An Arrow to My Chest

My shirt is still sticking to my soaked skin when I get back. The rich guy’s face shows relief as he sees me and his horse. My heart seems to twist around itself a few times, until I rip my eyes away from the guy. Shit!

I get off the horse and tie it to the tree again. It starts eating the grass at its feet, and I pat it lightly on its hindquarters before I walk over to the pan of leftovers. The beans are cold, but food is food.

I feel the rich guy’s eyes on me, but I just ignore him.

“You’re back!” Ray Scarlett appears beside me, a lot cheerier than this morning. I look up at him.

“Yep. Just went for a swim,” I say, before I stuff a handful of beans in my mouth.

“I can tell,” he answers back, before he ruffles my still-wet hair. A few drops of water fall on my shoulders. I smile up at him as he walks past me. He walks on into the forest, and we all know what one does alone in the forest. Too bad we can’t get a paper boy to add us to his rout. And yes, we have newspapers. At least I think we still do. I haven’t read one in… Since last fall.

We sneak into town now and then. Sometimes people forget the faces of those in exile, and just take us for being passer-bys. We usually buy food, clothes and such, but there’s also the occasional newspaper if we can afford it. Lately, very few people have traveled through this forest. Business is slow. Plus, what we have been able to get our hands on, have been shared with the poorest of the poorest. Yep, Tiny Tim got a happy Christmas because of us.

The rich guy is staring again. I glance up at him, but he doesn’t remove his eyes from me.
He truly is annoying.

I wipe my mouth with my sleeve, which is a little damp.

“What?” The guy looks away for a second, before he returns to stare at me.

“How do you do that with your nails?” I frown deeply. I look down at my black fingernails. Does he wanna copy that? That doesn’t seem very rich-guy-like. I look back up at him, and he’s still staring.

“What’s it to you?” I shove the last of the beans into my mouth, as I glare at him.

“I love black.” I lift my eyebrows – the rest of my head soon following.

“Black clothes are easy to get, and the black hair is somewhat manageable. The black around my eyes can be a bit tricky without a mirror, but I handle it. But black nails. Never seen that before.”

My eyebrows are still raised. Suddenly this guy is just rambling. Where it came from, I do not know.

I put the pan aside, before I look back down at my nails. I don’t even remember when I thought of it, it’s been so long.

“There’s this beetle out in the forest. It lives underground, and it’s all black. It tastes delicious, and when you bite its head off, this black goo seeps out. I usually save it up and paint my nails with it now and then. It’s really hard to get off – which is good – and it tastes great.”

When I look up, the rich guy looks slightly disgusted, but still intrigued. I lick my nails – tasting the lovely, sweet taste – as I stare into the guy’s eyes. His mouth falls slightly open.

“So, how do you do that thing around your eyes?” Exchanging fashion tips – fun, apparently.

“If you untie me, I could show you.” Oh that sneaky little fuck.

“Okay,” I say in a cheery voice, and the guy’s eyes light up slightly.

“I’ll just go up and paint my nails then.” I walk towards the rope-ladder. I look back at the guy’s disappointed face and smirk.

“I’ll leave you here – tied to a log like a fucking idiot.” I have no intentions of crawling up the ladder. I don’t wanna paint my nails right now.

“No, wait.” I turn around.

“Sorry. I-I’ll show you. You don’t have to untie me. Just.” He looks down. I frown at him. I fucking don’t get him. Ray Scarlett screaming in his face can’t make him talk, but apparently he doesn’t wanna be alone. What the fuck?

I walk over to him and sit down next to him. He looks up and smiles. Wow.

Shit.

“All you need is a piece of coal.” I frown slightly, before I turn my head toward the – now dead – fireplace. I point.

“Just normal coal?” I can see the guy nod at the corner of my eye. I bent forward and pick up a piece. I look up at the guy.

“You know, coal leaves your hands black,” he says and nudges his head down at my hands. I remove one of my fingers from the piece of burned wood to look at it.

“Then you just run it along the edges of your eyes, and… yeah.” He’s smiling proud. Cocky fucker.

I bring the coal near my eye to try it, but within one second I nearly poke my eye out. I toss the piece of coal off to my side and hold my hand over my eye. Motherfucker of a bitchy cock!

“That’s why I wanted you to untie me,” the rich guy quietly says. I rub the heel of my hand against my eye. It’s slightly wet from tears. Not because of crying-tears, but natural-reaction-tears!

I study the guy. He looks trustworthy, but I know all too well that looks can be deceiving. Way too deceiving.

I kneel down in front of the guy and start tightening the rope around his legs. I tie it tight and thorough, before I finally go behind him and free his hands. I take my knife out.

“If you try anything, I’ll slice your neck open.” I hold the knife to his neck for emphasis.

“O-okay,” he stutters. I sit back down next to him – my knife still firm in my hand.

He brings his hands into his lap – his shoulders popping – and rubs his wrists. They’re slightly red.

Then, he bends forward and picks up a piece of coal. His shirt rides up a bit. I concentrate on breathing normal, which I have to continue concentrating on as he moves close to me and places the piece of coal near my eye. I blink.

“You have to stay still. No blinking.” I nod slightly.

“Look up.” I look up at a tree top – still focusing on breathing normally – as he places his soft fingers on my cheek. I can feel the slight pressure of the coal running across the skin underneath my left eye. It tickles. Then he does the right.

“Close your eyes,” he whispers, and I have no problem doing so as I feel his fingers slide up my cheek. He presses a finger to my left eyebrow and pushes it upwards, before I feel the coal run across the tip of my eyelid. His finger slowly lets go, runs across my skin and puts the same amount of pressure to the other eyebrow. I’ve forgotten to focus.

When he pulls back, I gasp for my breath. I open my eyes and look straight into his hazel-greens. We’re close – very close.

He suddenly breaks the eye-contact and looks down, and once again I gasp for my breath. I blink.

I get up and walk over to the casserole with water. I look into it. Wow.

My eyes are lined with black – more than the rich guy’s. His must’ve faded. I keep staring at myself. It looks so freaking awesome that I can’t help but stare.

“You know, looking into the casserole doesn’t make food magically appear.” I jump up to see Little Bob walk towards me – a girl in his arm. Big-breasted and pouty lipped. Little Bob’s done it again!

“Wow!” he says as he sees my face. He turns his head slightly – still looking at me.

“That looks awesome! How’d you do it?” I smile wide.

“The rich guy showed me.” I turn around, where the rich guy is smiling shyly. ‘Rich guy’. It’s starting to sound stupid.

“Hey, what’s your name anyway?” His eyes light up a bit.

“Gerard. My name is Gerard.” Wow. Cute.