God-less

There was a time when I thought I could be healed, that having faith was all I needed for a different tomorrow, one not tormented by the voices in my head. But there is no entity hiding away in the ever-expanding universe, no dark matter or dark energy under the spell of an otherworldly being worshipped far and wide in this shithole called the Earth. Because no sovereign entity would watch the innocent suffer at the hands of dirty old men, no compassionate being would see the sun set only for darkness to rise instead, and no god would set his creations on fire just to test them – for such god, if it did exist – would have no need to test, no reason not to be compassionate, not be a mere witness in the face of abuse. 

But it had not always been like this. I too once believed; wanted to believe. 

Not anymore. 

When I lost my faith and everything I thought would hold fell apart right before me, I did not expect the feelings I suppressed so long would resurface from the darkness. That unsatiable hunger. But it was not greed I wanted to feed on nor was it money and fame. It was— 

I stopped mid-action, my hands hovering over the keyboards, not able to continue. 

All sorts of thoughts washed over me then, thoughts I dared not say aloud, scared witless they might become reality once I let them take space and consume me from within. But I was not ashamed. I did not choose this path laid out before me. It... chose me. 

My first encounter with my hunger, or rather, the very first time I realised I was different from other people, was at my aunt's funeral fifteen years ago. 

To this day, in this very moment, I could still remember the time I held her stiff hand tightly for the first time, bidding farewell. But it was not hunger then what I felt. It was sadness. My aunt brought me up as her own when my birth mother abandoned me, taking me in not as a pitiful orphan in need of shelter, but as someone she genuinely thought of as her nearest kin. She never once raised her voice at me, never once talked ill of her own selfish sister who ran away with a junkie and left her with such heavy burden. 

You see, raising a child, especially one that is not your own, is not an easy feat. I know this well now that I am the same age she took me in and saved me. She suffered. Even during the happiest moments of our intertwined lives, she was weighed down by my existence and could never truly be free. To save my worthless life amounting to nothing, she turned her back to her fiancé, to a great title at a multinational corporation in the capital. And, after all these sacrifices, she did not even get her money's worth, passing away prematurely just to bring food to the table and sustain me at a time when I was the most rebellious. If there was one thing I regretted, it was that phase of my life, and no matter what I did, I could not turn back the clock and make things right. 

I did not interact with many people growing up and the few people who knew me outside of professional settings were the ones I knew from my childhood. I did not make new friends; neither did I ever fall in love. Everyone around me said I had not found “the one” and I chose to believe in those meaningless words, though I knew what I was, what I had become unbeknownst to myself. That was why I pushed away everyone who ever showed me interest, be it men or women, for I knew pretending would only take me to a certain point, and by then, I had to face my demons. 

"You're still at it?" Denver said, leaning over me from behind and resting her head against my shoulder. "I thought you said you had sent it out already." 

I folded the laptop close before she could take a proper look. 

"I did," I said, already up and starting for the hallway. "I'm working on something new." 

"Really? That was quick." Denver said, rushing to catch with me as I started for the front door. "No wonder people at the agency call you a beast. So, what's the genre? Another thriller? The last one was a hit, after all." 

"This one—" I said, packing my laptop in the backpack, before turning to face her. "—is a secret. You'll know what it's about at the same time as everyone else." 

"Come on! You've always told me about your scripts beforehand." 

"I know," I replied, slinging the backpack over my shoulders and cracking the door open. "But what to do? I'm afraid this piece is too personal for me to reveal. Just yet, that is." 

"Personal? How so?" 

I looked away briefly, the door opening up to the twelfth-floor landing, the lightbulb flickering on and off. "You'll see. Eventually." 

"Does that mean you won't come to the afterparty? Kathrine told me she'd fire me if I did not bring you along this time either. Seems like the people at the gala want to hand out prices only to those willing to attend." 

"I have not decided yet." 

"You know you can't just hold it off forever. Right? At least, come this time and explain yourself to those people. I'm sure they will be in for a well-earned surprise once you show up with that big personality of yours! Who knows? They might even stop inviting you." 

A faint smile escaped me. 

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" 

"Anyway, you should think about this. But, for real. Please? I really don't want to lose this job. Do you have any idea how messed up the job market is right now?" 

I shook my head, another smile escaping, before I turned and waved her goodbye. Even so, though I did not say a word to her, though I treated her so coldly, she confessed. 

As she always did. 

"I love you, by the way. Have I ever told you that? So, be good to me, Eli! Because I can't imagine anyone liking someone as stoic and heartless as you!" 

I entered the elevator, and as it slowly closed, whispered to myself. 

"I know. That's why you should hurry up and just hate me instead. For your own sake." 

It wasn't that I did not love her; I just couldn't. Nothing excited me. Whether that was two bodies on top of one another covered in a tender mix of lust and sweat or the wetness of a passionate kiss under the rain. Nothing excited me but—that. 

I knew I was afflicted, that I shouldn't be having these thoughts tearing me apart, but I could not help them. So, I tried to make the best out of my situation. I stayed away from people, let them hate me instead of love me, treated them cruelly to hide myself from the ugly truth I could not escape. One error, one misstep, would not only change my life forever, but also affect other people. I could not afford this. Even if it meant I'd have to end my existence, I would not let the instincts take over. No matter what. But I could not foresee the future, and so, I did not see the danger coming before it appeared before me. 

I was twenty-six years old at the time, caught in the downpour on my way home. 

My research lasted longer than usual, and I clocked out of the office past midnight, at a time when the bus came once every hour. I was running in the rain to catch up with the bus at the time, but missed it just as it left the bus stop, leaving me to my own devices in the middle of the night. So, I took cover at the bus stop, listened and watched the heavy rain for a while before putting on my wireless earphone, the lyrics of Deathmask Divine by The Black Dahlia Murder blaring in one ear, as I traced the droplets' path in the air before they fell like petals over the pavement. It was one of the most hauntingly beautiful sights I had ever witnessed, and perhaps it was the beauty of my surroundings that intoxicated me, making me let my guard down, though only briefly. But it was enough – just enough. 

A car pulled over, obscuring my view over the rain. A black sedan. 

“Removal of the eyes gives my heart a sudden chill. I preserve them in formaldehyde to gaze upon at will...” 

I cocked my head slowly as the window rolled down and a stranger of similar age addressed me. He had one of the purest voices I had ever heard – that I would ever hear again. I could tell he was raised well and that he was hesitant n about approaching me, a young woman all alone and drenched cold in the night. 

"Hey, uh, I'm sorry. I'm working at that company over there." I followed his gaze to a large building housing numerous companies. "I'm actually an accountant but have just started working, so I was working overtime to show my feet—" 

"Why are you telling me all this?" 

"Right. I-I just saw you miss the buss and I... I..." 

"You want to give me a ride, but is too hesitant because you think you might offend or scare me." 

He blinked. "How did you—" 

"It's written all over your face." 

He scratched his neck, a crooked smile forming on his lips as he averted my gaze. 

"Is that so?" 

I cocked my head anew, my eyes narrowing and a smirk forming on my lips, the last part of the lyrics lingering before I pulled out the earphone. 

“Tonight I'll lay beside you, darling, in necromantic sin...” 

I stood up, my grin growing wider, and drew closer to the car. 

"So," I asked, leaning down to see his eyes better, both elbows resting on the open window. "Are you giving me a ride?” 

He looked up at those words and met my eyes. 

"I..." 

Seeing him hesitate, another smirk appeared on my face before I took notice of it, pulling away and twisting the handle; letting myself in before he could protest. 

"Can you turn on the heat, by the way?" 

It took him a moment to regain his bearing. "S-Sure." 

I gave a brief smile and reached for the sweater between us. "Mind if I use this?" 

"Huh? Uh-uh. Go ahead." 

But instead of turning on the motor after this short exchange, he sat overly upright in his seat, all tensed up, and in a daze. I patted my hair dry for another few seconds before breaking off. 

"Are we going to stay here all night?" 

At this remark, he finally snapped out from whatever had taken hold and turned the igniter. "Is your place, uh, far from here?" 

I cast him a glance before resting my head against the window, watching the rain fall in cadence to the beat of my heart through the windshield. 

"Just keep driving straight. I'll tell you the way as we go." 

"Okay." 

Only minutes into the drive, he turned on the stereo and some old school folk music blared in the background. His hands were trembling, and for some reason that made me smile. 

Mind you, enough people had pursued me over the years, but I had not met anyone quite peculiar like this. Guys like this were too nervous to even approach so they opted to watch from afar instead. But this guy, despite himself, knowing very well how nervous I would make him, had actually the nerve to approach me. Maybe he thought I would reject his offer, and he was right in thinking so, for had it been someone else behind the wheel that night, I would not have entered the car. 

"You said you were an accountant?" 

He tried hard not to look at me. 

"Yeah. New graduate. Only been a few weeks since I started working properly." 

"I see. And your name?" 

The car bumped slightly. 

"My name?" 

"Don't you have one?" 

"Forrest. You?" 

"Forrest?" I said, the surprise in my voice betraying me. 

"Heard my aunt named me after her first love." He looked at me properly with a wide smile on. "Apparently, they never got to be together in this lifetime." 

"Why not?" 

He was no longer smiling and my own smile too faded. I wished I could see him smile again at that moment, take note of every wrinkle, every line. 

"He was sent to war shortly after confessing and... never returned." 

"She must've been heartbroken, then." 

"She was. For a long time. Never married or anything. She lived a lonely life, then died lonely, too." 

"Not quite." 

"Huh? What do you mean?" 

"You said she never forgot about him. That means he never left her. Only the people around her could not see them. Together, that is." 

He gave a nervous smile, once again focusing on the windshield and the downpour. 

"It almost sounds like you have seen it with your own eyes." 

"It's called instinct." 

"Instinct?" 

I rested my head against the window once more. "Uh-uh. Us women can sense things like that for some reason. You think it's a gift or curse?" 

"I guess that depends. What do you think?" 

I hesitated. "I think it's a curse." 

I could tell he stared at me as I said this, though I did not look, as though my words had caught him off guard. 

"Why... do you think that?" 

"Turn left here." 

"Uh, sure." 

He twisted the wheel. 

I seized the moment to study him then. His eyes were beautiful, like the ocean. The way his face turned solemn as he concentrated... something straight out of fairytale. So, pure. So, innocent. Did people like this really exist or was I only seeing what I wanted to see? 

"Stop the car." 

He abruptly turned to me. "What—" 

"I said, stop the car. Now." 

He pushed on the clutch and the brake at the same time. 

We lurched forwards. 

When the car came to a still, he looked at me with perplexed eyes, hoping for an explanation. But I gave him none. Instead, I unlocked the door and stepped out into the rain. 

He stepped out too and caught up with me. 

"Hey, is everything all right?" 

I feigned ignorance and picked up the pace, as did he. 

"Why are you running away? Did I make you uncomfortable?" 

Hearing this, I broke off and whipped around, my long hair fluttering slowly in the crisp air. "You didn't. On the contrary." 

He came to a stop, too. "Then why...?" 

I couldn't look in his eyes. "It's not about you," I whispered so he wouldn't hear. "It’s me. There's something wrong with me and it... scares me." 

"Hey, is everything—" 

I looked him in the eyes then. 

"You're a good person. Don't you know it's dangerous to give strangers a ride in the middle of the night? Aren't you afraid I might hurt you?" 

He staggered back a step. "I'm sorry?" 

"You heard me. Answer." 

"I... I don't understand." 

"Or are you the one trying to hurt me? Is that why you got off the car and followed me?" 

"...No." 

A smirk appeared on my lips without me being able to stop it, before I turned away and it faded, my eyes once again meeting his. 

"You hesitated. Even if it lasted no more than a second, I saw your eyes flicker." 

"You've misunderstood. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay. That's why I followed you. But now I understand I shouldn't have." 

He turned his back and retraced his steps back to the car. 

At that moment, something inside me came to life from the darkness I tried so hard to suppress, and before I knew it, I found myself picking up a rock and advancing. Faster and faster. A part of me couldn't bear to see him leave. This was a first. I shouldn't have felt like this. Whenever I pushed someone away, I felt nothing in particular. Nothing. But this time it was different. I wanted him to stay with me. 

Forever. 

He turned around; I swung the rock. 

We locked eyes briefly as he clutched his bleeding wound, his eyes betraying the confusion rising within, before he collapsed sideways to the ground. 

I stood upright, panting heavily under the rain as it washed away the blood pooling on the pavement, watching the crimson liquid slowly disappear into the drain. My chest rose and fell with each exhale, my afflicted mind reeling, and a warm feeling spreading throughout my otherwise cold body. I crouched beside him then and caressed what little remained of his life, his quivering eyes holding mine in a silent plea. 

I withdrew my hand and—"It's not your fault,"—lifted the rock. 

With each swing, his beautiful face slowly disintegrated to a mushy mess of flesh and tendons, the jaw cracked and the bone underneath the ripped skin exposed. I then traced the outline of what remained, working my way down the delicate skin, and then returned, my hand hovering over his open eyes. Digging in. Prying them out, one by one. It felt like I had the whole ocean within my grip, the tip of my tongue tasting the sweetness of iron mixed with salt from the downpour, leaving a tingling sensation behind. 

When I dragged him back into the car and buckled him up beside the driver's seat, the process of decay had already begun, the intoxicating smell spreading fast in the humid air. 

I kissed his bludgeoned face, the flap of his loose flesh bound to the mucosa underneath, and put the pieces, what had not drained away, and tried to make him as beautiful as could be under the circumstances. Even so, despite everything, he was the most beautiful man I had ever laid eyes on. 

I drove until the tank ran dry and the rain stopped. 

My body sank into the seat for a long while as I watched the sun rise above the horizon with my ocean, every thought drowned in a sea of nothingness and every sound too distant to reach me. 

"You know why I did this?" 

I looked at him, but he offered no response. 

"I was afraid that you would leave me, just like Aunt did. I know that was selfish of me, but I have no regrets. You were unlucky to have met me this one time. It wasn't your fault." 

I stepped out of the car and pushed it down the embarkment, watching in silence as the vehicle vanished into the crushing depths below. In my pocket, gripped tightly, were the only things left of his existence. The ocean within his beautiful eyes that would forever haunt me, forever be mine, forever bound to my wretched existence. 

But I did not just erase his existence that dawning. With him, I buried that part of me, too. Thus, for many years I did not fall in love; could not. As how it should be. 

And for a while, everything went back to normal. On the surface, that is. 

I drew out the ocean every night and let him live in my memories, fantasizing of another life, one that would never come true. In my head, we were happily married and nothing and no one could break us apart. But that was how fantasies worked, anyway. It showed a distorted version of reality, making people think they could make fairytales come true. Reality, however, did not work like that.  

When he leaned over to turn on the stereo that night, he wore a wedding ring. He did not like me the way I did, he just took pity on me. Once I got off the car, we would never see each other again. I did not want that. Still, I gave him a chance. Had he not followed me, things would have turned out much different than they had now. 

I checked into the hotel and entered the suite at exactly 1:37 AM. It rained today, just like it did that night, the pitter-patter of each drop like a lullaby in my ears as I stepped onto the balcony and watched the bustling city come to life below. A couple fought just across the street, some young men pulled a drag outside the night club, half-naked women stood waiting at the pavement and waved over men for the night. 

I leaned over the rails, my head tilting slightly as I watched the world pass by me in all its hectic schedule, and a smirk crept up my face lined with wrinkles. It was my birthday tomorrow. It was also the same day I found my ocean and lost it. I would be turning thirty-nine; my agent said she would throw a party this time, whether I liked or not, and make sure I had the time of my life. 

But I had other plans. 

I slung over my legs and rested my back against the rails, reaching into my pocket to light a cigarette for the first time in many years. As I inhaled the smoke and let it fester and burn in my lungs, I let my gaze settle back to the rhythm below, scanning each and every face in the hopes I would find another ocean that would keep death at bay. But I found none. 

Tomorrow morning, the news would not cover that lavish birthday party, neither would my fans mourn my loss. Once my script went live, every major news broadcast would know and tell the world where my ocean lay to rest. I wrote down every haunting detail so no one in their right mind would think I had made any of it up. I used the real date he went missing, the ring and the initials on it, what I did, how I did it... and where I hid the ocean. 

Denver would probably hate me but that was what I wanted, anyway. I did not deserve her love, neither did I deserve the fans. I was a monster – had always been one. Even when I touched my aunt's cold hands all those years ago, all I could think of was how beautiful she was in pale skin, and how I would like to sleep next to her and caress her naked form. 

I think it all started then. Those fantasies. I did not have a word for it back then, I was too young to know, but when I met my ocean, I knew what I was – what I had always been. 

But... I did not desire him, not even once. Not when he was still warm to the touch. 

I wanted to see how he looked when he lay cold and naked, how his skin turned pale and grey, how much more beautiful he could become, and then lay next to him in that deadly silence and become one, like lovers are supposed to. 

But as you must be aware by now, I did not go through with the last step in my fantasies. In a way, I think it was my way of showing mercy. Because one did not become God by taking one life or trading one for another, but by showing mercy when the situation least warranted it. It was also this train of thought that eventually made me lose faith. 

With my final redemption, the mercy I showed my ocean, I had become mightier than the god worshipped by millions upon millions of people, become more powerful than other necrophiliacs taking a life and exhuming graves for something as fleeting as sexual gratification, and more in control than anyone could imagine was ever possible. 

I had become my own god, made of flesh and bones, but— 

I let the cigarette butt slip away and spread my arms wide open, the haunting song lingering deep inside me, never ceasing, never letting go, plummeting. 

Just like how I couldn’t let go of my ocean. 

“I could never let you go, my darling, cold and blue...” 

— even gods must choose a fitting ending.