Call of the Crow
GarneacI awake to the sounds of crows screeching, but it’s only Sharon’s laughter.
GarneacOur room is dark and muggy, but I can see her: a shifting smear in the gloom. She stops me from turning on the bedside lamp, crooning in a low voice. I used to like her voice: At one time it was a jingling melody of light; now it’s just noise.
Garneac“How’d you sleep?”
GarneacI murmur some inarticulate response and turn on my side. Away from her.
Garneac“Victor? You’re sweating.” I feel her hand—
Garneachateful and clawed
Garneac—rest on my shoulder. It traces my slick skin, and I shudder, because it feels good. I pull away—and her hand clamps down.
GarneacThere is a beat of nothing as the silence breathes, and then:
Garneac“Do I disgust you?” she asks softly.
GarneacMore than you can ever know, I think to myself.
GarneacThe bed moans as Sharon moves behind me, kicking the comforter, tearing at the soaked bedsheets. Her fury is thick, settling around me like a vice. I grin in the darkness.
Garneac“I’m trying to make this work, Victor. Us. I’m trying to make us work,” she—
Garneacshrieks
Garneac—snaps. “Why don’t you try for once?”
Garneac“Please.”
Garneac“What?”
Garneac“A please might help. It's only polite, you know.”
GarneacHer arm reaches around me to flip on the lamp. Forced to retreat, shadows pool restlessly in the corners.
Garneac“Fine. Will you please try?”
GarneacI turn on my side and stare at her, propping myself up on an elbow. Her eyes plead, but I’m not fooled: They are moody gems set in a face lined with malice. I’m surprised to find I still enjoy her corrosive beauty.
Garneac“I don’t want to try anymore, Sharon.”
GarneacHer eyes flash—
Garneacsomething vicious crawls behind them
Garneac—and she says: “After all I’ve given you—you don’t even thank me for anything—”
Garneac“Really? Well, thanks for the burn in my crotch—”
Garneac“After all I’ve given you!” she screams. Spit flies from her wide, stretched lips. She moves to hit me—
Garneac—and I grab her by the throat.
Garneac“If you ever try that again, I’ll hurt you. So help me God, woman, I’ll break you. Got it?”
GarneacMy voice is cold and soft—and I’m surprised, because I like it that way.
