When She Spread Her Wings

I

EROS

RED LOOKED UNDENIABLY GOOD ON ME. Like a rose blooming in the timid rays of sun granted by the loveliest season of the year, like a sweet strawberry with glistening waterdrops running down its body, or perhaps more like the stains on my coat. A trace of red droplets followed me down the darkened streets of London to the gas station, uncovering me to be hunted down by the hyenas which had laid their filthy paws on me before. My poems were horribly wrong – the people’s corners of their mouths didn’t curl up as London’s heavens were cleared of dark clouds, and warm sunshine lit up their faces. Instead, Spring had transformed them into sanguinary beasts.

The lavatory at the gas station radiated of desertion. Evening wind created a whizzing melody in the gloomy space. A few old lamps solely illuminated the mirrors. I avoided my own reflection by looking straight forward, until a wall in front of me forced me to turn around and face the last mirror. You’ve looked worse, I thought to myself. But lying to myself was something I loved doing.

Blood carefully dripped down my face into the sink, soft drops echoing through the space, outbalancing the sound the wind. I just stood there for a few, my hands clamped around the sink, staring into the green eyes others had glared at as their fists crashed into my skull. The eyes that had vaguely seen one of the hyenas pulling out a sharp object which reflected moonlight – the moon had witnessed everything, yet did not feel the need to help a helpless young man out. Perhaps it had covered its eyes when the sharp object penetrated my body. Perhaps it just enjoyed the show like every single self-righteous human being in London.

Carefully, I lifted up the stained shirt and looked down at my stomach. Shivers went down my spine as the sight of the wound triggered the event to start replaying in my head. My hands started shaking at the thought of three men ominously stepping closer and closer to me in the alley I had been transforming into a shelter. An unsure yet friendly greeting had escaped my lips. They had towered over me, appearing to be unrealistically tall. We know who you are, the one with the brown beanie had whispered, and you should die just like your bloody father.

I looked down at the silver bracelet around my wrist. Eros was engraved into the little plate. Everything inside of me wanted to rip the thing off my body and throw it against the wall, everything inside of me wanted him to not be a part of my life, starting with getting rid of everything he had once gifted me. I hated him as much as the hyenas did. But he had raised me and helped me form into the man I was now. A tiny spot in my soul respected him, solely because he once carried the title of father. Eros’ father, my father.

With blood on my hands, I stroke my lips, creating the illusion of wearing red lipstick. I looked at myself in the mirror, eyebrow cut, left side of my face completely swollen and blue, just like my right eye.

            “Her lips covered in blood,” I hoarsely whispered, “there was no point in lipstick. They’d dragged her through the mud. Luckily, her skin was thick.”

A few moments later – perhaps an hour had passed, perhaps ten minutes, my mind was completely off – I was strolling down the streets again, continuing the journey I had started after being maltreated. The road ahead of me was empty. Empty and dusky. The atmosphere held macabre secrets in its possession, the melody of the crickets in the grass at both sides of the road sounded rather eerie, and all of the sudden, I felt incredibly forlorn. Hardly ever like a lost stray dog with a soiled fur, a distorted mind. Where do I go? Just get away.

A void swallowed me. It cursed my eyes to start seeing the landscape in front of me in a blurry way and made my eyelids feel like heavy stones. As I lost my equilibrium, the tones of deep acapella and soft tickling on a bass guitar flowed from my cochlea to my brain where it forced me to sing along and nod my head to the rhythm.

            “Have you ever loved somebody so much,” I sang. Two bright, white lights a little further away in front of me were the only things I saw before hearing a loud thud and realizing it most likely was my body hitting the ground. With all of your heart. . .

I fell down a rabbit hole of voices and eyes. They were all very recognizable, besides that one voice. An ever-so smooth feminine voice, no raspy edge to it – a voice to make one dream away. Soft like cotton, sweet like pastries. Great, now it looks like I’m abducting a hobo. Even the insult ‘hobo’ sounded heavenly rolling over her tongue. Two gorgeous, brown peepers blinked at me. Were those hers? Like honey dripping down hexagonal cells. Art danced in her dilated pupils. I’m going to take you to the hospital, don’t you dare wake up and strangle me. But perhaps I did dream a little of having my hands lovingly wrapped around the soft skin on her neck.

Intrusive glaring forced me to come to awareness. The limbs on my body finally obeyed to my control, but unfortunately the surrender came with the downside of an incredibly painful headache. As I slowly reached for my face, I was able to open my eyes. The blurry sight vaguely explained my current location, a location I had not seen ever since . . . well, just quite some time ago. White, captivating walls, the white bed, white curtains, it was like laying on a cloud in heaven, but with the scent of alcohol penetrating my nostrils. The hospital. When I turned my head to the left, the contours of a human body standing beside my bed caught my attention. I had to blink a couple of times before being able to identify the male-looking creature. But it didn’t take too long to recognize those thick, dark, angry eyebrows, and ocean blue eyes burning into my skin. I grinned.

            “Vanishes like a ghost, not to be heard of then,” air felt coarse against my trachea, “appears when you need him the most, the nature of a true man.”

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. His aura was red, infuriated. An expressive sigh escaped his lips, sounding more like a hissing cat than a human being. The birds chirped their song outside. Perhaps he’d hunt them down.  

            “Jasper,” I stretched my body with the gentlest movement I could perform, but it still caused pain. After a soft moan came out of my mouth, I pointed at his buzzed head. “I love what you did to your hair. Did you go for that tough army look? I see you’ve been working out too. Are you considering joining the army then?”

            “Give me one good reason to not bash your head,” he spat.

            “Well, I tried that yesterday and it didn’t work on them, so that would be a waste of my time,” I shrugged.

            “Eros, you’re wasting your life. f**k off with that arrogance of yours and start using your bloody brain.”

            “And I assume by that you mean: take dad’s money and run off?” I asked with raised brows, “Start a company like you did, live in a luxurious apartment and act like the entire world doesn’t hate us? Act like everything is just fine?”

Jasper kept quiet.

            “I do what I love, and I will grow,” I sighed, “independently.”

            “You live on the streets, you make three pence a day by selling your stupid poems and you get beaten up at least three times a month.” He took a step closer to the bed, “You’re too smart to be homeless, Eros. We both know that. You could’ve gone to uni and become a famous poet from there or whatever you want to be.”

            “Listen, Jasper, if I do anything, I’ll do it on my own. I could’ve gone to university with dad’s money, I could’ve done anything with dad’s money. I don’t want dad’s money, alright?”

My bother threw his hands in the air, but he wasn’t surrendering. It’s what he always did when he didn’t comprehend my arguments. “Dad’s dead, it’s not his bloody money anymore, it’s ours for f**k’s sake!”

            “I’ll pay you back for all of this,” I said dryly, talking about the hospital bill, “I’m sorry for letting this happen again.”

            “You’re coming home with me for a few days and you have no choice.”

The man who gave me no choice, his words sounded mean. Sometimes he even raised his voice, still he was the nicest man I’d ever seen.