The Knife of Never Letting Go

And not rising.

“Viola!” I yell–

And I leap past him–

He lets me go–

I reach her–

Her legs are up on the stone bench–

Her head’s on the stone floor–

A little stream of blood running from it–

“Viola!” I say and I lift her–

And her head falls back–

“VIOLA!” I yell–

And I hear a low rumble from behind me–

Laughter.

He’s laughing.

“You were always going to betray her,” he says. “It was foreseen.”

“You SHUT UP!”

“And do you know why?”

“I’ll KILL YOU!”

He lowers his voice to a whisper–

But a whisper I can feel shiver thru my entire body–

“You’ve already fallen.”

And my Noise blazes red.

Redder than it’s ever been.

Murderous red.

“Yes, Todd,” Aaron hisses. “Yes, that’s the way.”

I lay Viola gently down and I stand and face him.

And my hate is so big, it fills the cavern.

“Come on, boy,” he says. “Purify yerself.”

I look at the knife–

Resting in a puddle of water–

Near the ledge by the pulpit behind Aaron–

Where I dropped it–

And I hear it calling to me–

Take me, it says–

Take me and use me, it says–

Aaron holds open his arms.

“Murder me,” he says. “Become a man.”

Never let me go, says the knife–

“I’m sorry,” I whisper under my breath tho I don’t know who to or what for–

I’m sorry–

And I leap–

Aaron doesn’t move, arms open as if to embrace me–

I barrel into him with my shoulder–

He doesn’t resist–

My Noise screams red–

We fall past the pulpit to the ledge–

I’m on top of him–

He still doesn’t resist–

I punch his face–

Over–

And over–

And over–

Breaking it further–

Breaking it into bloody messy pieces–

Hate pouring outta me thru my fists–

And still I pound him–

Still I hit–

Thru the breaking of bone–

And the snapping of gristle–

And an eye crushed under my knuckles–

Till I can no longer feel my hands–

And still I hit–

And his blood spills on me and over–

And the red of it matches the red of my Noise–

And then I lean back, still on him, covered in his blood–

And he’s laughing, he’s laughing still–

And he’s gurgling “Yes” thru broken teeth, “Yes–”

And the red rises in me–

And I can’t hold it back–

And the hate–

And I look over–

At the knife–

Just a metre away–

On the ledge–

By the pulpit–

Calling for me–

Calling–

And this time I know–

This time I know–

I’m going to use it.

And I jump for it–

My hand outstretched–

My Noise so red I can barely see–

Yes, says the knife–

Yes.

Take me.

Take the power in yer hand–

But another hand is there first–

Viola.

And as I fall towards it there’s a rush in me–

A rush in my Noise–

A rush from seeing her there–

From seeing her alive–

A rush that rises higher than the red–

And “Viola,” I say–

Just “Viola”.

And she picks up the knife.

My momentum is tumbling me towards the edge and I’m turning to try and catch myself and I can see her lifting the knife and I can see her stepping forward and I’m falling into the ledge and my fingers are slipping on wet stone and I can see Aaron sitting up and he’s only got one eye now and it’s staring at Viola as she’s raising the knife and she’s bringing it forward and I can’t stop her and Aaron is trying to rise and Viola’s moving towards him and I’m hitting the ledge with my shoulder and stopping just short of falling over and I’m watching and what’s left of Aaron’s Noise is radiating anger and fear and it’s saying No–

It’s saying Not you–

And Viola’s raising her arm–

Raising the knife–

And bringing it down–

And down–

And down–

And plunging it straight into the side of Aaron’s neck–

So hard the point comes out the other side–

And there’s a crunch, a crunch I remember–

Aaron falls over from the force of it–

And Viola lets go of the knife–

She steps back.

Her face is white.

I can hear her breathing over the roar.

I lift myself with my hands–

And we watch.

Aaron’s pushing himself up.

He’s pushing himself up, one hand clawing at the knife, but it stays in his neck. His remaining eye is wide open, his tongue lolling outta his mouth.

He gets to his knees.

And then to his feet.

Viola cries out a little and steps back.

Steps back till she’s next to me.

We can hear him trying to swallow.

Trying to breathe.

He steps forward but stumbles against the pulpit.

He looks our way.

His tongue swells and writhes.

He’s trying to say something.

He’s trying to say something to me.

He’s trying to make a word.

But he can’t.

He can’t.

His Noise is just wild colours and pictures and things I won’t ever be able to say.

He catches my eye.

And his Noise stops.

Completely stops.

At last.

And gravity takes his body and he slumps sideways.

Away from the pulpit.

And over the edge.

And disappears under the wall of water.

Taking the knife with him.

Viola sits down next to me so hard and fast it’s like she fell there.

She’s breathing heavy and staring into the space where Aaron was. The sunlight thru the falls casts waves of watery light over her face but that’s the only thing on it that moves.

“Viola?” I say, leaping up into a squat next to her.

“He’s gone,” she says.

“Yeah,” I say. “He’s gone.”

And she just breathes.

My Noise is rattling like a crashing spaceship full of reds and whites and things so different it’s like my head is being pulled apart.

I woulda done it.

I woulda done it for her.

But instead–

“I woulda done it,” I say. “I was ready to do it.”

She looks at me, her eyes wide. “Todd?”

“I woulda killed him myself.” I find my voice raising a little. “I was ready to do it!”

And then her chin starts shaking, not as if she’s going to cry, but actually shaking and then her shoulders, too, and her eyes are getting wider and she’s shaking harder and nothing leaves my Noise and it’s all still there but something else enters it and it’s for her and I grab her and hold her to me and we rock back and forth for a while so she can just shake all she wants to.

She don’t speak for a long time, just makes little moaning sounds in her throat, and I remember just after I killed the Spackle, how I could feel the crunch running down my arm, how I could keep seeing his blood, how I saw him die again and again.