#forever taking liberties with sam's eyes and adding the different colors that i know are there but only show up in brighter lighting :p | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tpo-akemi · 5 years ago

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Chapter 2: Reflection

There is a reason why people say the dead haunt you forever. The situation I am in is the perfect example for it.

Sam. The friend I thought I lost a decade ago, was now standing right in front of me. There wasn’t anything to debate, it was him. The devilish gleam in his dark eyes gave it right away. It’s hard to forget the eyes that ruined your life.

Back in high school, he was always the adventurous teenager that people liked, whether they were male, female, classmates, parents or teachers. He was a magnet that attracted people naturally, so it was normal for me to get close to him. One thing that people didn’t know about his life was the negative connotation to his adventurous spirit. He always liked to try new things, which got him into trouble. Bit by bit, his adventures walked the thin line of law and morality. Trespassing, destruction of property, and finally, drugs. Nobody beside his mother knew about his dark side, since she was the one using everything in her power to cover up her son’s mistakes. Unfortunately, the drugs came into his life at a time when I was at my biggest low, so he offered to help in his own way. He was the reason I became addicted. The highs were the only thing keeping me from sinking even lower mentally at that time and Sam was the only friend I had. He pulled me down under the water with him, but the problem is that you can only hold your breath for a few seconds.

It was a cold winter night, just three days after my birthday passed, when my mother and I were woken up by loud knocking. It was Sam’s mother, shaking uncontrollably, sobbing so much that I feared she was going to lose all water in her body, and screaming “He is gone! He is gone!” We called the police, but it was too late. Sam’s death certificate said that he had died from a cocaine overdose, but it was all lies, because here he is right now, standing alive and well in front of me.

Sam pulled his mask down without a word and turned to the other members. “Today’s meeting will be postponed. We will meet tomorrow at the same time. Also, Mark, call one of your men to take out the trash.” He pointed his opened palm in the direction of Johnny’s dead body.

“Yes, Master Max.” A rather short man answered to the request from the 6th seat on the left from Sam’s chair. His voice was deep, not something you would expect from someone with such a small figure. He was dressed in a camouflage jacket, buttoned up only so a little sliver of his black shirt from underneath could be seen. On his head was a white mask covered in small white doll hands. Right after he answered he stood up from his seat and gave a deep bow from the waist down before returning back to his chair.

With that, Sam turned on his heel back towards the door he came from and said “Everyone is dismissed.” In union, everybody stood up, bowed and chanted “Power to Simon.”

I watched as the room emptied out slowly, one by one member leaving the conference room. Looks like there was an order in which the members left the room, probably to lower the risk of them finding out who their members are. When the last one left the room, I took a step towards the exit, but was immediately stopped by Sam’s hand wrapping around my forearm. I stopped in my tracks and turned towards him.

“Tomorrow after the meeting, you will be coming with me to my office for some additional interrogation. It’s nothing special, I just want to collect all the necessary information before you begin taking on your role.” He explained and let go of my forearm when he realized I wasn’t going anywhere and had my full attention.

“No problem. There isn’t much to say about my life anyway.” I answered. “Should I make a CV?” I added the joke at the end.

At that Sam took off his mask again, showing the amusement on his face with a smirk and a low chuckle. There was that devilish gleam in his eyes again. God, how I wish I could wipe it off. That way I could at least have some revenge after he ruined my life with drugs.

“There will be no need for a CV Chris. Just make sure you tidy up a bit. You will be showing me your face, and I am a sucker for good first impressions.” He added.

If I didn’t have the mask on, he could easily see the color disappear from my face. I will have to show him how I look like tomorrow. There is no chance of him not recognizing me. Even a decade later, my face structure and hair haven’t changed one bit. The only thing different are the bags under my eyes and the level of messiness of my hair. Who knows what he will do if he finds out that one of his members knows who he really is and his backstory? I gulped down the large lump in my throat and with a slightly shaky voice said that it was not a problem. A pleased smile appeared on his face, showing that he was happy with my answer. Just like with the other members, he turned on his heel and started walking to his own exit.

“You will be getting your official mask tomorrow too, so hold on to that one for one more day. When you exit the building, head right and you’ll find a parking lot . A black car with a chauffeur will be waiting for you and will drive you back home.” He added as he was ascending the stairs. I gave a noise of confirmation that I understood him and headed towards the exit. I could see Sam staring at me from across the room, waiting for me to leave so he could leave too. I took the hint and got out and went down the dimly lit hallway, alone this time.

As promised, there was a black Honda waiting in the parking lot next to the building. My mask was already off so I wouldn’t attract any unwanted attention from people passing by. The main street of the city was always busy. Whether it was people heading home from shifts at work, or teenagers going out to clubs, there was always someone roaming the streets at night. I reached out and opened the car door and quickly entered the car. There was a tall man behind the wheel, the top of his head almost hitting the ceiling of the car. His age was clearly visible on his face, you could see that the wrinkles on his face were there for a while. His hair was jet black with a shine from the gray hairs that started to appear. His eyes had a stern, yet kind glare and above them were a pair of bushy eyebrows that matched his equally bushy mustache.

“Excuse me sir, I believe you are in the wrong car. This is not a taxi, I am a paid chauffeur for someone.” Said the man calmly while turning to face me from his seat. His voice matched his appearance, it was deep and smooth, giving of an aura of safety around him.

“I presume you were Johnny’s driver?” I questioned.

“And I presume that by the tone in your voice and by your question that he is dead.” He replied. I didn’t say anything and after a few seconds he let out a deep sigh and shifted in his seat to face the wheel in front of him.

“Thought so. He was always getting in trouble with Master Max. I knew his sarcastic remarks would one day cross the line.” He added and shook his head. “Where to, Sir?”

“You will leave me at the bottom of the hill where the main church is.” I answered.

“Unfortunately Sir, that won’t be happening. My duty is to drive you home safe from the meeting, leaving you anywhere that isn’t the front of your house is out of question.” He explained.

“Then drive me to Liberty Quarter, the house number is 14.” I unwillingly complied.

The ride was quiet, the only noise coming from the subtle rumbling of the car engine. If the small bumps in the road weren’t rocking the car, I would have fallen asleep. I folded my arm at the elbow and leaned it against the closed window and put my head on top. The traffic lights would periodically splash a little light in the car so the interior would be visible for a few seconds. It was a decent looking car with black leather seats.

The thoughts in my head wandered to all the things Sam said. I will be showing him my face tomorrow and all will end. Sam will find out that his new member knows who he is and will shoot me dead. For some reason it doesn’t bother me. Maybe this shit show of a life will probably be over and I’ll get some peace. No, I can’t think like that, survival instinct Chris, activate it. I have to find a way to make myself unrecognizable to Sam. From what I remember, Sam had a very short fuse when we were teenagers, so there is a high probability of it still being prominent even ten years later. So somehow making an excuse to not take off my mask may make him become angry and shoot me anyway. There will definitely be a weapon for self-defense in that office. I will have to comply to everything he says. Maybe I could make some cuts and bruises on my face? I would need help for that, but the guys around my neighborhood can’t be trusted. Give them a finger and they’ll take the whole arm. I’d be dead in two minutes. I will have to find a way to do it myself. But how? Maybe…

“We are here Sir. I wish you a pleasant evening and night.” The driver broke the silence along with my chain of thoughts. I shook my head as an attempt to get back into reality quicker.

“Yeah, thank you for the ride. Hope you have a nice night too…uhm…”

“…Harrison.” He finished my sentence.

“Harrison, right. Your name really suits you. I’m Chris.” I mumbled.

The tall man shifted in his seat and faced me. He extended his hand and between his bony fingers was a little card. I took it and examined it. There was a series of numbers and underneath was a name. Harrison Duncan.

“This is my phone number, so you can call me when you want me to drive you somewhere, but keep it Simon related. I am not a free taxi. Call me 15 minutes before you need to leave for a meeting and I will be waiting in front of your house and take you to the place you need to be at.” He explained while pointing at me like he is scolding a child. I had to physically stop myself from rolling my eyes at him.

“No problem Harrison. My next meeting is tomorrow at the same time as this one. Can you wait for me here at 21:45? I think 15 minutes will be enough to get back to the building for Simon meetings.” I said.

“That works too.” Harrison added, ending his sentence with a chuckle as to show that he is amused with my answer.

After wishing him good night, I left the car and went towards my house. It could barely be called a house, but it was all I got. Harrison drove off after he saw that I got in my house. I turned on the lights and saw the familiar interior of my living room. Or maybe it is best to call it my bedroom. The room was small, just enough space to put in everything a person needed to live. On the left was a couch with a bundled up blanket on it and a pillow leaning on one of the armrests. Around it was random junk, from empty baggies to ramen cups filled with water and cigarette buds. Opposing the couch was a small TV, outdated and barely working. Left of the couch was a bar stand that divided the living room and kitchen, also covered in useless junk. The kitchen was also standard. Unlike the living room floor that was lined all the way around with a stained gray carpet, the kitchen had a tile floor. In the middle there was a small table, next to it a fridge, alongside with some work surface. Passing the fridge, a bathroom can be found and inside a washing machine, toilet, a dirty tub and a sink with a mirror above it. This dirty place was what I called home.

I sighed deeply and took off my jacket before throwing myself on the couch. I contemplated on if I should change into sleepwear before dosing off, but my body and mind had too much stress this day that they really needed some rest. I took the blanket from underneath me and covered myself with it and was off like a light.

Unfortunately, my slumber was short lived. I woke up screaming from a nightmare. The light was still turned on and it took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the brightness of it. I didn’t remember what the nightmare was about, but I know it had to do something with Sam and death. I glanced at the clock above the TV. It was 4 AM. I continued staring at it while I concentrated on steadying my breathing. When I felt my heart rate slow down I closed my eyes and sagged into the couch with a sigh that quickly turned into a grunt. I raised my hands and covered my face, completely closing myself off from the rest of the world.

I can’t do this. I’m not ready for this kind of pressure. I will slip up at some point I’ll be as good as dead. The thought that the day I slip up is very likely tomorrow, actually today now that midnight passed, alone is making my heartbeat rise quickly. I need to find a way to calm down.

I got up and rushed to the bathroom as quickly as my still half asleep body would let me. Turning on the faucet, I tried to cool down with splashing my face a few times, but to no avail. I can’t wash away my features, I can only make them clearer by getting off the dirt from my face. Can I take them off? Before even questioning my thought process, I started clawing at my cheeks and pulling down my skin as if I was trying to rip it off like a mask. I grunted at the slight sting my fingernails made on my cheeks, my frustration only growing bigger realizing that it isn’t working. I finally came back to my senses and stopped. Splashing my face one last time, I turned off the faucet and grabbed a towel to dry off my face. What I saw in the mirror was a face of a madman. Streaks of redness went down from my eyes down to my jaw, yet I could still recognize the pale man in front of the mirror. No doubt about it. It was me. The jet black, dry hair and the round, foggy, hazel eyes that were staring right back at me. I could still see that it was me, and that means Sam will too. I was not out of danger yet. I need to think of something else. C’mon Chris, think, think! Then an idea popped into my head.

The mirror.

Smash your head into the mirror. It will leave you with bruises and cuts all over you face.

I looked away from my reflection and started pacing around the little bathroom. Is it really worth it? I am genuinely debating if I should smash my head into glass just for the sake of being mutilated. I don’t have anything to treat my wounds if I do go through with it, so there is a possibility of my dying from losing too much blood. But dying after Sam finds out who I am has a 100% chance of ending with me dying. I have to pick the less of two evils.

I stopped in front of the sink again and braced my hands on its sides. I took another glance in the mirror. I was met with an undetermined glare, and with that I knew I was going to chicken out.

“Focus!” I yelled at myself and glanced down at the drain and shook my head. I took a few deep breaths as I tried to make my thoughts shut up. I needed an empty head if I wanted to do this. I started tapping my fingers into the side of the sink, listening to the pleasing clinks of the stone. Clink, clink, clink. Suddenly, it was as if I heard him. The chuckle. That same low chuckle I heard just a few hours ago. Was Sam here? Is he mocking me? Does he think I’m weak? I lifted my head and in the reflection of the mirror I didn’t see myself. My face was swapped with a man in his late twenties, with black eyes and ashy blonde hair. I tapped the sink again.

Chuckle.

Without thinking, I let out an animalistic roar and smashed the mirror with my forehead. It broke on impact and some of the pieces fell into the sink below. Not that I cared. I finally attacked Sam. There he is, I see him stumbling, clearly surprised I actually had the balls to attack him. Serves him right. First he ruins my life, then he makes fun of me? He is looking for a death wish acting like that. I head-butted the mirror again and saw him fall back, but so did I. I wasn’t going to lose this fight this easily. I quickly got up and hit the mirror again, the amount of blood on the glass shards slowly getting larger with every try of an offense. At some point Sam turned into me, but at that point I was too gone to actually care. I got the momentum I needed and I wasn’t planning on losing it anytime soon. My body had different plans. I only got in a couple of more head-butts before my vision blurred from the mix of blood loss and multiple concussions. I tripped over my own feet and fell, hitting the area around my left cheekbone on the edge of the bathtub in the process.

I whined in pain when I finally hit the ground. I could feel the blood trickling down the sides of my face as I lied on the cold bathroom floor. The ringing in my ears was almost unbearable and the pressure in my head only made it worse. My breathing was shaky and no amount of air in my lungs, no matter how much of a deep breath I took. My heart was going a mile a minute, trying to pump blood to make up for the lost blood. My fingers shook and chills went down my spine every few seconds. My eyes were closed so the blood from the wound on my forehead wouldn’t get into them. I don’t know how long I stayed in that position, trying to slowly calm my whole system down. Slowly, my breathing got back to normal along with my heartbeat, and my shakiness and shivers went away. I slowly brought up my hands to wipe away the blood that was threatening to get in my eyes and got myself up into a sitting position.

“So...that happened.” I told myself as I rose from the floor slowly. I could finally see the aftermath. There was blood almost everywhere, a small pool of it on the floor where my head laid, on the walls around the mirror, the mirror itself and in the sink. This will be a bitch to clean up. Then I finally took a look at myself in the mirror, or what was left of it. In one of the shards I saw the reflection of an idiot. There was dried up blood all over my forehead and cheeks, cuts from the glass all over my nose and chin and I noticed a purple eye forming under my left eye. It probably came from the hit against the tub. Even if she tried, my own mother wouldn’t recognize me, which meant my job was done successfully. I reached out and opened the drawer under the sink in hopes of finding something that will actually help me clean my wounds a little bit. Lo and behold, an almost empty pack of anti-bacterial wet wipes was at the bottom of the drawer, along with some duck-tape. I carefully cleaned my wounds, one by one, using one wipe to clean it, and using another as a band aid, securing it with duck-tape to my face. After finishing the treatment, I took a few gulps of water before leaving the bloody bathroom. It is too early for chores; I’ll clean everything up in the morning. My steps were still shaky from the blood loss, but holding on to the wall and nearby furniture, I managed to shuffle up to the couch. I sank into my seat and threw my head back slowly and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes before finally sinking back into my pillow and covering myself with the old blanket. This round of sleeping there were no nightmares.

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