hold of her wrist; I could snap those fragile – No.

“You have to fucking go. I’ll hurt you. I – I’ll kill you.” I hugged my knees and placed my chin upon them; my eyes were forced shut. I couldn’t look at her pained expression any longer, “Like I did to Mike. I stabbed him. Fuck I could have killed him.”

“Billie Joe –“

“Don’t. Just leave.”

I could feel Fink’s black essence seeping into my capillaries, through my blood stream. He was like bacteria infecting my entire body and attacking my white cells slowly. And the last I can remember my vision was dying. The shapes and colours were fading, Adi’s screams became distant and finally, I was asleep. I was dreaming.

I was dancing, waltzing along with Adi. On the sidelines I could see my children sitting with a rather awkward looking man. He wore a bomber jacket, white sunglasses and a set of bright red rosary beads. His hair was belched blonde and on his lap there was a top hat. He caught me looking and waved, flashing a million dollar smile as he did so. This, I knew, was Twitch. I look back in the direction of my wife only to discover she was no longer there, no, instead there stood Mike. His white suit contrasted my black one and our bodies fit perfectly as one. We were surrounded by faceless people, twirling round and round to the beat of the music. I gazed into Mike’s wonderfully blue eyes and they took me away; we were the only living ones on the dance floor, the rest were just mannequins.

“You’re safe here.” He said, his voice echoed a floated above us.

“I can’t stay.” I whispered.

I closed my eyes and lent forward to place my head against his chest, instead I fell. I clashed my head off the floor and was surprised at the amount of pain that ran through me. Was this not a dream?

“Mike?” I asked, as I looked up.

Twitch stood over me, his face in shadow. Beside him stood another figure, his hair black as night and his eyes; god, his eyes. They burned a deep, gruelling green, the whites were blood shot and the skin was dark beneath them.

“Alone.” It wasn’t Twitches soft voice but it came from his own mouth.

“Nothing left faggot, the sharks are out.” Fink. It was definitely fink.

“No.” I cried, “No. No.”

“Mr Armstrong calm down.”

The voice was alien to me. It wasn’t until I heard the frantic voices of my wife and two best friends that I realised I wasn’t dreaming anymore. Beside me sat a young woman, with a washcloth and a stephoscope linked around her neck. She smiled gently and touched the cloth to my head.

“Shh.” She hummed.

“Mike?” I whispered, my voice was hoarse and brittle.

“I’m here BJ.” Mike came and knelt beside me, “You had a bit of a …..fit. It’s okay now. Just – Just stay calm okay?”

“It’s alright Mr Armstrong, this is common with your condition.” The young woman spoke, “You just went away.”

“Where – where did I go? Is Adi okay? Are the boys? Did I hurt anyone?”

“No. Everyone’s fine, just shaken up. You didn’t hurt anyone but yourself Billie Joe.”

For the first time I gazed around me. I was no longer in the living room; instead I sat on the kitchen tiles. Beside me there was glass and spots of blood. My hands were cut, my arms were torn and I could feel glass beneath my skin. Yet, nothing hurt.

“It was Fink.” I whispered.

“Yeah. We know. H-He told us.”

“Fuck. I thought he was gone.” Tears ran down my cheeks and I looked to Mike for some form of comfort. But instead I found heart ache and fear in his eyes. I swallow the lump in my throat and lent my head back against the woodwork, “He was meant to be gone.”

But he wasn’t gone; he wouldn’t ever be really gone.

It made me wonder how I could even have that amount of anger, that amount of self hatred within me to build such a character. I certainly never felt it before. It was sad to know that deep down that was how I saw myself, that was how I felt about myself and others.

My heart and mind were in tatters, just like my hands; So full of glass.