Standing On Edge

In the three days he stayed, there were not many things I learned about Zack. But I figured- with what I had picked up- that I had most of it catalogued.
Firstly, he was not a candidate for Core’s perfect sleeping conditions, because…

a) He sleep-talked. Badly.

b) The little silver-star clip was not alone. Crucifixes with razor-sharp points, spiked embellished pins and badges, accompanied by jagged charm bearing chains- were everywhere. Glinting like a city skyscraper against a midnight backdrop- was Zack. But, oh no, there was more. And, like I said- all his spares, when not being worn- were everywhere. What was worse and even more astoundingly noticeable was that they seemed to accumulate in the masses in the areas he slept, and/or intended on sleeping in. And sleeping on glass, a bed of nails, mini metal daggers at your sides- would not be a peaceful, pain free night of sleep- Or a person who you would let near your perfect, pain free, peaceful night of sleep. Core’s piercings were in, and out. Carefully put away in boxes in the cabinet in the bathroom every time. No risk there.

c) Zack liked to sleep free of restrictions. In other words, anything covering him up eventually ended up somewhere else. Eventually, he ended up not covered up. And … neither Core nor me were sleeping with that.

d) His mouth didn’t have an off button. No, forget that. His mouth didn’t have an off function. It just couldn’t. Just wouldn’t. Even in his sleep, despite the sleep talking- he would occasionally wake and sometimes even trail through to the kitchen, or bathroom, wherever he preferred… (Admissibly, not Core’s room as he, like anyone else would- learnt the hard way that that was not an option). There, he would start talking animatedly to the objects he encountered.

It was funny once; I caught him- on the first night after my crash-landing at the apartment, on my way to the bathroom. These intolerable notes were making their way out of the gap in the door. Followed closely after by a shattering clatter and a crash, like something fell into the bath- a lot of things- fell into the bath. Nervously, I creaked the door ajar- squinting into the shadowed nothingness. Eventually, I managed to make him, it, whatever it was- out. Just in pants, leaning over the bathtub, kneeling on the floor, arms dangling and swinging about in the ceramic crater- was Zack facedown; singing:

‘Dino-Dino Gummies, oh oh oh- give me back mmyyyyyyy herald angels. I, no, Iiiiii~ always hoped you would fuck my arm. But why, oh… wh- FUCK! Aaa… you just did it again… Oh, Maria…you did it, again…’

Ok, it was late. Really late. And late nights and laughing don’t go down well at all with me. With me, actually, they don’t go down at all. Just in general, late nights don’t. But this, on the other hand- had me cracked up in seconds. On closer inspection, I noticed Zack had a shampoo bottle in his hand. He was swinging it in his fist. The lid was open and fluorescent green liquid squidged out every so often, glooping onto various surroundings, and the evermore-towering pile of plastic-y junk in the middle of the bath. As if I dared- but it was kind of hard not to do so, as my laughing lead me to keeling over, falling over my footsteps till I too, reached the bathtubs edge.

‘Zack, mate…’ One hand to his shoulder I whisper-talked as confidently and smoothly as I could over the stifled laughter. His face. It was classic. He turned so quickly at my remark, mouth gaping, shuddering narrowly open in a breath, which in turn, shook him- and he fell back- the biggest clatter yet.

e) When faced with these situations, don’t do the logical thing. Whatever you do- don’t try and help Zack. He will eat you.
If only I had known this sooner.

‘C’mon,’ as I offered a hand my words buffered in slight laughter. This laughter soon found no use for itself. First, he slapped me across the hand. Then all that was left- was a wasted, topless substance looking up at me with wide, perplexed eyes.

‘Bitch! You’re not Maria!’

That was when, I decided to leave him alone. Next morning he didn’t seem to recall a thing… And, of course- I was the one entitled to go clear up ‘the destruction someone caused in the bathroom last night’. Ok, e) wasn’t really a reason why Zack wasn’t suitable for Core’s sleeping condition standards, but nonetheless- what we can all gather from this is- at night; Zack is dangerous. At night, you don’t get involved with Zack. End of story. Unless, you want an end of story; that is.

Ok, so other than making or breaking sleeping arrangements, acting as a somewhat sub-ordinate servant, and cooking up eccentrically queer forms of food- these days were actually filled with something substantial.

The whole time, I was paranoid and worried about someone finding me, my parents calling me even… (Despite the fact my Dad had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with me, and I was more sure of it than ever… And- as for my mum, well she was clueless. Even if there were ‘WANTED’ posters up in every local town on her trip, she would have just pointed at them and commented on how similar the girl featured looked like me, ‘how cute’. But, despite all this, the worry was still there.)

They never called.
They still haven’t.
Core’s smooth skin is touching the back of my palm lightly as we walk along. Streaks of yellow translucent matter are highlighting the dusky, palm-tree lined roadside at intervals. Devon is currently fixated on untangling the wires for some high-tech looking music player device. I am contemplating my 4 days here so far; with this being my 5th.

I’d say they were the best I’d had. There is no other place I’d rather be.