They lay naked in bed, fingers and limbs intertwined. A deep orange light pours through the window bringing with it the dog days to come and the sounds and smells of the alley below. A man rummaging through the trash, spilt garbage and empty beer cans all around him, a cigarette pushed between yellow teeth. A car honking at a group of teens smoking weed as they scurry through the alley, they hurl curses and middle fingers at the driver before continuing on to find relief from the heat. In a small bedroom overlooking the hustle of the alley below Elizabeth brushes her fingers across Hunter’s chest, drawing shapes from the sweat droplets forming. Her head rests on his shoulder, hair plastered to one cheek as if glued down, their sweat bonding the skin together. She glides her fingers around, sneaks a glance upwards, Hunter is absently looking out the window, and pinches his left nipple.
“Hey,” he whips his head towards her, letting fly a few drops of sweat forming on his brow, “that feels weird, cut it out.”
“What are you thinking about?”
Hunter’s gaze drifts back towards the window, “I dunno, nothing.”
Elizabeth props herself up on an elbow, their skin peels away from each other like a child getting out of a leather car seat on a hot summer day. She rolls over and lays on top of him, resticking their stomachs together.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Really, I don’t know. I’m just staring outside.” He chuckles and lets his head flop backwards on his pillow. She sighs and lays her cheek down on his chest, letting her head rise and fall with his breath.
“I wish I could crawl in your skin and know what it’s like being you. I wanna know what goes on in that head of yours.”
“Well, come on in,” he stretches his arms outwards, “crawl in and see.” He chuckles again and droops his arms back around her. He looks down and meets her gaze. She stares with a distant look to her and a faint curve of her lips.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What is it?”
The corners of her lips curve upwards and her eyes sparkle in the sunlight, “Nothing, really, I just wish I could wear your skin and be closer to you.” They lay together and sometime before the sun sits straight overhead both fall into a thin sleep.
The light outside betrays the late hour of the day and the grogginess and dry mouth tell her she slept more than anticipated. She sits up and scoots towards her side of the bed, Hunter grumbles something and rolls onto his side leaving sweat stains on the sheets. She opens the drawer on her side table, takes out a cigarette, rummages around, pushing aside a pair of scissors, pens and sticky notes before finding the lighter. She lights the tip and inhales.
She tosses the lighter back into the drawer, reaches to close it then pauses. The lighter lays on top of a ziploc bag that looks slightly familiar to her but she can’t place. She reaches in, pushes the lighter off and picks up the bag. She holds it in front of her, lifts her cigarette to her lips, tendrils of smoke rising to the ceiling, and remembers. Inside are a handful of small mushrooms that she had almost forgotten about. Hunter and she had gotten them months ago from a friend. They both thought it could be fun to try them together, neither one having tried anything like that before.
They never could find a good time to try them and ended up storing them in her drawer. Elizabeth tosses the bag on top of the nightstand. She slowly gets out of bed and heads to the window, opening it half way and blowing smoke out into the impossibly hot evening.
She leans against the glass, her skin leaving wet streaks and looks at Hunter asleep in bed. He twitches slightly and she can see his eyes moving behind closed lids. She wonders what he’s dreaming. She has asked him before what he dreams but he always says he doesn’t remember. What goes on behind closed eye lids, what does he see or feel?
A breeze blows through the window and goosebumps break out down her back. She finishes her cigarette, heads back to her bedside table and drops the butt into a half full glass of room temperature water. It gives a small pfft sound before extinguishing.
She looks down and picks up the bag. Four mushrooms, no longer than three inches each sit inside. The stems are a creamy white color with hints of blue while the caps are a rusty orange color. People often talk about experiences with mushrooms or other psychedelic drugs in which all inhibitions go away and their walls break down. A raw and unfiltered look inward. She holds the bag and stares at Hunter. Is this how she knocks his walls down and peers inside? Is this how she wears another’s skin?
She stands naked beside the bed, the hot colors of a summer evening pouring through the windows, her shoulder length hair matted to the back of her skull, rivers of sweat running down her back and a ziploc bag pinched between her thumb and middle finger. Her eyes stare blankly at nothing, still and vacant as plans form inside. She crawls into bed and scoots to his side, gently placing her hand on his back and jostles him awake. Hunter emerges from his sleep, mumbling and confused. He rolls onto his back, eyes squinted against the light coming through the window.
Elizabeth holds the bag in front of her, Hunter raises his hands, rubbing the last remnants of sleep from his eyes before focusing on the bag.
“What’s that?”
“The mushrooms we got from Henry a while back.”
“Why do you have them?”
“We’re going to take them. Together.”
Hunter scoots up in bed, propping his back against the headboard, sending a shiver down his back, offering a short but welcomed respite from the heat.
“What?”
“I want to take them with you.”
He shakes his head, the midday nap and heat make it hard to think. The room feels hotter now than when he fell asleep and his throat feels like he’s been eating buckets of sand.
“What? You want to take mushrooms tonight and…”
“Now.”
“What?”
“I want to take them now.”
“I don’t…I mean…We’ve never done this before. Why do you want to do this all of a sudden?”
“I want to. I think it would be a good thing for us.”
“A good thing for us? What does that mean?”
“Nothing bad, I just think it will be good. A new experience.”
Hunter slides his legs out of bed and walks to the bathroom. Elizabeth sits down on her side of the bed and listens as he turns on the faucet and drinks from it. He comes back into the bedroom wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I don’t know if an apartment is the right setting for this.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know, people say you’re supposed to go camping or walk by the river.”
“Who says that?”
“People. I don’t know, I heard it in a movie.”
Hunter sits back down on his side of the bed and looks at her. His eyes slide down and up and they both smile and laugh. He had never been good at saying no to her. “Look, I just woke up, I’m trying to wrap my mind around it is all. I want to do it with you, just give me a second to get my brain working again.”
Elizabeth tosses the bag down on the bed, crawls over to him and kisses his forehead, tasting the salt on her lips. “I’ll go get us some water.” She crawls out of bed and stands there a few moments longer, staring at his right temple. A single bead of sweat drips down, rolls over his ear and down his cheek. She can almost see the pulse beating behind his skin, pumping blood through him, through his brain.
Her eyes grow distant and her mouth droops slightly open. Maybe there’s a way to actually get in, to see the inner workings. A blue vein throbs down his temple, pumping with his heart. She reaches her hand out, fingertips quivering. Let me in, let me see you, let me wear you. She sees the vein opening, a fountain of red spraying upward, a parting of a crimson curtain and in she crawls, her fingers prying, tearing and opening. Seeing through his eyes, living in his skin, thinking with his brain.
She blinks, turns and heads into the hallway and down the stairs, into the kitchen. She fills two glasses with water, drops in a few ice cubes then goes back up to the bedroom. Hunter is lying on the bed and holding the bag, he’s wearing his shirt and underwear that was quickly discarded onto the bedroom floor earlier in the day. She puts the water glasses down on their respective side tables, grabs her clothes and dresses.
“Did you smoke in here?”
“I opened a window.”
“We won’t get our security deposit back if you keep that up.”
She looks around the room with its cracked paint, shotty patch jobs and dozens of hung pictures and pinned up polaroids and shrugs. Hunter follows her gaze and grins. “It might be forfeit, but still.”
She sits down next to him, picks up the bag and dumps out the contents into her hand. She holds two of the mushrooms out to Hunter, his hand hovers above hers for a moment then grabs them.
“Do we take them all?”
“Yeah.”
“How do you know? Is that a lot?”
“I don’t think so. Henry said to split the bag between the two of us.”
“I guess. Seems like a lot”
“If we don’t take enough then what’s the point? We should take it all.”
Hunter holds the two mushrooms in the palm of his hand and looks at Elizabeth. She meets his gaze, smiles, tosses them into her mouth and starts to chew. Hunter blinks and watches.
“See, not that bad.”
“Damn.”
“Don’t let me do this alone, Hun.”
He sighs and looks at the mushrooms in his hand, looks back at her, shrugs and tosses them into his mouth. She reaches out and pulls him close, his head resting on her shoulder as he chews. She can feel his jaw muscles flexing against her skin. He looks at her, “I’m nervous.”
She smiles, “That’s okay, we’re together.” She guides them both back onto the bed, her arm around him, her fingers working through his hair. She rubs her fingers around his temple, testing it, trying to find an opening. She knows one will be there soon. A way in. A buzzing feeling works its way through her body, through her stomach and through her arms. The anticipation of knowing is almost too much.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Huh? I don’t know. About what’s going to happen I guess.”
“What do you feel?”
“Nervous.”
She runs her fingers in a circle, outlining his temple. She stares at the top of his head, she can feel his heart thumping against her. His hair parts down the middle and it looks more and more like a doorway into his brain, into his person. She runs a finger across the part, up and down. She puts her pointer finger against it and starts to scratch, her nail moving slightly over his scalp. She pushes down.
“Hey! Cut it out.”
“What are you thinking?”
Outside the sun retreats behind the horizon and takes the warm colors of the world. The moon pushes its way upward and brings a cold light and dark shadows. The street lights start to blink awake and car lights cast ghostly reflections across their bedroom walls. Front doors are locked, blinds are drawn and alarms are set. Humanity retreats to their homes and now the creatures of the night come out to enjoy their time. The sound of laughter echoes through the alley way, the smell of cigarettes lingers. A couple argues, a homeless man screams, a cat hisses and a dog howls at the moon.
The dog howls and howls and more join in. A long and floating sound, almost visible in the air. Hunter reaches his hand upward as if trying to grab it. He lets his hand float above him, the sound bounces around the room then fades. His hand pulses with his heart beat. It breathes with his lungs, slowly growing with each inhale and shrinking with each exhale. He looks to his side, his bare leg touching Elizabeth’s and their skin has become one. He slowly moves his leg and they come apart.
“Where are you going?”
The sounds bounce around the room again and take on new meanings. He looks at Elizabeth and her face is glowing. Her freckles slowly move around her skin, her eyes nearly bursting out of her head, the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He rubs a hand across his face and feels the grooves in his palms and finger tips run across his cheeks.
“Oh man. This is wild.” He starts to laugh and it feels good. A laughter coming from somewhere deep inside him, it rattles his chest and expands his head. He looks back at Elizabeth and she’s smiling, her brilliant green eyes almost entirely overcome by her pupils and now they look black as oil.
“What are you thinking now?”
“I can see your words.”
“What are you feeling?”
He starts to laugh again, “I’m stoned.”
The corner of Elizabeth’s mouth twitches, she can feel her heart start to beat harder and a wave of heat washes over her body. A real feeling, a real thought, she wants something real. There must be more, there has to be more. What do you really think? What really goes on behind those eyes? She watches Hunter sitting up in bed, his back against the headboard and his head tilted back, eyes rolling around looking everywhere but her.
His neck pulses with laughter, his temple throbs with one blue vein. She inches closer to him, her body turned towards his. Her hands feel light, they feel sharp and quick, tools of curiosity and inquisitiveness. She reaches out and rubs his head, his face, his neck. He quietly moans.
“It feels like sunlight on my skin.”
She uses her finger nail and searches. His skull, his temple, his neck. There must be a crack, there must be a way in. There must be a way to know, to see, to feel. Who is he, how is he, why is he? Why? What does he dream of, what does he think about when he lies awake at night? She pushes her finger into his temple, her nail biting, a small spot of blood grows from the indent and Hunter keeps laughing. Not enough, she needs a better way in. She pulls her hand back, a small red spot on the tip of her finger and a red crescent moon on his temple. She puts it in her mouth and the taste of copper is overwhelming. She looks lower. His neck… his jaw. There. She can get in there and then she’ll be able to see through his eyes and wear his skin.
She reaches her hand out, the tip of her nail stained red. Her skin swims, the hairs on her arms stand straight up then lay down, up and down. Is it enough? Is it sharp enough? Can she get in with her fingers? She needs something sharp, she needs something that can…
She turns her head and looks at her side table, scoots over to the edge of the bed and opens the drawer. Inside, next to a pile of pens and other junk is a pair of scissors. She reaches in and grasps the handle, slipping her fingers through, the plastic feeling cold and hard. She looks over her shoulder at Hunter, his eyes closed and rolling in their sockets, a large smile cut across his face. She sees the artery in his neck pulsing with his heart. His whole body seems to beat like a heart.
If she can get a good start with the scissors then she can use her fingers and get into him. And once she’s done she can put it all back and then she’ll know. She won’t have to ask him anymore and tomorrow morning when they have coffee she’ll know what he’s thinking as he pours her cup in silence. She’ll know what he thinks as he stands over the grill in the backyard, his eyes distant and lost in thought. She’ll know all of him. She’ll know his insides and his outside. She’ll know him more than anyone, more than he knows himself, and she’ll tell him what she knows, she’ll show him what she sees.
She turns around and inches closer to him. The scissors firmly gripped in her right hand, she uses her left to reach out and gently touch his face. He sighs and leans his head closer to her, putting more of his weight into the palm of her hand. She grips his face, her fingers wrapped around his eyes and nose and mouth, her thumb clinging onto his ear. She raises her right arm and points the tip of the scissors towards the left side of his neck. I’m coming in. Quickly she jabs her arm forward. The tip of the scissors meet, part the skin and plunge inward. She uses her left arm to hold firm.
Hunter jerks forward and makes a strange gurgling sound. He reaches up as Elizabeth pulls the scissors hard to the left, ripping a large gash into his neck. She lets go and slides the scissors out, a sickly wet sound echoing in her head. She tosses them, sending drops of crimson spinning around the room, splattering the pillows and sheets and floor. Hunter claws at his neck as a red geyser opens up, pumping with his heart, spraying the bed, the walls, everything. A stream of warm sticky liquid splashes her face and runs down her body, pooling in the bed below. Hunter tries to stand up but his knees buckle as he makes another strangled gurgle sound. He falls backward onto the bed, his arms flopping beside him. His fingers and legs twitch, his hand sporadically moving across the blood stained bed sheet, his clawing fingers smearing blood. Elizabeth watches this and tries to imagine what their kids will look like finger painting when they finally decide to have them. She crawls to him and swings her legs over, looking down into his eyes.
“Don’t worry, I’ll put it back when I’m done. I need to know, Hun. I love you.”
Bulging eyes watch her black eyes above him, her pale skin is stained with a red mask and she looks down, curious and loving. His neck pours red with each pulse, an ever growing sticky and warm pool of blood collects beneath them. Slowly his body stills, his fingers stop painting, the red fountain stops flowing, his eyes stop rolling and now she can enter.
She straddles him, not dissimilar to how she sat atop him earlier in the day, and leans forward. She uses a red stained hand to move his head to the side, exposing the red slit in his neck. She reaches forward and pushes three fingers from her right hand into the slit, uses her thumb to grip the outside and pulls. The skin starts to tear upward towards his cheek and she stops. No, it has to be perfect. She doesn’t want anything to tear, it has to be perfect for her and for when she puts it back. She swings her legs off him and crawls towards her side of the bed, reaches down and picks up the red and sticky scissors.
She gets back on top of him and sticks the scissors blade into the gash and slowly cuts along his jawline. Sweat pours from her and she continually has to stop, flex her aching fingers. The world around her is red and she wipes slippery fingers on her blood stained shirt then grips the scissors again. She cuts a line up the side of his head, behind his ear, across his hair line, down the other side behind his ear and meets at the other end of his jaw. A circle of red around his face.
She looks down at him, his eyes still open and mouth slightly agape. She scrunches her forehead, reaches her hand out and closes his eyes, then tries to close his mouth but it falls open. She wishes he looked more peaceful. He won’t mind when she explains why to him, he’s always been so understanding. She tries to wipe some of the blood off his face, accomplishing nothing more than smudging it around. It doesn’t matter, she has to keep going. She puts the scissors down, reaches in below his chin, fingers the flap of skin and starts to pull. His head jerks backward as the skin starts to lift. It doesn’t come free as easily as she hoped it would. It feels like trying to remove the skin off a chicken thigh. She reaches for the scissors again, using one hand to tug and pull and the other to cut beneath.
Outside the moon arcs through the black sky. The creatures of the night have one by one retreated to their homes and even the howling dogs have quieted. A hunched figure bathed in shadows pulls and cuts at the body below. A hand is run across her face, her skin sticky and hot.
Below her Hunter’s body lays still, his face folded up on itself, the only part holding on is the forehead. With another tug and slice from the scissors the last of the skin lets go and now his empty eyes stare upward.
Elizabeth falls to her side and scoots backward, putting her back to the bloodsoaked headboard. She holds her arms out, clutching a death mask of Hunter. She looks around and sees red stained walls, sheets, desk, cabinets, clothes, pictures and skin. She turns the skin around in her hands and slowly brings it closer to her face, gently laying it on her own skin, using her fingers to move it around. She aligns the eye holes with her own eyes and puts the mouth over hers, opening his lips so hers now sit inside. It feels hot and sticky on her skin and she tries to not move too much so as not to knock it off. She smiles and her upturned lips move his lips, a strange red smile on top of her own.
She closes her eyes and feels his face on hers. Let me in, let me know you. She knows his thoughts will come to her, they have to. She is him now, she knows him, lives inside him. She opens her eyes and looks over at Hunter lying next to her. If the face isn’t enough she’ll take more of him. She’ll wear all of him, know all of him. She reaches up with her hand and runs a finger across the skin. Can she feel it now? Can she feel her finger moving over the forehead, down the cheek and across the lips? Yes, she thinks she can. Maybe she’ll take his arms and put them over her own, his legs over hers, his torso. She’ll crawl into his skin and live there for a while and know. She will put it back when she’s done, but for now it’s hers.
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