Heartless

Daniel could almost feel the eyes, stabbing daggers into his back, as he walked. The old fluorescent streetlight flitted in and out, matched the frantic pounding of his heart. The hazy fingernail of the sun, lethargic in its dip below the horizon, seemed to taunt him. The street would be dark soon and Daniel would be far enough from the streetlight that he would be sheltered in suffocating darkness. But soon was not now. And as long as there was light, Daniel could be seen.

If he just kept going forward he would be okay. If he just kept getting closer he would be okay. If he just kept taking steps, left foot and then right, he would be okay. 

He needed that to be true.

Of course, nothing could ever be good again. Not anymore. 'Okay' was all that Daniel could hope for. 'Okay' was the only possibility he would allow. Ian may have stolen the 'good' from him, but goddamned if Daniel would accept 'bad.' Not from Ian. Not anymore. 

If he just focused on what lay ahead he would be okay.

Daniel stumbled over a particularly large piece of gravel, falling prostrate on the long-neglected street. He knew that the eyes had watched him fall and he couldn't help but wonder if the owner's mouth was carved into a cheshire grin at his misery. 

If he just got up off the gravel and kept walking he would be okay.

As Daniel dragged himself upwards, wrenching his bare hands away from the small rocks already embedding themselves in his hands, he couldn't recognize the body he was seeing. In the flittering fluorescent light his body looked alien. The white converse that Ian had gotten him for their one-year anniversary, that Daniel had painstakingly cleaned after the few times he wore them out of the house, those blinding white sneakers were now grey. Dirt and grime wrapped around the base of his converse, coated the top of the sneakers, wrapped around his bare ankles. But even despite the feeble light, the dash of red on the toe of his left sneaker was unmistakable. He wondered if the eyes had seen the red.

As long as he kept putting one bloody shoe in front of another he would be okay.

His legs were unrecognizable. It wasn't so much that he didn't know the pair of distressed black jeans that Ian had loved on him. It wasn't even that the jeans felt unfamiliar without the familiar weight of Ian's hand in the back pocket. It was because, despite the hundred pounds of bricks that Daniel could feel weighing him down, his legs kept moving forward. Daniel was pretty sure that even if he wished to stop, to pause for one moment along this abandoned street just to catch his breath, he wouldn't be able to force his legs into submission. That his legs would continue stepping, one foot in front of another, marching themselves down to the house at the end of the street. Without his body if necessary. 

As long as his legs' drive coincided with his own desperate hope he would be okay.

The reason his shirt and arms felt unfamiliar was simple. They were drenched in blood. It was the blood, clinging to Daniel's body like wet paint, that explained the red on the toe of his converse. Daniel watched as three droplets of blood fell off the tip of his index finger, falling down into a dark abyss, splattering as they landed on his shoe. Even as his legs kept propelling him forward Daniel wondered if the eyes had seen the dripping blood. 

As long as the blood kept falling he was in danger. 

Daniel shivered. The tingling feeling of someone dragging the cold metal of the dull end of a knife down his spine was unmistakable. He couldn't resist the urge to turn his head around, to confirm what he feared. Holding his breath, as if in some way that simple act could pause time, he turned backward, his neck straining as he stared at the street, his autonomous legs continuing to propel themselves forward. It was as he feared. The blood had not been limited to the edge of his left shoe, but had been, as far as Daniel could see, laying out a direct trail. A trail that led to the owner of the blood covered arms. A trail that would lead his pursuer directly to him. 

As long as there was light he was in danger.

Fear was an icy shot of adrenaline that propelled Daniel's legs to carry him faster. That froze the ferocious ache of having had his heart ripped out of his chest, mutilated and discarded. Daniel wished he could freeze his memories the same way.

As long as he remembered he was in danger. 

He missed the monster that Ian had become. He missed the Ian that didn't become bored of him. The Ian that he could trust to love him. He missed the Ian that didn't flirt with the cute waiters. The Ian that constantly assured him of the strength of their love. He missed the Ian that talked to him constantly. The Ian that agreed to whatever he wanted. 

Even as Daniel charged forward, sprinting through the empty streets of the neighborhood towards the house he had dreamed of sharing with Ian, he tasted the bitter ache of regret. He remembered the slash of the knife. He remembered the metallic smell. He remembered the screaming.

He remembered watching the heart beat for the last time.

Only a few more steps to go. He could make it. He could be okay. 

He wondered if the eyes were watching his misery. He wondered if they felt any pity for him. He deserved to be pitied. 

As Daniel leaped up the flight of rickety stairs of the house at the end of the street, as he pulled the heavy wooden door shut behind him, as he fell to his knees the ache in his chest too much to bear, the sun fell behind the horizon. Twilight had come. 

Daniel closed his eyes, desperate to feel the warmth of darkness envelope his senses, to save him from the pain, the tragedy. But darkness refused to come. 

The violet-pink sky, stained of the same blood that was starting to harden against Daniel's skin, glared down at him. Daniel could only stare at the weight his left hand had unwittingly brought with him in his frantic escape. He could only stare at the heart, the heart he so lovingly carved out of the monster. 

The heart felt empty in Daniel's hand, not like when he had first pulled it out, the desperate pulsing almost rhythmic, calming. Forcing down the acidic taste of regret, Daniel caressed the lifeless heart. He would be forever haunted by guilt, chased by remorse, but blood could be bleached out of clothes. Knives and bodies could be buried deep where no one could find them. Even if the past would suffocate him, Daniel still had his love, his heart. 

The light of twilight slowly faded, giving way to unrelenting blackness. And still Daniel stayed, sprawled in front of the door, cradling the heart close to him, crooning softly at it.

"I know you love me. And now you're mine forever."

Outside the window of the house at the end of the street, the ghost of Ian Perez stood watch, his eyes bitter, unblinking.