Me voici de retour après une certaine absence... Je suis désolée de ne pas être très active, que ce soit pour écrire des nouvelles ou pour DCRC... C'est compliqué, avec le boulot à la fac :')
Voici donc une nouvelle un peu spéciale, je dois vous prévenir, ça part un peut dans la gore, le sang, donc, si ça vous dérange, ne lisez pas
Bonne lecture ~
The rosy morning light cast gentle shadows on the walls of the apartment. They stretched slowly, passively, as the sun gently rose the city from its slumber, unveiling or concealing the sharp angles of furniture: cupboards, a table, chairs, a desk, a beautiful and large bookcase… One of the residents was still asleep, legs tangled in the sheets, while the other was up and staring at his computer screen, watching the small cursor blink on and off.
James’s chest heaved with a sigh. He was not convinced by what he had spent writing for the last few hours. He stretched and yawned, feeling his vertebras pop one after the other as he read, again and again, the paragraphs littered over the page. James settled back into his chair and looked over at the clock hanging on the living room wall. It was almost six o’clock, almost time to wake Kali up. He smiled at the thought of his wife, who was probably drooling all over the pillowcase. James carefully plugged his computer, got up and shuffled lazily towards the kitchen.
Grabbing the kettle, he obliviously filled it up, set it back down and turned it on. He then proceeded to take two cups out and set them gently on the counter. James opened a cupboard and gazed at the few tea boxes inside of it, contemplating which one to brew. He himself was more of a coffee drinker, but Kali preferred the refined aromas of the small, dried up leaves. Hastened by the sound of boiling water, he chose a simple but delicate Earl Grey tea. He dropped the tiny bags in the mugs and gingerly poured the searing hot water.
Just as James settled the kettle down, he heard the quiet sound of feet padding on the floor behind him. Warm arms weaved themselves under his and around his body.
“Mh…” muttered Kali, her voice still hoarse with sleep. “You weren’t in bed when I woke up.”
James wrapped his hands around hers with a soft smile.
“Hi, honey. I had to write something down.”
Kali hummed and brushed her cheek on his shoulder.
“M’kay. ‘M gonna take a shower.”
She peeled herself from her husband’s back and dashed towards the bathroom, pestering against the chilliness of the apartment. James laughed quietly and returned to the brewing teas. After he had drained the bags and disposed of them in the bin, he placed Kali’s mug inside the microwave oven so she could heat it back up after her shower. He took hold of his own cup and went back to his still on computer. Again, his eyes followed the gentle curves and dips of the letters he had typed out, sipping his tea from time to time.
A few minutes later, James heard Kali emerge from the bathroom and saw her dressed in her light blue scrubs. He watched her as she tied her long hair up in a high ponytail while she hurried to the microwave and turned it on. Right before the shrilling beep, she opened the door and retrieved her once again hot tea. Her mouth curved beautifully as its smell reached her nose.
“Honey?” James asked.
A distant hum was his only answer. He turned back to the screen and gazed over his work.
“Do you reckon this would work? I mean, would the victim die?”
Shortly after he heard the almost silent whoosh her ponytail made when moving from side to side when she walked, Kali leaned in to read over his shoulder. Lifting his head up, James took in her hair, brushing against the side of her neck, her dark eyes, and the way she moved her lips soundlessly as she read. She held her mug close to her face, vaporous tendrils swirling and casting translucent shadows on her features.
“I haven’t the slightest idea, love” she answered honestly at last. “Maybe you should ask the coroner that helped you on your last book?”
He nodded absentmindedly, distracted by her natural beauty.
“Hm. Yeah, will do.”
Kali glanced down at James. A graceful, lopsided smile stretched on her face as she leaned down close to him and set her mug on the desk. Their lips met in a calm and content embrace, their eyes slipping shut as they reveled in their intimacy and warmth. A small sigh escaped Kali’s throat as she straightened, and James had to stop himself from chasing her lips down with his own.
“I have to go” she whispered.
She smiled and reached for his cheek with her hand, following the path from his cheekbone to his jaw with her fingertips, feeling the roughness of his stubble.
“And so do you” she added a little louder.
James hummed, curious, as he took hold of her hand and brushed her knuckles with his thumb.
“I do?”
Kali looked unimpressed, but her eyes glinted with malice.
“James, have you forgotten about the press conference?”
His thumb stilled on her hand as realization crashed over him. His eyes quickly shifted to the left and back on her as he gasped quietly.
“Nah, I was just… Making sure you knew what I was doing.”
“Yep, you totally forgot” she chuckled, shaking her head.
James rubbed his neck shamefully, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly as he tried to find an excuse.
“Yeah…” he finally admitted.
Kali burst into a guffaw, her head thrown back, before she calmed down and took hold of her husband’s chin and lifting his head up.
“What would you do without me?” she snickered playfully.
“Mh, honestly? Not much, honey” James answered with a lovestruck smile.
“Now, that much is true” Kali giggled.
She leant down and pecked him on the lips one last time.
“I really have to go” she said again.
She straightened and, grabbing her tea, she downed the last of it. She hurried to the kitchen and she carefully rinsed out her mug, before setting it on the counter to dry.
“Evelyn told me she was coming to get you at seven” Kali said over her shoulder as she dried her hands with a cloth.
“And she didn’t think she could tell me that herself?” grumbled James as he got up and grabbed Kali’s bag, handing it to her when she stepped in front of him with a knowing smile.
“Did you check your phone recently?”
As James opened his mouth to speak, he remembered turning off his phone the day before and not picking it back up, completely absorbed in his writing. He sighed, felt his cheeks redden and raked his hand through his hair. Kali patted his arm one last time.
“Check your mails too, love” she giggled as she kissed his cheek. “I love you. I’ll see you tonight.”
Nodding like a scolded child, he returned her kiss.
“I love you too.”
Kali grabbed her keys, making them jingle and opened the door but, before she went out, she stopped at the threshold. Her fingers nervously tapped the handle and she seemed to be pondering something. Finally, she turned back to her husband with a slightly worried look on her face.
“Hey” she said softly. “Try not to think too much about the conference. It’s going to be alright.”
James smiled gently at her words. She was always aware of how he felt and always knew what to say.
“Thank you” he answered quietly, knowing that Kali would enjoy the simplicity of those two words.
She offered him a last crooked smile before she closed the door.
“I look like an idiot” James declared dispassionately when he gazed over his reflection.
He was wearing a dark suit, minus the tie, which only made the pristine shirt underneath the jacket look even whiter. He felt uncomfortable and was already missing his less formal jeans and t-shirt.
“Well, I’d say you always look like an idiot” Evelyn calmly answered as she reviewed the flyer presenting the organization of the conference.
“Gee, thanks for the support, Ev’” James sighed.
He smoothed his jacket and pants down again, the feeling of fabric under his fingertips in a calm and repetitive gesture slightly easing his disarrayed thoughts.
A moment of silence passed, and James was startled by Evelyn’s hand on his shoulder. She was looking at him over her glasses, a small crease appearing between her eyebrows.
“Hey” she whispered gently. “Don’t get inside your head.”
He tried to speak, only to be shushed.
“No, James” she said firmly. “We’ve known each other for too long. I know what you look like when something stresses you out.”
James paused and observed his friend – and agent. It was true. Evelyn had been there for him since the beginning and when it had happened… He suppressed a shiver and forced a smile.
“You’re right” he finally confessed. “I’m not… I don’t…”
He searched for a way to express his discomfort as well as he could.
“I’m not comfortable with the idea of being under the spotlight again…”
Evelyn nodded compassionately.
“I know. It’s going to be alright.”
She gave his shoulder a squeeze and checked her wristwatch quickly.
“Do you want me to call it off?” she asked, suddenly serious. “You know I can.”
James pondered the idea. It was tempting, oh so tempting, to stop all this right now and go back to the safety of his home. No spotlight, no questions, only the quiet of the apartment. However, James knew he had avoided this for too long. In a way, he needed this to move on, as terrifying as it was. He shook his head gently.
“No” he answered firmly. “I have to do it.”
Something like pride flashed in Evelyn’s clear eyes as she nodded and smiled. She checked her wristwatch again and went to grab James’s coat.
“We should get going, then” she chuckled as she handed it to him.
They were behind the stage, hidden by a thick black curtain. James could hear the chatter of the press, his eyes transfixed on the entrance, as Evelyn was greeted by people he did not know. He did not pay attention to what they were saying and mechanically shook hands when needed. James’s heart was pounding in his chest and his hands were slightly trembling. They were guided to a small fold in the curtain where a clever slit had been cut. As the heavy cloth moved and parted to let them through, the press’s whispers died down, only to be replaced by the shutters of cameras.
James stepped onto the stage and was blinded by the lights directed at him. Evelyn guided him to the simple table in the middle of the stage. As they sat down on the two chairs, James felt grateful for the small bottles of water he noticed had been disposed next to plastic glasses and microphones. His throat feeling parched, he gladly unscrewed one of the bottles and filled his glass. Then he looked up and froze.
There were about sixty journalists sitting in front of him, their hungry eyes and cameras trailing after his every move. Some were already scribbling on their notepads. Some were whispering among themselves while others exchanged dirty looks. Every time James moved, he heard the deafening flutter of the cameras, their lenses flashing every now and then when caught in the light.
James forced himself to breathe slowly to stop himself from panicking. He felt rather than saw Evelyn look at him. Her hand found itself on his shoulder again as she leaned close to him.
“Breathe, James, you look like you’re going to pass out.”
“You’re not far off” he answered weakly.
Before she could talk to him again, a voice rose from the audience.
“Mister Derren, welcome back!”
James exchanged a terrified look with Evelyn, who responded with a nod. He took a deep breath in before adjusting his microphone.
“Hello.”
He flinched at the sound of his own voice booming through the speakers.
“Thank you all for coming here today.”
Almost immediately after he said those words, the journalists’ hands shot up in the air, trying to catch his attention. James let his eyes wander over the agitated crowd, unsure of who to take the first question from. A woman, bolder than her colleagues, forewent her profession’s tacit, almost childish, principle and spoke, earning herself silence, some stares and angered murmurs.
“Annie, Lewis, Loose, Crypt…” she mused. “Ten years, four best-selling books and a nearly identical topic – murder, suspense, investigations. However, it never gets old and we are captivated by every word. I’ve got to ask: how do you do it?”
James chuckled, relieved. He had been afraid details about it would be the first thing he would be asked about.
“Oh, I can’t answer that, this is a tricky question” he joked. “I would be giving up the only thing that makes my books interesting.”
The crowd shook with laughter. James raised his hands to calm it down before he continued.
“The only thing I can say about that is thank you, to the families of the victims I was inspired by; to the policemen, doctors and coroners who listened patiently and were an infinite source of information; to Evelyn, my dear friend; and to my wife. I couldn’t have done it without all them.”
A man rose from his chair, holding his pen in front of him.
“Those families… How did they feel about their love ones’ murders being what inspired you to write those books?”
James nodded faintly. He knew his books were perceived to be morally and ethically problematic by some scholars, so it seemed like this topic was unavoidable.
“I want to assure you that I did everything in my power so these families would not be disturbed” he started. “I, of course, asked for their consent, and the whole writing process was supervised by attorneys and psychologists. If something was deemed unethical or too distress-inducing to the families, it would be revised, and re-written. Everything was done to respect their loved ones’ memories and to –”
A new voice rose above James’s, booming through the room, even without a microphone.
“And how do they feel about your fans?”
The last word had been all but spat, disgust laced into it.
“I… I’m not sure to follow –” stammered James, his eyes searching frantically for the one who had spoken.
“Vincent Lee Johnson. Deborah Keaton. Sam Higgle. Hillary Langdon. Need I say more?”
James froze. His blood ran cold.
These names were those of killers, and they were no ordinary murderers. They had butchered men, women, children and had dedicated each massacre to one man. To three books. Memories flooded James’s mind, memories of torn bodies, broken bones and bloody altars, memories that still haunted him at night. Oh, how shame and horror had filled him when he had discovered those atrocities…
A hand rose from the audience, parting the sea of head that were turned towards it and springing a new tide of fluttering camera flashes. A sandy haired man appeared, a cocky smile spread on his thin lips, but his eyes were sending a different message, one of cold determination and burning hatred.
“Marvin Jameson, New York Times” he introduced himself.
James swallowed with difficulty, the concealed accusation weighing uncomfortably on his mind. His trembling hands unconsciously wove themselves together and, as he sat back, he quickly glanced at Evelyn. She was tense, her mouth set in a straight line, her gaze focused on Jameson and, while one of her hand was splayed flat on the table, the other was clenched tightly on her lap.
“What those people did” James slowly started, “is horrifying. But I am in no way, shape or form, responsible for their actions.”
The journalist pursed his lips, nodding.
“Well… That’s not what the FBI thought when they came knocking on your door, did they?” he asked, a falsely confused expression plastered on his face. “What do you have to say about that?”
As Jameson came to a stop, he could not hold back a sinister smirk from stretching his lips. A few journalists audibly gasped at their colleague’s nerve. The woman on his right rose up with her back to the table and talked directly into Jameson’s ear.
Evelyn’s hand shot in front of James and gripped the microphone, effectively bending it away from James’s mouth.
“You don’t have to answer that” she whispered furiously.
James was petrified, his mouth slightly ajar and disbelief painted on his face. Jameson was staring at him with an ever-burning hatred coiled deep within his eyes, until he focused himself on the woman who was now gripping his arm, breaking the trance James had seemed to be in. He looked over to Evelyn, and saw her growing concern, about him, about the turn the press conference was taking. She touched his shoulder carefully.
“James…” she started.
He shushed her with a faint shake of his head. Maybe was this the time to confront it. He took her hand and removed it slowly from the microphone and bent it back in place, his expression unsure.
“No… I – It’s okay, I can do it” he said.
James took a few seconds to compose himself, breathing in and out calmly. The crowd’s whispers died, sensing his impending answer. James let his eyes wander on their eager faces, only to finally settle on Jameson’s. Then, he leaned towards the microphone, and spoke.
“Yes, I did undergo a FBI investigation that was…”
He breathed again as uncomfortable memories surfaced.
“An investigation that was spurred by a series of murders that closely resembled the ones described in my books. Murders that were later described by the criminals as a gift… to me…”
He shivered.
“This investigation went on for almost half a year. Half a year of being constantly mentally and emotionally stripped naked, layer after layer, by people that would want nothing more than to find a wound, a crack into which they could delve to rip you apart. And they were thorough…”
His voice had turned bitter. He lowered his gaze to his hands, still weaved together, his knuckles white from the way he clenched them. Slowly, finger after finger, muscle after muscle, James felt the tension drain out of his body. A tired chuckle rattled his body. The crowd was still silent, waiting for him to keep going.
“Goddammit, they were thorough…” he breathed.
Suddenly, the silence was no more, startling James out of his memories.
“The FBI may be thorough, but they can be fooled, can’t they?” Jameson sarcastically inquired. “You described that in depth in Lewis, didn’t you?”
James looked up, taken aback.
“Th– This was –” he sputtered.
“Let me ask you one more thing” Jameson said, cutting him off.
He bore eyes into James’s and then spoke bluntly.
“Did you fake your mental breakdown too?”
The apartment was plunged into darkness. The winter sunlight was long gone, as were the shadows and the calm of the morning. From the clock, now, only could be heard its gentle ticking. One of the apartment’s resident was sitting quietly in the dark, the cold and faint light from his computer sharpening his features.
James was hunched over his desk, holding his head between his hands. His eyes were looking at nothing as his mind kept on playing what had happened at the press conference again and again. After a few seconds of dumbfounded silence, hell had broken loose after Jameson’s final question. Evelyn had stood up, furious and shocked, and had called off the meeting, her voice barely discernable over the confused and appalled pandemonium of the crowd. People were shouting questions, others were writing profusely in their notebook, cameras were flashing, and James… James was frozen in his seat. He had vaguely registered Evelyn grabbing his arm to get him out of this mess. All he had been able to do was watch as Jameson had been dragged away by his boss – much like himself. James sighed, and he felt his lips stretch into –
“Almost perfect.”
James jumped at those words, at this voice, knocking his knees on his desk. Scrambling up, he turned and placed a hand on his beating heart, exhaling sharply.
“Jesus, Kali, you scared me!” he exclaimed.
She was standing a few feet away from him, shrouded in darkness, her hair hanging limply around her face. Her eyes were large and bright, an earnest light shining madly inside them. Her breathing was shuddering quietly, escaping swiftly from her lips.
Kali slowly unzipped her coat and let it fall from her shoulders to the ground, where it landed in a hushed rustle of fabric. She slowly took a step forward, removing her dark gloves, and they, too, landed on the floor with a wet sound. As she stepped closer and closer, James felt his body tense up, his own breathing coming in shaky inhales and exhales now. He was leaning against his desk, trapped, his fingers clenching the edge of the table.
She was in front of him, now.
“Kali…” James whispered.
She smiled and leaned towards him, placing her hands on his.
They were wet, covered in a viscous liquid. He heard her chuckle when he stopped breathing. Kali took one more step, joining their bodies from hips to shoulders. She brushed his jaw upward with her nose, making him shudder. This was when the smell hit him. Metallic. Strong. The smell of blood. James gasped loudly as he felt Kali’s hands snake up on his forearms, gently, lovingly, pushing past his elbow, underneath his shirt, effectively spreading the liquid on his body.
Then James chuckled darkly.
“That was a fine shirt, you know?”
Kali laughed breathlessly into his ear.
“Nothing a little soap and cold water can’t fix, love” she whispered.
James hummed as he let his head hang back between his shoulders, baring his throat to his wife, a gesture she took as an invite to mouth at his pulse. He felt her reach up and she started unbuttoning his shirt with deft fingers.
“What did you do?” he simply asked, feeling her lips stretch into a smile as she enjoyed the rumble of his vocal cords.
Kali leaned back as she opened James’s shirt, splaying her hands on his chest.
“I did almost everything. The sedative, the knife, the drain cleaner, the carvings… Oh, James, you should’ve heard his screams, you should’ve heard him beg for his life…”
She was now dragging her blunt fingernails on his chest, following his bones, his ribs, her eyes transfixed on the way goosebumps spread in her fingers’ wake.
“You should’ve seen the way his skin peeled back, such a fragile and delicate thing” she continued, breathless. “You should’ve felt the blood gushing out, so beautiful and so warm. You should’ve seen hope vanishing from his eyes when he understood he was doomed. You should’ve seen the way his flesh and muscles gave way under the knife, so malleable and pliant, until it met bones.”
She inhaled and closed her eyes, reveling in her memories, a dreamy smile spreading on her lips.
“Prying muscles and nerves from his bones wasn’t easy, I have to say. It took much more time than you’d thought, love. But it was worth the wait… Ah, seeing this flash of stark white surrounded by this much red was exhilarating.”
Kali shivered. Her hands gripped James’s hips and she kissed him passionately. He let his hands unclench and slipped them under the hem of her shirt, grazing lightly against her back.
“And I was watching you” she said against his lips. “Marvin did a wonderful job. Those eyes, this hate…”
“Hate is only a step away from love” James whispered back, smirking. “I remember him vividly, looking at me with the same eyes before…”
“Oh?”
“While asking if he could kiss me in desperate whispers and with revering touches.”
Kali laughed and bit his lip.
Soon after that, only breaths and moans could be heard, along with quiet I love yous. In a few hours, the sun will rise again, casting gentle shadows on the walls of the apartment. They will stretch slowly, passively, as the sun gently shakes the city from its slumber, unveiling or concealing the sharp angles of furniture: cupboards, a table, chairs, a desk, a beautiful and large bookcase…
And no one would know.
Merci d'avoir lu :3
Comment ça, je viens de passer plus d'une heure à éditer ce monstre et ça ne marche toujours pas? HA HA. Je suis en train de devenir folle.
Entre Dejbreach et maintenant, ce mignon petit couple – ou trio, au bout du compte ? – tu commences à te faire une belle palette de dingues ! (Tu me connais, j'adore les cinglés, donc moi, ça me va très bien XD)
"Honey", "love"… au début, j'étais en train de fondre… et puis, j'ai lu la fin, et mon cerveau a juste refusé d'assimiler, pendant deux secondes. J'ai dû remonter, relire, et me dire « Ah, donc ils s'appellent comme ça entre eux, mais derrière… d'accord, d'accord… WHAT THE F…! » 
Voui, ça l'est 
Je. Pardon ? XD