Episode 198: Odessa (Neron)

Neron slid into the room. He absorbed every detail he could within ten seconds: The room had a sitting area with white carpet and a white couch in front of him and a kitchen with fake wood floors to the right. The cabinets were white and the counters slate. On part of it, closest to him, was a white piece of paper. The appliances were white. Past the bedroom was a hallway that had a single door to the right. He suspected there was a bathroom through that door and behind the kitchen, but he couldn’t tell. It didn’t take much effort to absorb everything.

Except the girl.

She had a feather in her hair. It kind of matched the black scraps she wore.

Dressed like that, he wouldn’t have to disarm her. She had no weapons on her.

No visible weapons.

There was a paper on the counter.

“Neron?” she asked.

“Yes. That’s me.”

Whatever game this was, she had an advantage. She knew his name. He stepped to the counter and read the paper from a step away.

His task was to become intimate with her in a way that would convince Cecil, others, that he cared for her.

That was impossible on its it’s own.

He could have asked her name, but she knew his before meeting him and there was no clue why she did. It meant his name mattered and her name was either omitted with intention or didn’t matter.

Or she had investigated and found documents about him and if he looked around he would be able to find his own.

“Have you been here long?” he asked her.

“As long as I can remember.” She stepped towards him and offered her hand. “I’m Odessa.”

Failure wasn’t an option. Neron didn’t want to die, not today at least. Not over a girl.

He reached for her hand but pulled her into an embrace and a kiss. It wasn’t as wet as he expected pressing his mouth to someone else’s would be. “Hi, Odessa.”

“Hi, Neron. I’m excited about this.”

She slid her free hand down his chest and then didn’t stop. He grabbed her hand and pulled it away, lacing his fingers with hers instead. “Me, too.”

That, wherever she was going, was not happening yet.

He let go of her hand and slid his arm across her shoulder, like they were friends. “I’ve been waiting for a chance to meet you,” he lied. He knew if it was a competition there were recordings and he needed to say things that sounded like he wanted her.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked.

She slipped out from under his arm and left him as she went into the kitchen. “I made you an iced orange drink. It has something in it to help you relax.”

She opened the fridge and he watched every angle, moving so he could see what she was getting out.

Whatever something was, relaxing sounded like a trap, like death. From everything he had read in books, bright colors often indicated poison as a warning symbol. An orange drink that would help him relax sounded like poison.

He was not going to drink it. No matter what.

Unless she drank it and didn’t die, then maybe. He couldn’t just say drink this so I know it isn’t deadly, so he tried to think of some excuse.

Kissing hadn’t been as wet as he thought it might be. An idea formed.

“You should taste it,” he suggested. “Your lips look a little chapped. I don’t want them to dry out.”

She walked over to him, drink in hand, and slid her free hand under his shirt. It made no sense. Why didn’t she just put the drink down?

“Well I made it for you.”

Her fingers felt like claws and her words sounded like promises of death.

She looked up at him, and he looked down. His hands hung at odd angles, not relaxed or straight out, because he didn’t know what to do with them.

“I want this to be good for you. I’ve prepared for this all my life.”

Her fingers continued to run down his chest. He was almost certain whatever she had prepared for wasn’t this. Not him.

Her training must not have been versatile. She had tried to give him a toxin and clawed him. Plus, she was too eager with the progression of things.

Neron set the drink aside.

This was his least favorite assignment yet.

He considered the possibility that he had lived with guys too long. Emily was nice, but she was one girl.

Odessa was another.

He kissed her. It did no good, but at least she wasn’t able to offer him other poisons.

“Show me what you know,” Neron said in the most wanty voice he could find in himself.

She moved closer to him, her claws still against his chest. Her lips pulled on his before she pressed them against her, wet and wanty. She massaged his shoulders and back, pulling him toward the couch.

Neron turned away. This was ridiculous. This wasn’t what he wanted, he hoped it wasn’t what she wanted.

This was a dumb game, and he was tired of dumb games. He didn’t have the patience for her.

He didn’t want to die either. He relaxed back into kissing her.

“I want you to feel good,” she had to say. “Not in pain.”

He pulled away again. “You like black?”

She stared at him. “Black? Black what?”

“Clothes?”

He just wanted to get to know her. This wasn’t a game. It was, but … he needed more. Not just some weird girl who was attack-wanting him.

“Oh, we didn’t pick these,” she replied.

“What do you like?” he asked. Anything to humanize her.

She raised an eyebrow. “Skin.”

“Skin isn’t a color. Skin can be a variety of colors: peach, olive, brown, beige… sand.” Skin could be the basis for killing people, here. Skin was a lot of things, but it wasn’t how he wanted to get to know her. It was a turn off – all the not light colored kids were gone. It was obvious they had been weeded out because of color.

“Are you gay?” Odessa spat out.

“No. What?” Neron stumbled over his words, unsure if he was anything. An image of Brendan stuck on his mind. “Why would you think that?”

He had to be straight, for this. He had to be whatever they told him to be.

It was almost not worth being alive anymore. Neron was exhausted by it all.

“Am I ugly or something?” Odessa asked.

He looked at her – too exposed, but with nice wavy hair, dyed but he didn’t mind that exactly. She looked nice. Appealing.

He thought about Brendan again, but cleared his mind.

“No. You have nice hair,” he pointed out.

“Then what?”

“We’re supposed to be convincing not hasty,” he pointed out. “I wouldn’t believe myself yesterday if I said I walked into a room and we undressed. What’s your problem?”

“My problem?”

She was pissed.

He was going to fail. Fail and die.

It was almost a relief. He was done with this. He wasn’t going to do anything with her. He was done.

“You seem to act without direction,” Neron stated.

“I have an assignment. That’s some pretty solid direction, in my opinion.”

“The assignment requires interpretation.” All assignments did. He wanted a partner that was willing to see that, not someone who was straightforward and blunt and couldn’t give him a minute to stop panicking.

“How about.” She stepped closer again, her hands on his chest, again. “You drink that orange stuff and I make you feel really good and you don’t even have to remember it.”

He knew it. “I’m not letting you poison me.”

He’d have to stay up all night. He was used to it, but he bet there was going to be some physical assignment tomorrow as punishment.

If he didn’t die tonight, maybe that would kill him. Maybe he could take a nap and just quit that way. Protect Brendan for another day.

“Poison you!” She stepped away, her eyes heavy with tears. “I want a good job! Not one in the city.”

“You want me to lie like a rock and you think that is the most convincing way to experience someone? You can’t be that good, you’re scary.”

“I am skilled at this,” she insisted. “But you. Are. Gay.”

“Then why are we fighting?” Neron demanded to know, if she was so skilled she would know that he was uncomfortable and needed not her nails. Not her pushy. Not her.

“Because a normal guy wouldn’t do that,” Neron made up. “Maybe a real guy wants something substantial.”

“Like a real guy?” Odessa asked.

“Like to not be bit and drugged within five minutes of meeting!”

“Biting your lip releases things that are supposed to make you feel good,” she insisted.

So she was textbook, not real life.

Had she ever experienced life? He felt bad for her, thinking all she knew about anything was textbook stuff. There was a limit to them, but Neron didn’t know much else either. He just knew every time they experienced real life it was intense, better. It was different.

“It didn’t work,” he informed her.

“Yeah, because you’re gay.”

“I’m not gay!” Why did that matter? He wasn’t neutral or positive about her, he was irritated and grossed out. If anyone bit him, he’d be turned off.

He couldn’t relax, even though he figured she hadn’t had a life like his – where biting was bad, where he just needed a place that wasn’t violent, where he was almost certain he had even odds of being killed the second he walked into the room and she was drugging him.

“Well we’re going to fail. I’ll get a crappy job and you’ll get whatever punishment.”

“I’m failing no matter what. I’m just not helping you pass if don’t help me.” Neron walked past her, and got himself a clean glass and filled it with water. He didn’t care. He wasn’t drinking her and you won’t remember it crap, but if the water killed him, he wouldn’t have to deal with this anymore anyway.

He knew he didn’t want to die. He hated his life.

He sat at the counter, in silence. She sat on the couch, in silence.

He thought about dying too much, and what a crappy job meant for her. Not death, he wasn’t responsible for her death.

Eventually, she got up with the orange cup. “I’m going to take a bath.” She took a long drink.

At least someone would get to forget this.

Why had he turned it down? Aside from what she would do while he was busy forgetting…

He let her take her bath.

He wanted to talk to her, to figure out a way to make this work for her. Even if he didn’t care about his own life, hers mattered to her.

He got up and knocked on the bathroom door. He knocked again. “Odessa?”

“Neron. Hi.”

He opened the door just a little, but not enough so he could see her. “Just checking. Are you.. Okay?”

“You don’t have to keep choking on me, I’m fun,” she said, her voice slurred.

“I’m sorry,” he offered. He looked up at the camera. He had nothing left to lose. “I’m going to die, because this wasn’t convincing. That’s our punishment. But, I don’t want your life to be screwed up because of me. We can … try again. Just no biting, or scratching.”

Silence.

“Odessa?”

Neron opened the door wider. Odessa had finished the glass of orange drink. Her head was tilted back, her eyes shut.

He felt for a pulse first. She’s just passed out, drugged.

Neron pulled the drain plug and grabbed a towel. He draped the towel over her and lifted her from the bath. He carried her to bed and tucked her into the sheets.

Too late, he thought.

It might be his last night alive. He went to the kitchen and got everything that looked good. He brought it to the bathroom and drew himself a fresh, hot bath.

He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to lie, either.

Maybe Odessa was right. Maybe he was the problem.

He ate something sweet and full of juice with a hard center. It was something he’d never seen there. He remembered it through, from before he was taken: a cherry. He could remember his mom cutting them up, yelling at him to drop it when he got a whole one.

He tore one to pieces, just like she had. His hands and the bath water near his chest stained red. He didn’t care. He ate them, one piece at a time.

He wanted to go home. No more games.

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