Reawakened

 

I went back today. A mission called out to me from the past and I was burning to see it through. Mother sent me a Facebook message, telling me that my favorite movie was on TV and asked if I had cable to watch it. I told her that I didn’t but I owned the movie on Google Play so I could watch it anytime. I usually played it on Halloween and again in March on the anniversary of when the actor died, but this year had been filled with learning tasks at my job and by the end of both days, I was forced to miss it. While I was waiting on further work yesterday, I turned it on my phone and let the premise take me away. The moment it graced my screen, for the first time in many years, I could feel the dark clad entity I used to be returning like a gentle storm, and I let it wrap me in its comforting embrace.  

The Crow, a Graphic novel penned by James O’ Barr in 1989, later became a cult classic movie in 1994. Eric Draven and his fiancée Shelly Webster were murdered by street thugs, part of a gang that was run by a man named Top Dollar. A year past and Eric is resurrected by a crow, under the lore that they have the power to bring souls back to finish business that was left behind. He sets out on a quest for vengeance, murdering all those involved from the bottom of the food chain to the head of the organization. In his down time, he is plagued by memories of her and his own guilt that he cannot shake. When the killing is finished, Shelley comes to him and takes him home. I’d always wanted a man like Eric; kind, loving, handsome, and brave, but I finally stopped chasing shadows and started writing about them instead. It was an escape from my own shitty existence and it helped me grow in confidence as a writer.  

From a young age that movie captivated me and when I was able, I purchased the novel, both the original and re-release with an introduction by James himself, and an extra chapter. Reading how he spoke about his deceased girlfriend and the death of Brandon Lee, his guilt in what he deemed as him causing both lives to be lost, his search for justice that was denied, it was everything I could identify with. Eternal romance and just rewards for evil have always played a theme in my writing. I need to get back to it.  

Since I hadn’t been able to get the rest of my books and I wasn’t ready to deal with more of Mother’s pity party and guilt trips, I chose to return to the bookstore and see if they had a copy on hand. I figured it would be easier than waiting on one to be mailed in, though I’d do so if there was no other option. I was nervous not knowing how this visit would turn out, especially after the last encounter. Had he been joking or serious? Was he looking down on or chastising me for my attitude regarding relationships, or was he just trying to get a feel for my character since I was an outsider? A customer had, thankfully, interrupted our conversation before and I knew it was too much to hope that it would happen again. As well, I no longer had Prime through Amazon and I didn’t want to fork over the cost of shipping something that weighed no more than a pound. Biting the bullet and dawning my hoodie to blend in, I drove to the city and walked back in the uplifting environment.  

It was the first time I’d seen the small tea bar set up on the counter, and against my better judgement I stopped to make myself some delicious lemon ginger in one of the biodegradable and disposal cups. Over a year ago I’d chosen to go on a diet. Several of my disorders had cropped up again and aside from coffee, as well as the occasional energy drink to get my ass moving in the morning, I stayed away from sweets, soda, and fast food. The heat of the brew was perfect for the chilly day and gave me something to do with my hands other than tremble as I roamed in his territory. He could be anywhere, or knowing my luck he had the day off and I was fearful of nothing more than a 50/50 chance. When I reached the desired section, however, I breathed a sigh of relief. Not a single person in sight and I could peruse at my leisure without moving to make way for others. I was impressed with their selection of both manga and graphic novels. I’ve never been a Marvel or DC fan. The only reason I liked Wolverine was due to Hugh Jackman and he brought the bad ass attitude to life. I played the Batman video games solely out of boredom and enjoyed the fighting aspect. As for manga, I always checked out the cover before choosing to check out the plot. If the artwork didn’t catch me, the plot wouldn’t be enough to hold my interest. While looking for my heart’s desire, I started a list on my phone of titled I’d research when I got home and I couldn’t hold back the excitement at the prospect of new reading material. Didn’t matter that I had a small library waiting for their turn. My interests shifted like the tide and I was chastising myself internally. If any of these held weight, I was going to need more shelves. I usually love DIY projects, but where to put them would be the obstacle to overcome. I was a hopeless packrat with literature, but I couldn’t stop. Never ask me to stop.  

I used to pride myself on being aware of my surroundings and able to detect another’s presence so I wasn’t startled out of my wits. It stemmed from having childhood trauma that was firmly embedded in my character. I never sit with my back to a door in case someone walks in and starts screaming at me and I can’t react in time. Mother was always the worst party at doing this and to this day I refuse to wear headphones when she’s anywhere around. When I was a child, I was seated before the TV in our apartment living room and didn’t hear her come home. She slapped me hard in the back of the head and my trust was shattered. It’s why I flinch when people grab me suddenly or even raise a hand. It came in handy when people tried to jumpscare, but today I failed my own test. His voice came on a heated breath at my ear and I nearly rocketed to the moon. With a gasp I whirled around to see him staring at me. Thankfully he’d chosen to keep his amusement to himself.  

“You don’t have enough from last week?”  

At this he sounded amused, yet there was a hint of skepticism. We hadn’t seen each other since, so perhaps he was back at feeling around the edges and picking up where we’d left off. I don’t know how I was feeling about that, in truth. After ending my last relationship, I wasn’t seeking anything, not even friendship, but I could never be hateful without cause, so I decided it best to answer lest he pester me. 

“Not searching for the ordinary, thank you”, I stated openly, yet pointedly, renewing my search for novel. My note tab was already filled with titles so I put my phone away.  

“Today is a search for justice”. 

He scoffed at my words and from the corner of my eye I could see him lean against the bookshelf with his arms crossed. Yeah, it was elusive, like actual footage of Big Foot that wasn’t shot through a flip phone, or the Pentagon tapes from the day of 9/11, but some of us used what power we did have to bring it about. When he couldn’t manifest in form, we wrote stories or read those created by others to find it. Why did it make it a thing to be sneered at? He was baiting me, and I wasn’t in the mood for his snobbery. 

“I’m going to ignore that little remark. If you haven’t read the book, you don’t get an opinion”. Yes, I was being a brat with a huffiness that would warrant punishment from the right hand, but he gave that in spades and I wanted to return the favor. Who said he got to have all the fun in this exchange? 

I was proven correct in my assumptions the moment I laid eyes on the book and took it to hand. He pulled it away from me and looked over the artwork. The premise was next and in that same snotty manner he yet again scoffed. 

“Some emo guy playing hero and you’re falling over yourself to buy it. I thought you had refined tastes”. 

He thrust it back and I took it willingly. Now he’d pushed the button I tried to avoid and I prepared for battle. 

“Shows how much you know, and I thought you were intelligent”.  

I didn’t usually rise to the occasion, but when the situation called for defense, it came naturally. Especially when it was something dear to me. When I tried to walk past, he stepped in my way and this time I met his huff. 

“That’s not how you treat a customer, you know?” 

He looked me dead in the eyes and spoke without missing a beat. My weakness was already apparent and he was keen to exploit it like a playground bully.  

“Explain what makes me an idiot and I’ll consider giving you a discount on this purchase”.  

I wanted to refuse just to spite him. I didn’t owe anyone an explanation for my feelings, least of all this random dude I’d met a week ago and had the holier-than-thou mindset. Yet something was pushing me to take him up on this exchange. It wasn’t exactly a power play but deeper. He wanted knowledge of how I saw the world, and I wanted to be heard for perhaps the first time in my life. Here was someone willing to listen to the ideas that rolled in my head like a hamster wheel and that misunderstood teenager cried out to get on that soapbox again. Why did I feel like the choice to do so wasn’t mine at all? Rather, it belonged to my inner self and the stranger before me? 

‘Fuck it’, I told myself and looked back into those blue eyes. If he wanted a monologue then he could suffer through the speech that had been written long ago, and he would do so without interruption or offering his own opinions. He’d opened the floodgates. I was mastering the boat was that was paddling through. His inviting was readily accepted.  

"James O' Barr wasn't an emo trying to make himself famous or give the world another hero to idolize", I stated flatly, while holding up the novel for him to focus on. "It was his way of getting justice and lashing out where he couldn't in real life". I paused a moment to let that sink in before continuing. 

"His girlfriend was struck and killed by a drunk driver while she went from home to pick him up. He always blamed himself for this, and the driver barely had anything of a sentence handed down. He created Eric Draven, whose girlfriend was gang raped and killed before his eyes, and all he could was lay there and watch as he lay dying. Legends state that a crow can bring a soul back from death to right a wrong, and so he spends nights hunting the men across the city. Days were for himself, spent in their run down and deserted home, where he tortured himself with memories of Shelly and their love, just as James must have". I could see his self assured stance faltering, but I wasn't finished yet.

"The book later became a movie where Brandon Lee played the role of Eric. He died during the making of it by a truly fluke accident, and James felt that sadness and shame all over again. He believed that if he had never created the novel, then Brandon's fiancee Eliza would still have him". I let this knowledge simmer in silence and it was here that I got my first look at his name tag, and the black letters that spelled his identity; Li Brekker. Well, at least I had something to call him beside the tall guy with black hair, or mystery man. It would make our meetings a little less awkward, though not to any worthy extent. I still knew nothing about him save for his wit, and even that was biting. For someone that exuded the 'loner' vibe, he was certainly curious about strangers. Must have been the small town upbringing. 

"You don't seem like a girl that's had significant loss", he stated after a time. "So why do you like it so much?"

It was my turn to stand mute and find the right words to answer. How I hated payback when it worked its way around. There was much to unpack with that question, even more that I could say and part of me longed to tell my story. He was an outsider in my world and didn't know my family personally. It was an opportunity too good to pass up. Inwardly, I kicked myself. I'd long ago decided not to share my business with the world. Whether out of embarrassment or fatigue at the whole crazy story, perhaps both, I wasn't about to break my mental peace for anyone. 

"All of us have a story that speaks of injustice and a desire to see it end. That novel gives me a sense that one day, a time will come for me to be vindicated. My only hope is that I'm still here to see it".

"You're in danger?" His gaze turned from thoughtful to serious, and I knew my usual thoughts had turned what I thought to be a simple statement into a penny dreadful. No doubt he was envisioning the witness protection program or a gang of mobsters coming after me. Still, I wasn't up for sharing the horrible details but I had to say something to put his mind at ease. 

"Nothing life threatening", I clarified and tucked the book beneath my arm. "Let's just say that I've taken steps to keep myself off certain radars". His stare stayed constant but rather than give into his silent demands, I side stepped for the counter. I'd stayed long enough and wanted to get home for some mental downtime. 

A touch at my arm stalled me. He didn't grab like most people would, but the inference was enough to halt me. 

"You have friends you can call on?"

For anyone else, this request would have seemed odd. Given our history and climate of friendly serial killers, it was better never to answer honestly. Yet there was something about him that put me at ease. Even if I wanted to run away at times rather than endure his surliness, this moment held importance and I wasn't going to be my usually bitchy self and dismiss it.

"In my need for escape, I had to create a physical distance". They were over an hour away. I had friends, just none that I could to when in need.

His eyes grew contemplative and I wondered where his thoughts were taking him. Would he be cross for my disregard of safety rules, or was he going to demand a right to escort me home? Having him know where I lived seemed worse than what I'd shared. It was the definition of secluded and though I enjoyed it, he he seemed to take the role of the over cautionary type and I could practically hear the lecture as he went through it in his head. 

Surprisingly, he took gentle hold of my elbow and escorted me to the counter. There, he pulled out a business card from the holder and quickly scrawled his name and number before handing it over. My only thought was how immaculate his handwriting was and wondered just how many letters he'd written to make it so perfect? Silly, absolutely, but in moments of mental shut down, you found the oddest things to focus on and this was presented to me by his own hand. Like him, it was dark, graceful, yet beautiful and thoughtful. What had I done to receive this gracious attention?

"If something happens, or you feel unsafe, don't hesitate to use it". His tone left no room for argument. Something in my manner of speaking must have alerted him to the fact that I'd opened the door a sliver, yet there was a tidal wave ready to rush over him. He wasn't wrong in that respect, but I dreaded the day when he managed to break through my defenses and learn the truth. It was bound to happen. As much as I tried to hide the truth from my closest friend Jessica, and that lasted a month in total, I eventually caved. Li was a smart man. He'd figured out the right combination of buttons to break the seal wide open.

"I'll try not to", I said and pulled my wallet from my bag. The card was placed behind my license and the picture of Sophie Lancaster and her boyfriend Robert Maltby. I could see another leap of curiosity but after our last discussion he kept a tight lid on it.  

"How much do I owe you?" The copy said it was $24 but shops usually had their own pricing system to make it cheaper, or so I hoped. I wasn't going broke since I no longer paid my mother's expenses with mine. Didn't mean I wanted to spend another over $20. Seems like he had a mind reading ability, though.

$15, repeat customer discount". He took the book from my hands and scanned into the computer. His fingers danced gracefully across the keyboard and the price reflected the bargain. Not even tax included. What a dangerous game he was playing for someone who'd given him a lecture that brought out his humility. Still I stood paralyzed. It was a fantastic bargain and my head was telling me to keep my mouth shut. My conscience was the mule kicking me in the ass to speak up, and I relented, though casually.

"Sure your boss won't fire you for the indignity of selling a high priced item so cheaply?" It was only six years old, but it was the special edition. 'Highly sought after', in other words. Still, it didn't keep me from pulling my debit card and handing it over readily. 

"Seeing how it's the family business, I don't think they'll take a second look". He swiped the card and slid it back, ignoring my wide eyed gaze. How the hell did I get lucky enough for this to happen?!

"I meant it", he reiterated after bagging the book and passing it over. My cheeks were red for embarrassment. "Doesn't matter how small you think it is, or you don't want to bother me. Call". 

I took possession and stepped back quickly. The urge to spill the tea was at fingertips. All I had to do was confess and then he'd understand how serious it wasn't. I hadn't been so quiet to tell people off before. Why was it, with him, that I couldn't make my mouth form the words that were rolling through my head? Rather, I gave a curt nod and put both wallet and novel in my bag before leaving. This feeling of safety, having a friend close again, was gnawing at me and I didn't know how to process it. Like standing on a cliff overlooking the ocean, while a wildfire burns behind you. All you have to do is leap to safety, despite the risks involved, but fear keeps you in danger's path. It was only a matter of time before you were consumed, and the fire was already nipping at my heels.

I barely remember the drive home. Not even planting myself in the same armchair that offered comfort at the easiest of times. It was the later barrage of texts from my mother about my father's 'Girlfriend" that prompted me to my senses. Shutting off the device I went to shower before settling into my blog. It's become my only escape now, but I'm grateful. Perhaps, through this, I'll find clarity, or a voice to tell me I'm not insane.

One can dream, and that's the most beautiful part, isn't it?