Chapter 10: SELF-DESTRUCTION

His walk is lopsided, with extra care as to not put too much pressure on the stitches. He has taken double the amount of recommended pills, so he's feeling the high. This drug is strong.

He's wearing a black hoodie, thick and wide to hide any spill of blood over the bandages. There shouldn't be, though. But you never know. He realized on the taxi that his sneakers have blood splatters on them. With his hands on the front pocket, he approaches Roger's Garage.

The place, a large truck stop far from the city, is buzzing with modified cars. He mostly doesn't recognize the models, although their neon appearance and the vibrant greens, blues, purples... catches his eyes. Some have potent speakers that blast trap music, some are firing their engines to goad about their power. People dance to the music, drinking from plastic cups. He guesses some others will be powdering their noses.

He listens in to the conversations, but the only thing he understands is that they're talking about cars. Mods, and carburetors, and turbos... He narrows his eyes, looking at the crowd, searching for a green head, or red hair.

A hand in his shoulder, Noah jumps, and the skin around the stitches tenses. He's so doped he doesn't feel the pain he's supposed to. His hand shoots up to gently press the bandage.

"There you are, man," greets Duncan. He's holding two beers in his free hand, and offers one plastic cup to Noah, that accepts it willingly.

"Do you have a smoke?" Noah says bringing to fingers to his lips.

Duncan nods, and throws the packet at Noah.

"Serve yourself," his eyes are droopy, his smile sideways.

The smoke burns his throat, and he receives the sensation with delight. He sips on the beer. Duncan signals for him to follow. On the way to the group, Duncan stops many times to talk to strangers. Riley also knew this strangers, as they start conversations with him. However, they soon desist as they slowly realize it's a one way effort. Noah doesn't want to talk. Noah has chosen violence tonight, and his eyes reflect fight.

He chugs the beer and throws the cup. Duncan looks at him with a face of admiration, and maybe a little bit of fear, and offers his own beer to him, raising his eyebrows in a silent question. Noah takes the cup, drinking the bitter liquid in seconds. He grimaces at the aftertaste.

"Is there vodka?"

Duncan laughs incredulously. "I thought you didn't drink vodka since that time when we were teens."

"I do now. It's my favorite, actually."

"Okay, man. I shouldn't be surprised at this point."

Duncan disappears in the crowd. Noah frustrates various attempts to strike conversation while he waits for his friend. He arrives some minutes later, holding two clear cups filled to the brim above his head to avoid any spilling.

Noah smiles. There's destruction in his smile.

"That's more my style," Noah says bringing the glass in a toast, "May we get what we want, but not what we deserve."

"Cheers," he shouts.

No wonder Noah couldn't find them. Eve seems to have borrowed Rune's outfit. Her boots reach up to her thigh, the vinyl shines purple under the neon of a car. She's wearing a black asymmetric top, black shorts, a purple wig, and big sunglasses, as if she's playing incognito. Is it an alter ego?

She's leaning on a black Toyota, maybe from the nineties, one leg propped up in the passenger door. Her hands are crossed over her chest. Noah can't see her usual narrowed gaze behind the dark glasses.

But he doesn't need to. When she spots him, she smiles widely, and she hugs him. He regains balance putting weight on his injured side.

"Hello, handsome."

"Hey, leave some compliments for me," Duncan says embracing Eve's shoulders.

"You'll have your compliments in bed." She gets on her toes and nibs Duncan's nose. The young man smiles with his eyebrows raised.

Noah looks around, taking a drag, and a black shadow that is sitting in the trunk of the Toyota draws his attention. His steps are wobbly with the combined effect of alcohol and painkillers, his muscles feel weak, as if he's suddenly feeling a different gravity, and he has to get used to walking again. His vision is hazy, but clear enough to distinguish Rune as he looks back at him.

His expression is bored. But Noah knows better. He raises his cup toward Rune and chugs half the cup.

Noah hears the excitement before he sees them. His eyes travel in the crowd, until he finds the kind of trouble that calls for him. He presses his wound, and the lethargic discomfort only pushes him further. His eyes follow Sam and his gang.

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Sam approaches the group.

"Damn, Riley, you look like shit. Right, Silas?"

"Yeah, he looks like he's been hit by a truck," responds Silas.

That voice, Noah recognizes. He clenches his fists, and his nails dig into the palms. His knuckles turn white.

"Yeah, I couldn't shower because of you." Noah rolls his eyes. "Thank you so much."

Silas laughs. Noah mirrors his laugh. Like a fork scratching porcelain.

He takes a drag. To his mind comes the image of a dragon whose fire has extinguished, only capable of breathing out smoke, but no less dangerous. He flicks the cig away, and comes to face Sam. From the short distance,  Noah can see the man's dilated pupils, his wide excited eyes, his twitching jaw.

He leans to whisper in Sam's ear, "Next time, don't you dare come for anyone else but me."

Sam responds with a snarl, "So next time, remember Rune's mine."

And Noah knows the threat behind those words. His assertive dominance. And he feels utterly disgusted, and rage tears in his stomach. And he smiles, a vicious smile.

"I pity you. You think you have control, but you're barely an imitation of a marionette. A joke on strings." Noah places a hand on Sam's cheek, "You're worthless. You think you can give orders? You can't even follow them."

Sam punches Noah square in the jaw. He's thrown backwards by the force of the impact, his already blurry vision fills with floating stars. He reaches up to touch the spot that was hit, the skin is numb. It will begin to swell soon. Tears fall down his cheeks, and he tastes the metallic tinge of blood where he bit his cheek.

Noah whips his head upwards, and offers a bloody smile. He runs his tongue on his lower lip. And then springs upwards, and takes hold of Sam's shirt in a fist. He gets close. Enough for Noah's nose to rest on Sam's cheek.

Noah's voice is low, a rushed whisper, a snarl. "Rune is Rune's own property. So nobody owns him. Do you fucking understand?"

Sam whispers back, "If I can't have him, nobody will... But maybe I'll claim you as well." He shoves Noah back, and takes a few steps backwards. "It was fun talking to you, see you some time."

Noah follows his retreat with his eyes, a threat imbedded in them, the urge to tear and rip barely contained. His breathing is shallow and quick, his muscles are tensed, ready for impact at the slightest opportunity, at Noah's command.

"Why don't you claim your prize now?", he  says loud enough for the gathered crowd to hear. He lifts the hoodie, exposing his bandage, and shoves his fingers in the wound, the suture coming undone, and the blood rushes out, oozing through the bandage, and Noah's fingers, as he laughs.

"What the fuck?" exclaims Silas with a grimace.

He wipes his bloody hand on Sam's shirt, leaving an irregular streak.

"Do you want more blood? When will you be satisfied?" Noah runs his hand over the red bandage, and wipes it again in Sam's clothes. "Don't worry, this time the reward is yours. Next time, your blood will be my prize."

Sam looks bewildered. Noah delights in it.

Noah feels a hand in his elbow, and his hungry eyes meet Duncan's. He's not smiling anymore, but there's an edge in his gaze. Does he fear Sam? Or is he afraid of Noah? The young man points at the wound.

"What the fuck, man? Are you okay?", his voice is soft, filled with concern. It reminds him of that night at the club. The memories flood him. And nausea climbs up his throat.

Noah's defenses are knocked down, and reality rushes to him. The high of the pills has subsided enough to feel the piercing pain shooting up to his chest and down his legs. He clutches his abdomen. He nods, his eyes droopy. His energy is gone, and he falters in his step. Eve comes to the rescue, and the couple carry Noah to the Toyota.

They put Noah in the passenger seat. Eve drives, Duncan and Rune are on the backseat. The girl breaks the silence with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, "You're hardcore."

When they arrive to the hospital, Dr. Corrales sighs in exasperation at the bleeding mess. "Again?"

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