Alfred shut the door behind him, walking over to Arthur.
“I can’t, Alfred,” Arthur said and his voice broke into a sob. His vision went blurry. Everything smelled like the sweet metallic tang of blood. He was covered in it.
“Shh, it’s all right,” Alfred said, taking the blood-stained knife out of Arthur’s numb fingers. He kissed Arthur and Arthur tasted blood.
Alfred’s arms felt reassuring around him and Alfred just held him for a moment, soothing. “It’s all right,” he told Arthur.
“I…he saw your hockey mask,” Arthur said. “They’ll know you went on the date with Isabella Townsend. They’ll find out,” he said.
“They won’t,” Alfred said confidently. “Let’s get you cleaned up and I’ll deal with him,” he said.
Arthur couldn’t make his body obey him, but Alfred lifted him up without trouble and guided him into the bathroom even though Arthur kept losing control of his legs and stumbling.
Alfred turned on the bath and stripped Arthur of his clothes, taking away some of the blood that stained him.
“Shower first,” Alfred said and guided Arthur beneath the showerhead.
Arthur watched as the blood dripped away and his hands appeared again. Then Alfred turned on the bath and made Arthur sit down in the warm water.
“You’ll be fine,” Alfred said. “I need to go take care of the body but I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t go,” Arthur said, grabbing Alfred’s sleeves which were bloody by now too. “Don’t leave me.”
“I won’t,” Alfred assured him. “I’ll only be gone a bit. We can’t leave that corpse in here. Someone will be coming to check when he doesn’t reappear.”
Then he leaned over in the bath and kissed Arthur on the forehead.
Arthur sat in the bath without moving. He could still remember how it felt when the knife had sunk into that man’s body. He could still smell the blood even though Alfred had washed it all down the drain. His hands looked pink with it.
Arthur grabbed the soap and began to scrub his arms, under his fingernails, all over his knuckles. He scrubbed until his skin felt dry and rough, and he still didn’t feel clean.
Arthur threw the soap across the room and scrubbed his hands over his face as the sobs began, quiet at first and then building until his shoulders were shaking and the water splashed against the porcelain white tub.
He’d killed a man for Alfred even though Alfred was guilty after all and had killed so many other people. What did that make Arthur?
***
Arthur’s sobs had died to the occasional shake by the time the apartment door opened again and Alfred came in. Alfred looked as clean as he usually did – not a trace of blood on him.
“I took care of it,” he told Arthur as he walked in the bathroom.
By now, Arthur had gathered enough composure to speak again. “Why did you do it?” he asked.
Alfred gave a short, amused laugh. “We couldn’t just leave that dead policeman in here,” he said as he came over to the tub and hauled Arthur up. He wrapped him up in towels as he helped Arthur out of the tub.
“No, why did you… why did you kill them?” Arthur asked. He swallowed. “Was it because of me?” It had taken so long for Arthur to put things together because he just didn’t want to believe it had to do with him. That it had to do with Alfred.
“Of course not,” Alfred said. “They weren’t good people.”
Arthur stared steadily back at him. “And me?” he asked because he’d been number three on the list.
Alfred turned and walked into the living room. There was still a big pool of blood on the wooden floor, dark, that Alfred hadn’t finished cleaning yet, and Arthur felt ill looking at it.
“And me?” Arthur repeated, holding the towel around his shoulders, feeling too exposed and desperate.
Alfred exhaled. “All right. Some of them… in the beginning… I couldn’t stop thinking about you, Arthur.” He swallowed. “All those years ago – do you even remember what happened back then? I do. Every single thing,” Alfred said and turned again, his eyes burning blue like they had looked beneath the mask. “I moved here for you,” he said. “But you never even noticed me anymore so I had to try and forget you,” he said. “I tried. God knows I tried, but I couldn’t… you understand, right?” Alfred said, taking a step toward Arthur.
Forever Mine 11a/11
“I can’t, Alfred,” Arthur said and his voice broke into a sob. His vision went blurry. Everything smelled like the sweet metallic tang of blood. He was covered in it.
“Shh, it’s all right,” Alfred said, taking the blood-stained knife out of Arthur’s numb fingers. He kissed Arthur and Arthur tasted blood.
Alfred’s arms felt reassuring around him and Alfred just held him for a moment, soothing. “It’s all right,” he told Arthur.
“I…he saw your hockey mask,” Arthur said. “They’ll know you went on the date with Isabella Townsend. They’ll find out,” he said.
“They won’t,” Alfred said confidently. “Let’s get you cleaned up and I’ll deal with him,” he said.
Arthur couldn’t make his body obey him, but Alfred lifted him up without trouble and guided him into the bathroom even though Arthur kept losing control of his legs and stumbling.
Alfred turned on the bath and stripped Arthur of his clothes, taking away some of the blood that stained him.
“Shower first,” Alfred said and guided Arthur beneath the showerhead.
Arthur watched as the blood dripped away and his hands appeared again. Then Alfred turned on the bath and made Arthur sit down in the warm water.
“You’ll be fine,” Alfred said. “I need to go take care of the body but I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t go,” Arthur said, grabbing Alfred’s sleeves which were bloody by now too. “Don’t leave me.”
“I won’t,” Alfred assured him. “I’ll only be gone a bit. We can’t leave that corpse in here. Someone will be coming to check when he doesn’t reappear.”
Then he leaned over in the bath and kissed Arthur on the forehead.
Arthur sat in the bath without moving. He could still remember how it felt when the knife had sunk into that man’s body. He could still smell the blood even though Alfred had washed it all down the drain. His hands looked pink with it.
Arthur grabbed the soap and began to scrub his arms, under his fingernails, all over his knuckles. He scrubbed until his skin felt dry and rough, and he still didn’t feel clean.
Arthur threw the soap across the room and scrubbed his hands over his face as the sobs began, quiet at first and then building until his shoulders were shaking and the water splashed against the porcelain white tub.
He’d killed a man for Alfred even though Alfred was guilty after all and had killed so many other people. What did that make Arthur?
Arthur’s sobs had died to the occasional shake by the time the apartment door opened again and Alfred came in. Alfred looked as clean as he usually did – not a trace of blood on him.
“I took care of it,” he told Arthur as he walked in the bathroom.
By now, Arthur had gathered enough composure to speak again. “Why did you do it?” he asked.
Alfred gave a short, amused laugh. “We couldn’t just leave that dead policeman in here,” he said as he came over to the tub and hauled Arthur up. He wrapped him up in towels as he helped Arthur out of the tub.
“No, why did you… why did you kill them?” Arthur asked. He swallowed. “Was it because of me?” It had taken so long for Arthur to put things together because he just didn’t want to believe it had to do with him. That it had to do with Alfred.
“Of course not,” Alfred said. “They weren’t good people.”
Arthur stared steadily back at him. “And me?” he asked because he’d been number three on the list.
Alfred turned and walked into the living room. There was still a big pool of blood on the wooden floor, dark, that Alfred hadn’t finished cleaning yet, and Arthur felt ill looking at it.
“And me?” Arthur repeated, holding the towel around his shoulders, feeling too exposed and desperate.
Alfred exhaled. “All right. Some of them… in the beginning… I couldn’t stop thinking about you, Arthur.” He swallowed. “All those years ago – do you even remember what happened back then? I do. Every single thing,” Alfred said and turned again, his eyes burning blue like they had looked beneath the mask. “I moved here for you,” he said. “But you never even noticed me anymore so I had to try and forget you,” he said. “I tried. God knows I tried, but I couldn’t… you understand, right?” Alfred said, taking a step toward Arthur.