Ruin Maketh Me

72 - Psycho

     The car swerves into a bustling main road full with rushing cars and other strange, unrecognisable vehicles. Beautiful buildings composed of an almost grotesque mixture of old and new bloom alongside the road in regular and yet in some indistinct manner, chaotic intervals. My fingers press to the window, involuntary. This alien scene, it's the steampunk of the future, a growing monster born from the merged forms of ancient art and new invention far more advanced than that of Earth. Now, it's clearer than ever, there's no room for flimsy imagination, this world Endora is not Earth, it has never been remotely the same. Here, magic has taken the place of science.
     And no matter how I try, I can't wield magic.
     A sudden aching pang assaults my head, and I wince towards the door. Flashes of blurry, dim images of grey ceilings and red and distant shouts squeeze through my eyes. What is this? Where? My memories? Restlessness churns in my heart, and something different and yet still recognisable shifts inside the Pit at the murky shots of red.
    A sharp gasp leaks from my mouth, and I press my head back into the soft leather seat. This feels so...wrong and yet, yet so right. There's something right beyond my reach, something that'll come at my call and piece together my soul. Who are you? Living in that Pit, so alone, who are you?
     "Cynder?" A voice blares from the right, "Cynder are you alright?"
     The images surge with a blinding glare and recede slowly back, leaving a bitter aftertaste within the jumbled insides of my mind. I plant a hand into the seat and force my back to straighten against the pounding pain, "Fine," Leonard's face inks into my vision blearily, "I'm fine."
     The Fox's eyes narrow, and he re-settles himself into his place, "We can't have you getting sick, princess."
"Shut up." My voice grates out sharper than I meant to, and the air becomes even heavier than before.
My jaw tightens, and I turn my eyes back to the scene of organised chaos outside. The configuration marble and gleaming metal seem even more hideously beautiful and horribly foreign. None of the twisting spirals and rising sky scrapers help to calm the burning ache of the persistent pounding, if anything, the twinges of pain increases in frequency. Is this an after-affect of the drug Declan gave me? And those fragmented images, are they my memories? The grey walls and ceilings of the transient scenes though blurry, certainly match the room I had been in.
The car takes another sharp turn into a rather remote lane without any street lamps, but before I can distinguish anything in the sudden and illogical pitch dark, a strange sensation passes over my skin. A faint, glimmering silver sheen spreads over and past my body, and in that split second it's like I'm breaking through a sheet of water. The space outside bursts into sudden light, red, green, blue, pink neon, all burning the air a bright luminescent mass, and the momentary eery silence is overtaken by a chorus of sound. The sidewalks are crammed with masses of people, some lining up outside doorways blasting music, some leaning against the wall, cigarettes in hand, groping others underneath their clothes.
Faint nausea tumbles through my stomach. These neon lights, the music, the hubbub of people covered in glitter and makeup... everything's too familiar, too quickly. Too much the same. Too little that's different.
A slow, trilling whistle resounds through the car, above the waves of sound outside, "So this is the red light district of Santana." Hoplin says, grinning out at the dark figures in alleyways, "Are we staying here tonight?"
     "Yeah." Leonard's attention flickers to Delia, "You don't have to stay with us."
     Delia traces a finger down the glass with mild interest, "I'll pay for my room."
     "Tch." He clicks his tongue and crosses his arms.
     I take in a deep breath and turn back to the window. Our car ploughs straight ahead through the clumps of rowdy, unruly people until a large store front with shining gold letters: OASIS comes into view. Unlike the other bars and adult shops, the walkway in front is completely empty of people. The large windows set into the building are obscured with red velvet curtains, and the double doors leading inside are solid wood with golden handles. Everything, from the cleanliness and the decoration points to one thing, it's one of those clubs that require membership.
     Leonard waves a hand and jumps out of the rising doors, "Time to get off."
     Hoplin's eyes widen in wonder and bizarre excitement, "Oh my god, Oasis! Are you actually serious? We're staying here?"
     The fox casts a leery wink towards us, and I clamber out slowly from my side. The smell of smoke and wine and incense and sweat punches me straight in the gut, and for a moment I'm back on Fifth street, before the shop with its neon green lights shining on off, on off, on off—
     "Come on." He jerks his head towards me and pushes straight through the double doors.
     Hoplin runs towards the club in skipping strides, and grabbing hold of my upper arm, pulls me roughly after Leonard and Delia through the entrance. A large marble hall spreads into existence around us, and all sign of disorder disappears as cleanly as if it had never existed. I shake off Hoplin's grip roughly and survey the glittering surroundings. A large crystal chandelier sparkles warm light all over the vast marble floor, and before us, spiralling up and up is a majestic staircase of pure white stone.
A tall man in uniform comes forward from the shadowy darkness in the recesses of the hall. His sharp eyes glance over us and linger over Leonard's form. A slow smile spreads over his face, "Mr Caprio, you're right on time."
Leonard answers the man with a smile of his own, "Am I? I didn't notice."
"You've brought one more guest." The man utters slowly and clearly, gaze shifting over Delia politely, "But no matter, we have enough rooms here for all of you." He sweeps out an arm, "Please, follow me."
He leads us up the twisting staircase, around and around and around, up and up for so long it doesn't seem to ever end. The whole time, no one speaks, only the clack of shoes follow our ascent upwards... to heaven? I laugh a little to myself and grip the banister tighter. I had worked in a place like this once or twice, but it hadn't been so ceremonial like this. It had not hidden its purpose; it had all the pictures of their 'goods' hung up on the walls, not so very different from the cheap places. In that sense, that place had been choked full of ceremony and pomp as well — one of those beautiful people detached from reality, portrayed in the illusive brushstrokes of those paintings will surrender beneath your touch for as many nights as you want — what a seductive sentiment.
Hoplin's small feet disappear from view above me, and finally, I touch solid floor again. This time, we step into a corridor with pure white walls and a plush burgundy carpet. The corridor seems to stretch into an endless void either side of us with no clear beginning or finish. Unlike the hall far beneath us, this infinite space is not as well sound proofed, on purpose, I'm sure, to arouse whoever sets foot here. Low, muffled moans and cries and a symphony of sighs radiate from behind the series of closed doors carrying on into an unseeable end. The warmth of the lighting becomes alluringly unclear, and even the pure blankness of the walls are tainted with sensuality in the obscured sound of slapping flesh.
"Mmmmh." Hoplin echoes with a flushed grin, "Can you take me to see the Oasis sea?"
"Stay put." Leonard says firmly, placing a hard hand on Hoplin's shoulder.
A pout dilutes Hoplin's childish excitement, but he makes no objection and follows after the man obediently.
He takes us right, and again the journey carries on in an endless boredom of doors. 214, 216, 218, 220, 222, 224, on and on until he finally stops before a door marked with the number '288'.
"Here." The man hands out a series of golden keys, "Your rooms range from 288 to 291." His eyes bend, "It's rather easy to get lost here, so I recommend you to stay in your rooms, after all, you're not exactly regular customers." He gives a nod towards Leonard and vanishes from spaces like a dissipating projection.
A moment of utter silence passes amongst us. Leonard ruffles his red hair and presses a key into my hand. Like a normal hotel key, it's slotted in a small paper folder marked with the number 288 in swirling, black ink.
Hoplin trudges across the corridor to 291, "Awwww, I really wanted to party."
"We're not here to play." Leonard says unusually seriously, slotting his key into the door besides mine.
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Hoplin pushes his door open with a creak, "You pulled some connections so we can stay here safely and for free."
Bang. Both doors slam shut. My fingers tighten around the key. Leonard must be very confident that I can't escape, and he's right. I stare down the forever-stretching corridor, staircase nowhere to be seen anymore. I'd struggle to even find the exit to this place. Looking down the passage like this, it's confusing as to how I even managed to reach this point in eternity. Even these sounds of sex and pleasure, are they truly coming from people's mouths behind the doors? Or are they too just illusions meant to confuse?
I jam the golden key into the keyhole of the wooden door, but before I can even exert a force on the door handle, a cool hand grasps my wrist from behind.
"I'd like to have a talk with you." Delia's eyes pierce incongruently into the warm and murky surroundings.
My mouth dries, and I turn away, pushing open the door, "Ok, come in."
The room is substantially sized with a bed larger than king size placed in the center. Although the room is neutral in colour and theme, the cabinet full of vibrant dildos and vibrators of all different sizes and shapes betrays the true reason behind the plain setting. The door clicks shut behind us, and the moans that can be heard from outside completely disappears into a numb silence.
I make my way to the armchairs on the far side of the room and sit myself down without looking at her, "What do you want to speak to me about?"
She doesn't answer, she doesn't even sit. She just stands, surveying every detail of the room as if that's all she ever meant to do.
"I'm 36 summers old," She says out of nowhere, eyes tracing something distant behind me, "I have no idea why my mother had me so late, but she did, and she paid much less attention to me compared to Ralph. He grew up believing in true love, soul mates all that shit, it keeps his Shadow tethered, but my mother didn't bother much with brainwashing me. Did you know that grey wolves mate for life?" She laughs towards the ceiling, "That's what a Caesluphius does, apparently, from the very first at the beginning. I do understand how to love, but more importantly, I know how to let go. My brother, he's different, he's spent ninety-five years believing and admiring our family's obsession with love. In some sense..." she becomes quiet, "he's even worse than our mother."
Delia's eyes finally focus on me, chilling and riddled with judgement, "I thought he'd wake up after mother's death and everything's that has happened." Her fingers grip into the armchair's leather, "I was wrong. He believes in it even more religiously than before; he's learnt nothing from his lesson with Julius Kade. But thank Uhyls and Merlow, at least he didn't love Julius, all he had was a slight fondness and fascination towards him. But you, you're different." She lifts a finger and points straight at my chest, "Do you know what that crest symbolises? Do you know even the tiniest bit with your dull human mind?"
My mouth opens, but the words choke up in flames at the back of my throat. She's right, I don't know, not truly. How long have I known Ralphus, really?
A laugh rises shrilly to the ceiling from her delicate mouth, "You don't know anything at all! He's pledged his whole five hundred years to you. He'll never let go, not until you die, not even after your human flesh rots away. I can guess it, he'll gladly die with you so that he doesn't have to go through the pain of losing you. He'll give you everything you ask for, he'll pick the stars out of the sky, jump into hell's fire if you asked him, but do you think you deserve all that? Do you deserve his absolute loyalty and devotion? You, human, you can barely survive a hundred years, you can hardly protect yourself, your heart wavers from person to person, for someone who knows nothing absolute sacrifice to one person, how cruel would it be loving you? It'd be a nightmare he has no idea how to wake up from. And honest to Merlow," she spits, "I have no idea what he sees in you. Even loving Julius would be better than loving you. What do you have? What good is there in you? What's remotely special about you? The only thing I've observed about you that is remotely particular is your phenomenal lack of pride, but I guess without that, you wouldn't be able to survive as a slave for very long would you?"
My fingernails dig into my palm, and all that I can hear is her voice and a roaring in my ears, "Why don't I deserve love? Why don't I deserve to be loved? Why do I always have to be the one alone?" I yell at her, "I like Ralphus too, but why are you blaming me for all this? It was his choice, it was he who fell in love with me! I didn't force him to do anything." Her face blurs and sharpens, "And if he was truly a fraction like what you said, he would've killed Declan right then and there no matter the circumstance."
"And thank Uhyls he didn't!" Delia shouts, a gold light slamming into my chest, smashing my body into the chair, "If he abandoned his duty as a knight towards Mal, if he killed Declan du Sel without giving a fuck for the consequences, all he'd value would be his love for you. And that," She grabs my shirt, "That would be absolutely terrifying. He'd live entirely off your affection, and if, if for even one second, you reject him, he'd lose his mind completely. At that moment you wouldn't be the one tethering his Shadow, you'd be the one unleashing it. And once that happens, once he loses all rationality, do you think you'd be able to stop him? Do you think that you'd be able to stop him destroying the whole of Mal? In other words," she seethes, "do you think you can kill him?"
I try to grab onto the things that make sense, but everything slips away out of my grasp, out of my control, "Why are you saying this to me now?" My voice rings barely perceptible in my ears.
"Before he sinks in too deep, before it's all too late, I'm going watch you be sold someone far, far away, out of his reach." Her fingers unravel from the distorted fibres, "I'd rather my brother suffer and forget than watch you destroy his life. This is a warning."
Her heels click further and further away.
My mouth opens and closes on its own, "Finally, when I like someone too, why don't I have the right to continue this relationship?"
Delia halts, and her clenched fists unfurl into limp apathy, "Blame yourself for being weak. Blame yourself for being a human. Blame yourself for being a slave, and if it'd make your flimsy human ego feel better, blame Ralphus for being a psycho. I'm telling you to hate him."
Bang.
The door slams shut.