Free The Goodbye Man by A. Giannoccaro, Mary E. Palmerin Page B

that I hated so much before, but now they are becoming less and less prevalent, which makes me smile. Smile, yes. I am smiling. I feel the end is near as the sensation of the roaches under me dissipates with each fleeting moment. Seconds later, Pavel’s touch is undetected. I am nothing more than a science experiment, a frog being dissected alive while the scientist admires body parts being taken away in pieces.
    I feel like my soul is being sucked away from me, drifting off to a Neverland of void. This is the breakdown and who I was meant to be. The goodbye I have yearned for has finally come, though no words were spoken for me to say goodbye to. The only thing I have on my mind is the man who stole my heart for seconds. But he is gone just like everything else in my life. Nothing lasts. Nothing is good or true. And it doesn’t matter because my time is over.
    Then, the faint cackles from Pavel’s lungs stop. Commotion is all that I hear as a set of familiar hands touch my body.
    Blackness wraps me in a tight hug, telling me to let go. But the hands that I wanted so much before are pleading with me to stay. Is the world worth one more chance?
     

 
     

Caesar
     
    When the price you paid is too high, you should take your money back.
     
     
    We park both vans illegally in front of the building where I live and where Pavel runs his business, the same place where all the sinister filth of the area hides from the world.
    If I come with muscle, then it’s generally not a social call and I see the street rats scurry away to warn those inside of my arrival. It won’t matter, I am here to collect and I won’t be leaving without him - and her. I can feel the tightening of every muscle in my body, the burning that every pulse of my heart pushes through my veins, setting my anger on fire. That trigger that sets my insanity free has been pulled. I had this same feeling when I saw Marta in a dumpster from my bedroom window above. It was the first and last message from the Russian, and now I am going to reply. I can see the lady I told Mateo to call, hovering on the pavement like the black plague that infests these streets hanging in the air we breathe. Her Cheshire grin and pink talons are the image you would see in nightmares. Only here nightmares walk the streets and snatch up dreamers to eat alive every day. Don’t close your eyes to dream here, because it isn’t always me that will come to get you.
    The stench of piss and drugs consumes me with each step I take up the stairs; death hangs in the air here. It is a constant, nothing can cleanse these streets. The place should be razed to the ground and the rubble burned. It festers with all that is wrong with the world. I step over a wasted junkie that has passed out and fallen down; she’s broken some bones or hit her head. I don’t stop to see, because I do not care. The man behind me taps her with his boot to see if she moves and continues on when she doesn’t. The filthy walls close in on us as the light disappears the higher up we go, shadows where ghastly things lurk are all that you can see in here now.
    I see a rat scurry away as I disturb its feast, the constant scuffle of the vermin the soundtrack to the horror movie that is lived here. The corridor leading to the apartment where he squats is quiet, those with any desire to live have retreated behind closed doors. If you don’t see what happens, no one can ask you questions; self-preservation is key in these parts. No one ever sees or hears anything - ever.
    I pound on his door with my fist. “Pavel, you cunt! Open this door.” I keep banging as I can hear footsteps shuffling around inside. We are too high up for a window escape, and the fire escape no longer exists since it rusted and fell apart a long time ago. They have nowhere to go, the only way out is through me. “If I open this door, you will be fucking sorry!” I yell louder, stepping aside so the Hulk beside me can break the door down if I need him