Love's Wicked Craft Ch. 04

Cat rose back to standing and pocketed her knife. It will be a pleasure to take you in, decided Cat, eyeing her new friend, sending it her thoughts, twiddling the thing between her fingers and caressing its gradual, sumptuously curved length. Oh yeah, you'll be much better than Frank ever was. Cat wandered slowly, aimlessly, through the garden, taking idle steps as she considered her prize. Hmm, maybe I should give Brusso a call. Hell, I've got nothing to lose. What could she say? No thanks? That's fine. It's cool. No worries. I've got this nice, big, hard...

Then it seemed to Cat that the next three seconds took forever. There was the gleaming aubergine before her eyes and the distant green around it. Then there was the green that had grown greener, and then the reddish brown of dry soil. Then, across the seconds, a low mound of soil, a tape measure --What the fuck?- a shovel lain across her path, , split, sliced, diced, time became suspended as a great shadow opened and a cut to black rose up to Cat and slammed itself against her.

Shocked silent, the next thing Cat understood was the earth she was spitting out of her mouth. After that, she quickly rolled onto her back, squinted up at the sky and realized the depth of the hole she'd fallen into. Then, moving gingerly to determine how bad she might have hurt herself, and realizing suddenly that the limbs under her probing fingers were not her limbs, she suddenly screamed bloody murder as she wildly scrambled away to the opposite side of the pit.

Dressed in a pair of work boots and a little pink party dress, Hannah's body had been as still as death. But, in the very instant that Cat's horrified scream began, Hannah rose immediately to life, and then too began to scream and franticly crawl into a corner. Together Cat and Hannah, shrieked, shuddered, gasped and cried until Cat realized that Hannah's frightened howling had become hysterical laughter. Ultimately, as Hannah's hilarity rose to its climax and began its dissolution, Cat's crying relented and her heart gradually slowed to a somewhat more settled beat. God damn your autism Hannah.

"What the fuck," Cat intoned, her words measured, "are you doing?"

"I was," Hannah replied, smiling cautiously, "I was just, looking for the stars!"

"Looking for, the stars!?!"

"Well, yeah! Remember, I told you? You can see the night sky by day if you look up at the sky from the bottom of a well?"

"Yes, actually, how could I forget?" Cat answered as she started to brush soil from herself, "You reminded me of that odd fact many times. However Hannah, this, is fucking creepy!"

"Creepy? How?"

Cat paused mid-stroke, looked astonishingly at Hannah and said:

"Hannah, this isn't a fucking well! You dug a grave!"

Hannah looked around. Cat watched her and thought to herself: Oh my God, I am not ready for this.

"Oh, yeah, huh?" Hannah replied, shrugging, "Well, it worked though!"

Looking away, Cat resumed brushing the soil from her legs and, with her most dripping sarcasm, said:

"Really?"

"Yeah really. Come and check it out!"

Again, Cat stopped to regard Hannah with a look of consternation, wagged her head, and then went back to cleaning herself off. Distantly, she became aware that Hannah, quite soil ridden herself, had commenced to do the same. Then, after a time, Cat heard the flick of a lighter, and then smelled the smoke of a smoldering cigarette. Cat wanted to tell Hannah what she was thinking, that she should just put the thing out since it was only killing them both. Then again, ha, you've driven us into an early grave anyway, ha ha ha. No. No, this is not funny, not at all.

Cat's brain began to pulse and throb as if it realized that in order to cope with the situation and manage the tornado raging through her junkyard of thoughts, it had to draw more blood from the rest of her body. She had no idea what she wanted to say, what she should say or how to feel or what exactly to worry about now. The woman had dug a grave, for Christ's sake. What the hell is that about?

Cat did know that she needed to calm herself down, way down. She didn't want to be too angry or say anything that would enflame the situation. God knows Hannah's ASD always made it important for Cat to cool down quick because Hannah needed at least one person outside of herself to remain level headed in case the autism got her really going.

Presently, Cat had realized that Hannah had been staring at her. Was it the same old Hannah studying her or was it Chase's Frankenstein Hannah? Cat sighed, and then, pausing from brushing her dirty body, she looked up to meet the other's gaze.

"What?" asked Cat as she prepared to get on her feet?

Still smoking, knees brought up close to her chest, her head tilted, her eyes alert and openly appraising, Hannah shrugged and asked:

"Leaving so soon?"

Cat eyed her back as she rose to her full height and slapped her soiled hands against the sides of her shorts. With her own cool sobriety she studied Hannah in return and thought she looked like some porno queen crack head circus hobo. Seeming more pathetic then much else, Cat didn't need to suppress any laughter. I don't know, she thought. She seems, okay, for her anyway.

"Maybe." Cat answered, "If I'm not stuck here. I don't recall seeing a ladder as I plummeted into this, grave."

Hannah raised an eye brow, put her cigarette out against a small rock, and then gave Cat a sidelong glance before stating:

"I don't own a ladder."

"Well," Cat intoned as she turned to face the sheer wall's topmost edge, "then you shouldn't have dug the fucking hole in the first place."

So much for keeping that anger in check.

"Whatever Cat." Hannah sighed, "And anyway, when did you become little Ms. Sassy Cuss Bucket?"

Cat didn't answer. She only stood there, with her back to Hannah, her fists at her hips, evaluating the wall for any protrusions or nooks she could exploit for climbing. Then, as Cat raised her right foot to test the viability of a particular stone's support, Hannah called from behind her:

"Hey don't forget your eggplant."

Cat paused, looked over her left shoulder, saw Hannah casually swinging her key ring around her finger, but did not see the eggplant. Then, Hannah pointed diagonally to her left and directed Cat's gaze to where the thing lay inert and incongruous. Cat glanced at the thing, and then met Hannah's eyes again.

"That's the Japanese kind, right? You came to pick a Japanese eggplant?" Hannah asked.

"Hello, I came to pick a few of them, and a few other things too. It's obvious you haven't been around to take care of this garden. But let's not avoid what really needs to be discussed. Hannah, why the hell are you laying at the bottom of a grave you've dug in the middle of your backyard, wearing a little pink party dress?"

Hannah gave a small smile as Cat realized the blush that was surely appearing in her cheeks and neck.

"You're planning on fucking yourself with that thing, aren't you?"

Cat deftly swooped down and grabbed the object, and then folded her arms, sighed and began to swing the eggplant by its tapered end.

"Sure Hannah, "Cat sang, smiling arrogantly "yes, totally, as soon as I get home."

"Oh, so the truth comes out."

"Yeah, sure Hannah. It's the truth. Or, I could be lying, humoring you. Maybe I came to pick a whole bunch of vegetables you've obviously been neglecting. Whatever. If you want it to be true, then believe it. Whatever. Right? That's what we do, turn what fucking ever we want into the truth!"

Hannah thoughtfully eyed Cat and asked:

"Hmm, what about Frank?"

"Frank left. Hannah, for Christ's sake, what the fuck are you doing laying around in the bottom?

Of a fucking six foot hole you dug in the middle of your fucking back yard, dressed in a little pink, fucking, party dress?"

"Jeez Pussy Cat, quit it with your dirty mouth already, would you? God, Chase left. I mean, Chase, told me to hit the road."

"And so, she's worth dying for, so you were just gonna' let yourself bake to death and I was supposed to eventually come over to pick some vegetables and get around to burying your sorry ass."

"No, you were supposed to go home and do yourself with that eggplant first, and then come back and bury my sorry ass. How long ago did Frank leave and by the way, you look, amazing. What have you been up to?"

Cat paused, her expression vacillating between frustration, reticence and pride. Then she announced:

"I've been, working out."

Hannah raised an eye brow, smirked oddly and asked:

"Really? Is that all?"

Souring again, glowering, Cat shouted:

"No, I've been dieting too. Hannah, what the fuck! You dug a fucking grave in your back yard asshole! What is fucking wrong with you?"

"Hey, I'm not telling you again!" Hannah shouted in return, "You need to cut it out! Stop talking to me that way, right now!"

Cat said nothing as she reddened and began to stare at her filthy track shoes. Then, decision changing her expression, she raised her head again and said:

"Fuck you."

With that, she threw the eggplant at Hannah, and then resumed her attempt to scale the wall.

3

Hannah caught the thing mid-flight and set it down beside her. Dejected, privately simmering in her own frustration, she took her eyes from Cat to stare down at her filthy legs and soil caked Timberlands. She began to reflect on how she had arrived at her current predicament.

Hannah had spent the night before taking great effort to not think about anything but her six foot deep ambition, her anger and sadness fueling all the will and energy to execute the task. It was finally only then, just a few moments before, upon her informing Cat of the break up, that Hannah's last memories of Chase, and how she'd left her, came rushing back.

Hannah had succumbed to whatever Chase had done to her, there on her hallway floor. Then, passed out, gone, lost in the dead world of sleep, dead was where Hannah thought she'd stay. But, she hadn't stayed. She verged into the twilight of waking, wandering through her dreams, of body's, masks, clown faces, coils of rope, tight rope walking, falling, rushing darkness, liquid becoming solid, intact enough to contemplate and appreciate the feeling of death long enough to realize that she was actually alive.

So, from her sleep, Hannah awoke, her head splitting, the straight jacket gone, still dressed as Baby Doll, finding herself on a made bed she'd hadn't slept in for months, seeing Mrs. Skitters staring back at her from her usual corner of the bed. Remembering, choking on the memories like she'd choked inside Chase's arms, Hannah covered her mouth with both hands, sprang from the bed, ran into the bathroom, and then spewed bile into the toilet.

Empty of sick, she'd washed her face. Looking into the mirror threatened to make her sick again, so Hannah stopped. It was then the anxiety hit her, filled her, emptying itself, down from her heart and roiling up from the pit of her gut. Her heart pounding, Hannah ran into the kitchen, opened a fresh can of food for Mrs. Skitters, and then sprinted to her litter box and changed it out.

That done, Hannah had stared around the living room for a moment, her head swinging, her body twitching, her heart about to burst from her chest, her mind completely befuddled. She needed to act, to do something. She wanted to go to Chase's, but she totally fucked that up, so there was no chance of that. Hannah brought her hands together and began to rhythmically count off her knuckles, 1 2 3 4, 4 3 2 1, 1 2 3 4, 4 3 2 1.

Suddenly she bolted down the hall, opened the attic hatch, scampered up the ladder, and then brought down a very hefty bundle. Panting, she dragged it into her bedroom, withdrew the bundle's contents onto the bed, and then proceeded to wrap herself up in the weighted blanket the special education department at her high school had donated to her. Then came the mantras, also from high school, but more specifically, from Mrs. Barns, what to remind herself of, as many times as it took, to calm down and understand that everything was going to be okay.

I am how I feel. I feel how I am. There is a world inside of me. There is a world outside of me. People will forget my mistakes. I don't have to keep remembering my mistakes. I can be a good person. There will always be good people. I can be good for people. People can be good for me. I am how I feel. I feel how I am. There is a world inside of me. There is a world outside of me. People will forget my mistakes. I don't have to keep remembering my mistakes. I can be a good person. There will always be good people. I can be good for people. People can be good for me.

Hannah had awoke an hour later, understanding, somewhat relaxed, with an appetite, but still very, very sad. With the understanding came an idea, something constructive to do, something symbolic and that could, technically, be undone, like a house of cards or a sand castle on the beach. So, after killing a whole box of Ring Dings and a pot of coffee, Hannah found her tape measure, found a shovel in the garage, found her Tims, Net browsed the dimensions of the standard grave, and then set out for the back yard to get it dug.

Around seven that evening, she'd returned to the house for a potty break and a flash light, and then again around three in the morning to lock the back door because, based on the digging that still had to be done, Hannah knew she'd be passing out once she'd, well, hit rock bottom.

Hannah glanced at Cat, then peered back down at the keys in her hand. I can be a good person, she thought. There will always be good people. Cat's right. That's what we do. We turn whatever we want to believe into a truth for ourselves. Again, she studied Cat, who wasn't making any progress at all, other than getting herself even dirtier. I'm such an idiot. She's always been good to me. I'm glad that she's here. Am I supposed to tell her that? Then, seconds later, sighing, Hannah said:

"I'm, sorry Cat. I'm really sorry. Don't be angry with me anymore. Don't hate me, please?"

Hannah continued to watch Cat trying to run up the far wall of the pit. It was obvious that there were no viable foot holds and that the next logical thing to do was build a means of essentially shortening the distance to the edge, so Cat was basically digging out the bottom of the wall, working up a great muddy sweat in the process. Gradually, she came to a stop and, after panting for a time, turned around to regard Hannah.

"Me too." She said, "I'm, I'm sorry too."

Then, with a deep breath and a nod, Hannah scooted out of her corner, stretched herself out, poised herself into a funereal posture and directed her gaze skyward. Cat looked on incredulously, turned to regard the meager mound she'd made, and then faced Hannah once more.

"We need to get out of here." said Cat, urgency in her voice.

"We will." Answered Hannah without the slightest hint of apprehension, "Come, and take a break. Look up at the stars with me."

Cat stared as Hannah wriggled to her left, and then pat the open space of ground beside her. Again, Cat glowered, then let her gaze bounce from Hannah, to her pile of soil, to the four walls around them, and then back to Hannah.

"God Hannah," Cat said as she sat beside her friend, and then lay down beside her, "this is totally ridiculous."

A silence grew between them. Hannah turned to watch Cat's expression as she searched the bright blue noon day sky for stars. Then, after Cat had learned her head this way or that and squinted her eyes, she turned to Hannah and announced:

"You are fuck- I mean, bleeping whack. There aren't any stars up there."

Smiling, Hannah answered:

"Yeah, I know. I lied."

Cat regarded her and sighed.

"Well, it doesn't seem like you changed much."

"Hmm, maybe not. Hannah replied, wiping a crumb of dirt from the corner of her eye, "But, you certainly have. What happened to you?"

"I told you! I gave Frank the boot. Then I started working out and dieting."

"No Cat, seriously. There's more. What did Frank do to you?"

"Nothing more than the usual day in and day out degradation. No, it was me. I guess I, just about had it?"

They remained transfixed by each other for a short moment, until Cat resumed peering into the sky above.

"I had a, momentary lapse of reason, "she continued, "that allowed me to see. The reason in things. How about you? What happened with your, mistress?"

Hannah let her gaze linger a little more on Cat's profile before finally turning her own eyes on the clear blue sky overhead. Regret roiled in her gut. Dominate, repudiate, degradation, desecrate, less fat, tastes great. Her hands still clasped over her belly, Hannah began to count her knuckles, 1 2 3 4, 4 3 2 1, 1 2 3 4, 4 3 2 1.

"She, was too much for me." Hannah admitted, "I was, I am, definitely not in her league and, and as fun as she was, everything about her, everything she was and did and wanted done was like this explosive wave, all sensuous and powerful. And I, I wanted to, well, have my own power too. But, I didn't know what I was doing, and she ended up hating me for trying to be more than I would ever amount to be."

Hannah took a deep breath, and then a fresh silence fell. In it, she could hear her stomach growling and imagined that there was a little stomach monster that found her bad Chase tummy feelings and was gobbling them all up. I know she'll forget me. I just want to feel better faster, like, right now. Suddenly, she turned to see that Cat had been staring at her, her expression a soft, pensive combination of sadness and perhaps affection, though for the life of Hannah she couldn't hazard why. Whatever it was, it made Hannah feel shy and ashamed, and so she had to look away.

"But," she continued, "It's okay because, she's a total psycho. I mean, I don't know, for me, to be a part of the scenes and stuff, its just, intense. Scening, Chase's scening, just, sucks the life right out of you. Sex, was a lot of work, with her. I, I don't think, even as extreme and focused as I can be, could live the rest of my life, well, living that way."

"Did you, love her?" Cat asked.

Hannah paused, considering as she felt a cool, slimy wriggling by her elbow. Sitting up, she looked at the area where her left elbow had been, and then gently plucked a worm from the spot. Studying it, running her fingers along its ridges, she said:

"You know, we've talked about that word before."

Glancing at her friend, Hannah began to gently stroke the creature wriggling in her palm.

"Yes," Cat affirmed, now also sitting up, "we talked about it a lot. Do you remember?"

"I remember that you talked about it a lot. I just patiently listened and tried to understand."

"Hmm. And so, do you think you fell in love with Chase?"

"Does it matter anymore?"

"Do you feel hurt?

"Would you like a pet worm?"

"No. I'm sorry that you hurt."

Hannah met her gaze. Her eyes till held that expression, exhibited those feelings, feelings that had grown behind Hannah's own eyes, feelings she knew the names for but couldn't name, making her skin tingle under the dirt caked all over her, inside the heart that started to pump a little harder again, making her realize the red that had come into her cheeks and made her want to say:

"Experiments show that male rhesus macaque monkeys will pay to look at pictures of female rhesus macaque monkey's bottoms."

Cat smirked, and then wagged her head slowly.

"That's great." She said, sighing, "I really need to get out of here and take a shower. If I boost you up, can you find me something I could stand on, so I could get better leverage? "

"I think I have some five gallon pails in the garage. " Hannah answered as she regarded the worm slipping between her fingers, "He's cute. I think I'll call him, Spaghetti Boy."