Razor Ch. 06

I nodded and looked at her, noticing her pale tiredness, dark circles around her eyes and the general tightness to her facial expression. I also saw a pair of swollen lips, the lower one with a nasty split in it.

"What's happened to your mount?" I blurted out, feeling a sharp sense of protectiveness that had no business running around in my calm, absolutely set on staying distanced self.

"I had an argument with an old friend that I'd thought I'd lost," she answered with a small smile "and now it seems we're friends again, so I think it was well worth it. I won't be eating lemons for a while, but that's about it."

She looked at me, shook her head as if she was trying to clear her mind and then exhaled loudly.

"You don't need to be afraid, you know..." she whispered "I have no more secrets that involve you or your family. And I'm not here to give you any advice on how to run your life. Today I'm here for selfish reasons only, because I need to tell someone the rest of it, I need to come to terms with my past and prepare for my future, however much of a cliché that sounds like."

I nodded to make her see she could continue whenever she wanted to. She leaned back in her chair and let her eyes sweep my room, then she shook herself and looked at me, just shortly before she closed her eyes.

"Let's start with my senses then," she whispered softly "my so called super powers, not that I'd ever use that expression myself. I see, hear, smell and feel things more strongly than most people. Usually it's just things connected to other people, like I'm constantly trying to keep track of what everyone's doing, thinking and even feeling. I don't have the ability to see if a chair has been moved a few inches to the left since the last time I saw it, and I'm sincerely happy that my mind isn't constantly occupied with those types of insignificant measurements and calculations because, frankly, that would have driven me crazy years ago. When my senses are temporarily sharpened as they are right now however, I start noticing patterns and irregularities even more than I usually do and I come too close to that crazy land. It's absolutely exhausting trying to sort the important bits and pieces of information from the unimportant ones."

She looked down at her hands and then up at me.

"For instance, you've reorganized your bookshelf since the last time I was here." she told me with a voice completely devoid of feelings "Where you used to have all your books sorted by size, or rather by height, you've now decided to place them in an alphabetical order, sorted by titles, not authors, which is interesting... and... the fourteenth and fifteenth book on the second shelf should change places..."

I stared at her, wide eyes, mouth open, completely stunned by what she had said. Surely not?

"Do you understand the challenge of walking around every day with your head being filled with too much information?" she asked with lifted eyebrows "With every breath you take, every move you make... yeah, you get picture?"

I nodded, not sure I would ever be able to really understand what she meant, but at least I could understand parts of it, the challenge of sorting the important sensory information from the unimportant.

"I'm sure you're now thinking, if you haven't already thought it, that I probably have some sort of autism spectrum disorder, and that's probably as close to a diagnose as I'll ever get." she continued, still talking very softly "I'm in parts very high functioning, but I've also had to work very hard to find my place in the world, especially when it comes to rules, norms and accepted social behavior. And hiding from the world, sealing myself off from everyone is sometimes very tempting. In this day and age when you can order everything you need online, there's really no need to go outdoors and meet people. But sitting indoors, without real human interactions, it is, as I told you before, devastating for your wellbeing. And in my case, I eventually grow bored and restless."

I nodded again, pretty sure that she had the right notion about a possible neurodevelopmental disorder. It would explain a few of her special traits and abilities.

"Society isn't really built to handle special people with special needs, and some parts are worse than others, school for instance. School is mostly about conforming and fitting in, and it takes a really good teacher to be able to reach and enthuse everyone." she said, her voice a bit stronger "Perhaps I was lucky that I had a reason to do well in school, that I had an inner drive pushing me to do my absolute best, because my teachers were not of part of the enthusiastic crowd. So in some ways I suppose I should be thankful for my father's lack of interest in me and the way I eagerly tried to convince him of my worthiness...?"

I shook my head; no child should ever have to fight that hard for his or her parents' attention. She smiled at me and then turned her eyes down to stare at the floor in front of her.

"And after my homeless stint I decided to keep going, because I had a plan that was both simple and complex. I was going to make a lot of money and I was going to use that money to make the world a better place." she said a bit roughly "I didn't know exactly how to make a lot of money, but I figured that a good education was a good start."

I could almost feel her decisiveness in the air, and I felt a short moment of admiration for her before I checked myself and tried to regain a passive stance once more.

"I don't know why it is, but it seems that special people sort of gravitate towards each other, at least that's my experience. I suppose hanging around the computer rooms in school a bit too much will insure that you meet special people though, since studies show that there's a disproportionate amount of ASD-people that work with computers and software development..." she said with a short laugh "And sure enough, I met and befriended a very gifted computer wizard who helped me see the beauty of programs and taught me the pleasures of writing code. It really was a match made in heaven... me and programming that is. Well, me and Samuel was a pretty good fit too, our brains were synchronized in a way I didn't think possible."

She looked at me and smiled a wide smile, her eyes suddenly full of laughter.

"Those were really good times," she said "and we created a lot of really cool things, just for our own amusement. But that was before I realized that I had found the thing that had the potential to make us very rich..."

She looked at me and worried her lower lip slightly, and I realized she was about to tell me something she was uncomfortable with or afraid of revealing.

"The thing is..." she said "to be able to become rich you almost always have to have a startup capital, and in our case we needed computers, software and a few other things to be able to build something worth selling. And we couldn't find anyone interested in funding our first trembling attempts, so I had to find other ways of providing what we needed..."

She twisted in her seat, even more uncomfortable than before.

"I suppose I need to back up a bit for you to really get the full picture..." she said in a whisper "Despite the fact that I wasn't quite 'fluent' in the language of social interactions I was perfectly aware of the signs of attraction that people display so openly all the time; everything from lips being licked and hair being tossed to smaller facial signs, eyes widening slightly, a pinker than usual skin tone and so on. And as I grew into my curves, I started seeing those signs when people looked at me. Strange, computer-nerdy me, attractive? It was at first pretty hilarious, but as time passed it grew more and more exhilarating, it even gave me a sense of empowerment, the way a flirty smile could cause all sorts of reactions..."

She looked me straight in the eyes and continued.

"I didn't start having sex until I was eighteen, but once I started I just couldn't get enough of it. If you remove all of the moral surrounding the act of making love or whatever you'd call it, the simple fact is that it's both really pleasurable and good for your general sense of wellbeing. Perhaps a 'normal' person would have been able to realize that too many sexual experiences would have you classed as the school whore, but I just didn't see it that way, I still have a hard time understanding why you'd have to make up rules to restrain something that's just... good for you? And yeah, I will never be able understand why it's okay for men to sleep around, that it's a proof of their masculinity, but that it's not okay for women to do the same, because then they're classed as whores; it's just not logical..."

She pulled her eyes away from mine to stare once more at the bookshelf, her eyes blank and her sight probably turned inwards, contemplating what she was telling me. I kept myself carefully blank and struggled to push back a lot of thoughts and feelings that were unwanted and unneeded.

"My issue's got issues and my baggage's got baggage, but long story short..." she said slowly "once I realized the power I held in my hands, I used my body and my curves to get the money we needed as a startup capital. I've been an escort, an exotic dancer, a mistress, a whore and a porn star. I basically have been there and done that, in the true sense of the word and I think it's safe to say that I'm firmly and permanently placed on the list of sinners that all religions seem to have in one way or the other. And I can't even say that I regret it, because we used that money in the best way possible. I regret what came later... but I shouldn't jump ahead..."

She sighed and settled back in the chair, and I got a feeling that the upsetting part of our talk was over. I sincerely hoped she wouldn't talk about sins and sex anymore, because her dry listing of her many immoral roles had thoroughly upset me.

"My computer wizard friend never knew where the money came from, he never even asked, but his eyes were almost always glued to the screen in front of him, and his thoughts were almost always stuck in complex designs or programming issues." she said, her voice soft but tired "We managed to create a few simple smartphone games that became instant successes and made enough money to move away from our homes, which meant we could work almost non-stop with our biggest project, a not so simple game. The more complex game was designed to work on almost all platforms and when we launched our beta version it was also an instant success and we knew we had a winner. But just before the money started rolling in we were both in a car crash where my friend sustained injuries that put him in a wheelchair, and I was the driver who feel asleep and made the crash happen. Our friendship didn't survive the crash, and we parted ways..."

I looked at her and saw her pale face grow slightly pink as she looked up at me and smiled.

"Actually, I've just recently found out that it wasn't the crash that killed our friendship, but my revelations that I'd been taking pills to keep awake. He couldn't stand to see me destroy myself with drugs it seems..." she said "and yes that's another declaration of my absolute sinfulness...

She stood up and walked up to my window, her hands held in tight fists. I realized that she was about to shock me with something worse and I held my breath as she turned around towards me.

"As my friendship with Samuel, my computer nerd friend, broke apart I broke apart too. And I continued destructively using my body to make money that I used to buy drugs. I wouldn't touch the money we made for our games, and I suppose I should be thankful for that, because we made a lot of money and fast." she said with a rough voice "And it was during that period that I realized that I could use alcohol and drugs to dull my senses. I didn't need to walk around seeing and feeling everything, I'd finally found a way to be able to relate to people in an almost normal way. Except for being drunk or otherwise drugged all the time, but hey, I considered that an acceptable side effect. Hurray for self-medication, right?"

She shook her head and laughed a small, bitter laugh.

"I told you that I'd been a porn star, and that was one of the stupid things that I agreed to do back then." she said with that emotionless voice again "I'm thankful for the heavy makeup, the black wig and the blue contact lenses they made me wear, because I'm happy to say I'm almost never recognized. I avoid wearing formfitting clothes, mostly because I don't feel comfortable in them, but also because I'm worried that I'll be recognized by someone with an above average perception. Being who I am, knowing what I do about above average human abilities I feel it's safer that way."

She leaned her head backwards and stretched her neck and I couldn't help looking at her baggy clothes trying to envision curves that was striking enough for people to remember at least ten years after the film or films had been made. She looked back at me and smiled with a lifted eyebrow. She sighed and looked down at the floor.

"It wasn't a very good period in my life..." she said, her voice filled with a deep sadness "I felt pretty lost and I had a constantly growing pain inside of me. No matter what I did, no matter how many parties I went to, no matter how many new people I met, I couldn't quite shake the feeling of loneliness and of always being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

She looked up at me again and after a moment of silence she started singing, slowly and softly.

"When your day is long

And the night, the night is yours alone

When you're sure you've had enough

Of this life, well hang on

Don't let yourself go

Cause everybody cries

And everybody hurts... sometimes

When your day is night alone

If you feel like letting go, hold on

If you think you've had too much

Of this life, well hang on

Everybody hurts

Take comfort in your friends

Everybody hurts...

If you're on your own, in this life

The days and nights are long

When you think you've had too much

Of this life, to hang on

Well, everybody hurts

Sometimes everybody cries

Everybody hurts... sometimes

So hold on, hold on

Everybody hurts... sometimes"

She walked back and let herself fall down into the chair once more.

"As you already know, I had already found that pure physical pain was a good remedy against mental and emotional pain, I had also found that there was a ready supply of people who would gladly afflict pain on others. Instead of cutting my arms, I just had to put myself in their hands." she whispered "The movies I had made were in the BDSM category, and I played a warrior queen like character who liked dominating all men. Needless to say, there was a lot of people interested in trying to dominate the ultimate dominatrix."

She hid her face in her hands and took a heavy, frustrated breath.

"There are a lot of big men and women out there, people with natural leader skills, with a need to always feel in control, where dominance isn't just a word used for playful sexual games, but what they need, live and breathe every second of the day." she continued "And one of those big leaders of our society decided that he wanted to prove himself by turning the fierce warrior queen into an obedient slave, which, if I'm really honest wasn't as big a challenge as he would have most people think. As I've already told you, I have a history of bending myself into a tiny pretzel to try to please the people around me."

She scrunched her face up and looked at me and my carefully blank face before she continued once more.

"To tell you the truth, the life of a slave isn't such a bad one, if you have a master who cares for you at least a little, and I'm very, very good at following instructions. Hell, since I can even read the instructions before they're spoken, I'm about as close to the perfect slave as you're likely to get." she said with a self-deprecating laugh "But I'm sure you can imagine the cred he got for taming my wildness."

I saw her remove her shoes and pull her legs up into the chair, her arms wrapping around the tiny ball she made of herself. That was not a good sign, I managed to think before she continued.

"But there's always a bigger shark out there, someone who wants to prove himself by, as I said, dominating the dominator." she whispered "And through blackmail, there was obviously some pictures and transactions that my master didn't want the public to be aware of, I was put in the hands of two not especially gentle masters."

She put her face against her knees and exhaled slowly.

"I have never told anyone about that experience, and I don't think I'll ever be able to describe the pain and the horror that followed." she whispered, her words wobbly and insecure "But perhaps you can imagine some of it if I tell you that I was released back to my old master after two weeks, naked, bruised and bloody. I couldn't walk and I couldn't talk, and my body was covered in cuts that were, and I quote, 'the perfect complement to my scarred arms, courtesy of a true artist'..."

My face was probably no longer carefully blank, and I was glad that she didn't look at me. I was shocked, nauseous and thrown into a loop of questions that I couldn't find answers to. I just couldn't understand why men took such pleasure in hurting women. Or the other way around for that matter. What the hell was wrong with people?

"I was given the best possible care, and the wounds on the outside slowly healed." she said, exhaling softly "I suspect that the wounds on the inside never quite will. I never, ever laugh when people use the 'what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger' expression though, because yeah, living proof and all that..."

She stood up and walked away, this time straight up to the bookshelf where she carefully moved one book in front of another, probably the fifteenth book being carefully tucked into its rightful place. I blocked the strange, hysterical laughter that came to me then. How could she even remotely care about the order of my books after what she had told me?

"The two persons who were responsible for my injuries died in a suspicious fire a few weeks later, I was told by my smiling master just before he told me he would have to let me go, because he couldn't stand to look at me anymore." she said, her voice surprisingly dry "And I was taken back to my tiny flat, where I could stand, sit or lie and contemplate my many sins. And the many sins of others. I didn't sleep, eat or drink, and I was probably pretty close to complete dehydration when I got a call from one of my friends, Rose, who told me she had been woken by a strange dream. She wanted to know if I was alright, because the dream had made her worry about me."

She walked back to her chair again and sat down with a heavy sigh.

"Even though my logical side has a hard time believing that there's something 'more' out there, I have been given enough evidence that there are some crazy, weird, mystical things going on in the world." she said softly "I know mankind's weakness of trying to find spiritual answers where no logic can be found, but still, my friend dreaming that I died after being sucked down into a dark, black sinkhole, it's too close to the way I was feeling on the inside to be a real coincidence..."

She shrugged and looked me in the eyes with a challenge written on her face. Did she want me to tell her that she was wrong? That spiritual connections and finding messages and truths in your dreams was just a figment of her overactive imagination? She'd be pretty disappointed if I told her what I really believed then. I shook my head and she pulled her green eyes away from me.