“Press the blade down, my love,” he whispers into my ear.
A delicious shudder slithers through my body, responding to his raspy voice, and I feel my nipples harden. Obediently, I follow his instruction, slicing through the meat that I hold on to. It’s a strange sensation, carving through the animal’s flesh, preparing it for the colder months ahead. When we seared several large steaks, we cut two of them into many thin slices to dry them, so we will have jerky to snack on later.
“You look so ethereal handling that knife… Every breath in me falters as I witness you. You are not of this world, yet you are my whole world.”
For a moment, it feels like time stands still; all that matters is him and me. Another moment I want to have captured forever. The air is thick with a metallic tang and the distinct odor of death and decay. I can feel the patches of blood drying on my skin, sticking to the tiny hairs on my arm. The organs on the floor have cooled off, and the steam is no longer rising. A fly flits over the thick, black lashes that surround the glazed-over eyes ofthe stag. Outside, birds sing their song, and occasionally, a hoot from an owl is heard.
This is serenity. This is how I envisiondeath. But by his side, I long to breathe instead of ceasing to.
Chapter Five
Istare at the dull blue eyes that glare back at me, drifting in some thick fluid inside a tightly closed jar, like tiny jellyfish captured in water. Behind it, there’s another one, with just one eye, drifting lonely. Stored between the packages of raw meat, as if they belong there, their presence not foreign. I try to grasp what I’m seeing, making excuses and guessing which animal they might belong to, but deep down, I know they’re unquestionably human, which feeds into my confusion. Why did Jasper store human eyes? And more pressing, where did they come from?
My mind drifts off to the human skulls in the wooden cabinet decorating the bedroom wall. I assumed they were all antique medical specimens, and I had admired them for their pristine condition. The reliquary reminded me of a cathedral window, including the arches and milky glass. The skulls hadfitted perfectly; they belonged there, like a personal curated ossuary.
With the fridge still open, the chill keeping me sane, I slump to the ground and sit down. Jasper’s words come back to me one-by-one, when he spoke about the monster that lives inside him.
“a constant simmering anger lives within me that I suppress by doing things no man should do… It’s the only way to silence it…”
“Doing things no man should do,” I murmur to myself, slowly piecing the pieces together.
The words repeat themselves, like a haunting mantra. I had heard them that night, but subconsciously denied what they stood for, what hetrulymeant to tell me. The fridge starts to ping, a high-pitched sound, its chorus piercing the silence around me, signaling that it’s been open too long and I’m wasting its energy. Ignoring the machine, I wonder whether I’m ready to face the truth. The annoying noise fades to the back of my mind as my thoughts take an unexpected turn, one I’m not prepared for either.
I don’t get time to digest the ideas that crawl into the back of my head, like insects without directions, when Jasper strides in. He pauses when he sees me sitting on the floor, confusion lingering as he takes me in. Then his eyes snap to the open fridge, which is still singing its deafening song. Veiled in bewilderment, he lifts me from the cold tiles and shuts the machine’s doors. He knows what I’ve seen. I saw the hesitation, the splintering of his truths, what to tell me.
“Jasper,” I begin, the map of my thoughts in total ruin. I don’t even know what to say, but I decide to say it anyway; there’s no point in sugarcoating it. “The eyes, Jasper... Why do you have human eyes?”
I pray he doesn’t hear the tremble in my voice. It’s not out of fear for him, but fear for myself, about what I will do when I hear his answer. I stumble on my feet, unsteady like a newborn deer, using his arms to steady myself and crane my neck to meet his gaze.
“Why do you-.”
“I heard you, my love,” he says, interrupting me.
He studies my face, as if the answer to the question is hidden within me. He lets out a low chuckle, and I get the idea he’s… nervous?
I straighten my shoulders as he cages me in, placing both hands on the surface of the fridge, pressing his body against mine. I’m not scared of him, never have been. He lowers his head, his mouth near my ear. His voice frosts over my skin, as if winter’s breath brushes my flesh.
“Because I have a monster inside me, a demon, if you will, that thirsts for blood and boils with rage. I told you before that I need to do unspeakable things, to keep it in check.”
My breath falters. “That doesn’t answer my question, Jasper.”
He kisses the side of my neck, and I almost let out a moan. All I want right now is for him to pick me up and fuck me against the damn fridge and rattle those damn eyes.
“You are fascinated with death photography… I’m fascinated with… body parts… Eyes are the mirror of the soul… I wondered how long it would take before that mirror shattered into nothingness.”
“That’s morbid,” I choke out.
He lets out a barking laugh.
“That’smorbid, but not taking pictures of dead people? Or animals?”
I scoff.
“Listen, my love, I don’t judge you, you know that… I… aren’t you afraid of me…?”
His disorientation is palpable. How easily our conversation flowed following my question, and the realization I’m still here. His question is stripped of armor, almost fragile. I can hear the sorrow in his words, his worry that I will abandon him because of this. But even if I wanted to, I couldn’t, because he ignites my soul. I feel, andamalive because of him, because of his words.
“I do not fear the dark, Jasper, when the dark is you. I belong to you.”
