Dastardly Bastard(53)

“You,” Scott finished.





39


DONALD ADAMS SAT ON A bench in Central Park. The day was warm, and a pleasant breeze blew in from the east. It was a happier time, far away from the self-centered monster he’d become.

Sunne sat next to him, her crumbling, decaying form gone. The slash in her throat was still weeks away. It was their second date, the one where she’d kissed him. Donald remembered the feel of her lips on his own, the wanton desire rushing through him, the feeling that he could be lost there, forever and ever, amen.

Sunne glowed. Her black hair simmered in the light of the afternoon, showing purple in areas. Her chocolate eyes shone with life.

“What happen to you, Donald?”

The question hadn’t been there twenty years ago. That was new. Someone was bending his memories. As long as Sunne remained just as she was, right that moment, Donald didn’t mind all that much. Let whatever play with him. Just give him that one moment.

“Bad things I couldn’t control.”

“You were good man.”

“No. I wasn’t. I was worthless.”

“You worth something to me. Worth a lot.” She reached for his hand and her touch warmed him, far better than the cold fingers she had wrapped around his neck. Loads better.

“I let them take you from me.”

She waved her hand in a flippant gesture that took Donald off guard.

“That not what happened, silly man. You know that. You try to save me.”

Donald didn’t want to relive it again, but that didn’t stop the visions from coming back.

The prior memory had been a fallacy. Whoever was playing with him had changed things. He just didn’t know which reality to believe. They both seemed so terribly real. And they both had the same outcome.

Sunne was dead. That was a fact. But maybe, just maybe, Donald hadn’t been so useless. Maybe he had done more. Sure, he had. He’d become the person he was, the cynical lout who scared people for money. When Sunne had come into his life, he hadn’t been that man. Something festered after Sunne died, growing more powerful, feeding on him, hollowing him out.

He had to be sure. He had to know what had really happened.

Donald closed his eyes, “Show me, Sunne.”

He was outside of his body, hovering above the situation as everything unfolded. He watched himself bolt for the alleyway, intent on saving Sunne. The yellow glow of the streetlight running the length of the alley showed Lazy-Eye working at Sunne. The thug was between her legs, tearing clothes, unzipping his pants, grunting like a feral animal.

Donald fought with every bit of his being, beating Lazy-Eye about the back of his head. Meat on meat sounds echoed through the narrow passage. Donald was winning, pulling Lazy-Eye off and away. Sunne was getting up, gathering her torn clothes, trying to cover herself.

“Get back here, midget!” Scar-Lip growled into the cavernous alley. Donald saw the flash of the switchblade, just as his false memory had shown.

Scar-Lip grabbed Sunne by her arm. Twirling her against him, the thug laid the knife against her neck, and jerked away quickly. Flesh opened. Blood spilled. Sunne collapsed, hands going to her wound.

Lazy-Eye wrestled Donald over, crushing him under his weight. Scar-Lip moved in, jabbing with the knife.

Then, the boy at the end of the alley screamed, “Cops!”

Donald crawled to Sunne’s bleeding form. He mumbled gibberish through flowing tears. He tried to close the wound, applying pressure, screaming, “Somebody help. Please help!” There would be no one. The kid had lied about the cops for whatever reason. Maybe he’d just been scared.

More people lived in Manhattan than any other city in the entire United States. But at that moment, in that dark alleyway, Donald and Sunne were alone. Until she, too, left him.

Donald opened his eyes.

“You tried.” Sunne said as she brushed his cheek. “You were brave. You remember that.”

“I miss you. I miss you so goddamn much, Sunne. Everything changed after they took you from me. I was hollow. Empty.” Donald sobbed. He hadn’t wept so hard since that tragic night. He hadn’t let himself. “There’s nothing left in here.” Donald punched his chest directly over his heart. “Nothing!”

“I’m in there. Plenty of room. Such a small man. Such big heart.”

“I don’t want to leave. I want to stay right here. Right inside this memory. Right here with you.” Donald leaned forward, meeting Sunne’s forehead with his own.

She kissed his nose lightly. “You can’t.”

“Why not? Let this… this… whatever it is win. Let it. I don’t care anymore. I just want you back. I’m nothing without you, Sunne. All the money, all the recognition… nothing but a load of bullshit. You’re… you’re all I ever wanted… all I ever needed.”

“You so much more. On the inside. Replace that hole. Fill it with happy memories. We had good ones. Right?”

“Yeah… yes.”

“Remember those. The good ones. I will be there. In them.”

“Don’t go.” Donald ran his fingers through her hair and came away with a clump in his hand.

“Remember the good…” Sunne was coming apart, turning to dust before his eyes.

“No! Damn it! Give her back!”