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I pull a little too hard, draw a little too often, but eventually I succumb to a slumber eased considerably by the omnipresence of my devout demon.

Twenty Six

Sawyer

Every jarring stir and awakening jolt through the night of interconnected naps was soothingly met with Nik shushing, holding, bracing, and reassuring.

A strong cup of tea, and a couple of slices of toast for me, it’s all I can manage. Nik however is cooking up enough eggs to make up for yesterday’s protein deficit. He’s clearly in one of those low-effort days though. Scrambled eggs and a bit of ketchup with his toast. Eggs have a very similar consistency, and I think he’s realised it as I stare into his bowl with furrowed brows. He furrows his, too. Then sticks his hand into the bowl and pulls out a piece of egg shell, laughs and holds it up to his mouth like a tooth

“Look what I found”

I do not laugh. He, however, howls. Properly howls with laughter. Grabbing a handful of scrambled egg and holding it to the side of his head making a pantomime death gasp and squeezing it out of his ear.

Absolute fucking animal.

But after about thirty seconds of him stomping his foot, slapping his thigh, and making himself literally cry with laughter. I finally crack.

After catching my breath I formally inform him “You are a deeply, deeply concerning human” I tell him, as deadpan as I can manage.

“Who’s concerned, exactly?”

I don’t have an answer for that so I just make a what the fuck face at him.

“Hypothetically. For whatever reason, you kill a hundred people…”

Where could he possibly be going with this?

“… I can sit and ruminate, and I can cry, feel guilty, kill myself with regret. All the ‘normal’ human things. Or I can laugh, crack jokes, and get on with life…” this is, enlightening, Nik. Thank you for this ridiculous fact.

“In one scenario, a hundred people are dead, and I am wearing a big sad. In one scenario, a hundred people are still dead. And my mind isn’t trying to murder me for that immutable fact…” he shovels a heap of egg into his mouth and finishes through semi-masticated breakfast “…it’s just maths”

How, Nik, how is it maths? The point though, the point is valid. I open my mouth and go to speak several times over. I can’t actually find a counterargument.

“But wait, there’s more!” he adds with faux-enthusiasm, before going into some other explanation “that’s not to disregard psychological accounting. Suppression is like psychological debt, nobody wants bailiffs turning up. You don’t ignore a sniper just because you can’t see him… that fucker still needs his throat ripping out, you just gotta prioritise who dies first”

That was… what was that? Profound? Literate? Absolute bullshit from the mouth of a psychotic head-stomper? I just look at him, and he mockingly mirrors my head tilt.

“I’m sorry, is this Good Morning with Dr Nik: surviving murder special?”

He laughs through his mouthful of eggs, and then continues.

“How do you think I stayed so sane after the life I’ve led?”

That one sends me, fully sends me. Choking on toast crumbs and spilling tea sends me. Now he’s the one tilting his head in confusion. I can’t even explain through my hysteria induced hyperventilation. I manage one single word “Sane?!”

I catch my breath, eventually. My head in my hands, wiping away the tears and my cheeks aching.

“Nik, exactly what life have you led? And don’t you dare invoke the house rules. You do not get to cover and fill me with your prospective children and not answer that question”

The air dies between us, like all emotion has been sucked from the room, his eyes lose their light. His hand runs down his jaw line, stroking his beard and thinking, very, very deeply. Interlocking his fingers and placing his forearms on the table.

“What do you want to know?”

“I don’t know, everything? Anything? Something? Start at the beginning…?”

“Thousands and thousands of years ago, there were these kind of human things called Neanderthals”

“Nuhuh” I interrupt, “don’t take the piss - no gallows humour, no dodging - it’s completely plausible right now that I die as your… co-conspirator… start where you’re comfortable, I respect you might have stuff that you just don’t want to talk about… but give me something”