Feb 26, 2013

Chapter 4, Part 5

I really like this part of the story. Here we see a little more of Greta and Jack's relationship. There is a lot pent up there, and now it finally bursts. 
 
The night was growing, it was the hour of the moon. It was the brightest time of the night, when the moon shone high against the sky. It was deepest minutes of the night, where everyone was asleep save honest workers and thieves.  Jack was getting tired and Greta was getting chatty. They had gone through all of their new shows and all that was left were the old favorites, the TV shows they’d watched a million times and would watch a million more.

Greta was resting with her feet on Jack, like always. The lights were dim, the sound was down, and all was still. It was quiet and perfect and horrible, because the next morning it would end. The sun would shine, the alarm would ring, and they wouldn’t be here.

“My leg hurts. You know what sucks? I’m always in pain.”

“Yep. Sucks.” Jack stretched his arms over his head, yawning.

“No, I mean I’m never going to know of my impending doom because I’m always in pain. There’s probably a blood clot in my leg and I wouldn’t know. What happens if I get the psychosomia? I wouldn’t know.”

Jack looked to Greta, hands over head, and asked: “Does it feel like it’s traveling?”

“I can feel it in my tummy now.”

Unconcerned, Jack turned from Greta and resumed watching the show. “Oh, you can? That’s weird because there are no major blood—“

“Yes there is. There is the most major blood vessel in there.”

“Where do you get these facts?”

“My wrists hurt now does that mean the clot is traveling?

“Yes you’re going to die now,” Jack set his hands down and turned again to Greta. Placing his palm over her thigh, he leaned forward and asked her steadily, “Quick, what do you want to do in the last two minutes?”

“Live.”

Jack stuttered, unsure for a moment of what to do. Then he smiled. “You can’t. Pick something else.” Greta paused, teetering on the brink of reality. It was only make believe, of course, but the pretend made everything seem so real. What would she do if she only had two minutes to live?

Greta placed her palm on the square of his jaw and leaned forward. It was weird, these few seconds before the fall felt more important than anything. More important than her mother’s phone call. More important than the floor and the pills. More important than if he were to suddenly shove her off. These few seconds before held everything she’d ever felt, and not just for Jack. She thought if she could bottle up the moment she’d never need another pill again.

She could see in his face that he was contemplating. He knew what she was doing when she stroked his jaw, he must have known earlier what she meant as well. If he didn’t then, he knew now at least. Greta was mere blinks away from him and if you asked her why she hadn’t kissed him yet, she wouldn’t be able to answer. Maybe she wanted him to contemplate or maybe she was simply savoring the moment.

Greta began to move away. During his contemplation she contemplated as well. What was she doing? She wasn’t dying. This wasn’t the end. She could ruin everything. She looked away from his tenebrous eyes, slowly she ebbed away from him like the tide being pulled back to the ocean. His hand grabbed her thigh.

His eyes were still dark and murky, but there was a lividity in them. A fierce emotion strangled him as he fought back. Purpled and veiny, eyes ready to burst with blood, he was losing the fight. Jack snaked one arm around Greta’s back and pulled her atop him. Both hands now groping the small of her back, Greta grabbed at his neck, pulling him to her. They were so close, this was everything. His hands ran the span of her body, exploring the hills and valleys of her. Her lip just barely touched his. She could feel his breath inside her mouth. Feel his controlled and calculated breathing, so unlike her impassioned, spontaneous breaths. She could feel him, feel that he wanted her. Not just physically but innately. There was a chemical pull. Their blood turned in waves toward each other. They needed to be connected. This was torture.

Something crashed above them. Someone screamed most foul and blood curdling.

“What was that?” Jack questioned.Greta shook her head slightly; she could barely see, a rapturous fugue covered her senses. Jack let go of Greta and carefully removed himself from under her. With that the chemical pull stopped pulling and the ocean that their waves turned dried in to a desert.

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