pzb.drawingblood-第45章
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Zach propped himself on one elbow； shook the stuff out of his hair。 〃What is it？〃
But Trevor was already up off the mattress； out of the room； running down the hall and slamming into the studio。 He had left his sketchbook neatly centered on the drawing table。 Now it lay wide open at a crazy angle on the floor； its spiral spine pulled askew by whatever force had ripped out the five pages of his story。 The sight gave him a sick sensation in his stomach。
He picked up the sketchbook。 It felt dirty； as if the pages were lightly coated with slime。 Trevor supposed they might be。 He made himself hold it between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand； made himself walk slowly back down the hall instead of caroming off the walls； beating his head against the door frames； or simply throwing himself to the floor and sobbing。
Zach's hands were full of the scraps of paper。 He was trying to examine them in the watery light from the window。 Trevor held up the sketchbook。 As Zach made out what it was； a stricken expression dawned on his face。 〃Not the Bird story？〃
So he had read it； the little snoop。 Trevor couldn't bring himself to care much now。 〃Yeah； that's it you're holding。〃
Zach spread his hands and let the fragments flutter to the floor。 He rubbed his palms together to dislodge the ones that had stuck； then started brushing them off the pillow and blanket。 〃Did you 。 。 。 were you 。 。 。〃
He read the question in Zach's face。 Zach was wondering if Trevor could have torn up the story himself。 The realization didn't even make Trevor angry； he supposed it was a reasonable enough doubt。 〃I was in bed with you all night；〃 he said。 〃You know I was。 I could just as well ask you the same thing。〃
〃But I didn't…〃
〃I know you didn't。〃
〃What are you gonna do？〃
〃Draw it again； I guess。〃
Zach started to speak； stopped； then could not seem to help himself。 〃But 。 。 。 but 。 。 。 Trevor 。 。 。〃
〃What？〃
〃Aren't you pissed？〃
〃What？ That you read my story？〃
〃No；〃 Zach said impatiently。 〃I'm sorry but 。。。 no。 I mean； aren't you mad that it's gone？〃
Trevor sat down on the edge of the mattress。 He looked at Zach； who was leaning forward； his hands clenched into fists against his bare chest； his muscles tensed； his eyes very wide and blazing。 〃Well； you obviously are。〃
〃Why aren't you？ It destroyed your work and threw it in your face！ How can you not be pissed？〃
Trevor took a deep breath。 〃There's something in this house。 I think it might be my family。〃
〃Yeah； I think maybe so too。 And you know what I'd do if I were you？ I'd say so fucking what and get the hell out of here。 If it'll tear up your work； it'll hurt you。〃
〃I don't care。〃
Zach opened his mouth to reply； could not find anything to say and closed it again。
〃If I hadn't been here； I wouldn't have drawn that story in the first place。 Birdland gave it to me。 What can I say if Birdland wants it back？〃
〃Try bullshit。〃
Zach slid across the mattress and laid his hands on either side of Trevor's head； his fingertips pressing gently against the temples。 〃This is your Birdland。 And these。〃 He dropped his hands to Trevor's； took away the mutilated sketchbook； wrapped Trevor's hands in his own and squeezed。 〃If you came back here to find something； at least admit what it is。 Don't get to thinking you need this place for your art； because you don't。 That would be suicide。〃
〃Maybe I want to mit suicide。〃
〃Why？〃
Trevor pulled his hands away。 〃Why don't you just drop it？〃
〃Because your father did？ Is that why you think it's so fucking romantic？ 'Cause if you do…〃
〃Why don't you shut the fuck up and get your stuff…〃
〃…maybe you ought to think about this： HE JUST LOST HIS GODDAMN SENSE OF HUMOR！〃
Zach reached for Trevor's shoulder； maybe only wanting to grab it and shake it to belabor his point。 Trevor didn't want to be grabbed。 He brought his right arm up to shield himself； and Zach made the mistake of trying to pull it down。 Trevor saw his left hand curl into a fist； watched it draw back and piston forward into Zach's still…talking mouth。 He felt the skin split warmly against his knuckles； felt spit and blood smear across his hand。 It hurt where it had connected with the hardness of teeth and gums。 But it wasn't his drawing hand。
Zach's head hit the wall hard and he slid to the mattress； dazed。 Above his bloody mouth； his eyes were a more vivid green than ever； wide； stunned； scared。 Those eyes begged mercy。 It was a wonderful emotion to see in someone's eyes。 You could grant it if you wanted。 But you also had the power to refuse it。
Trevor pulled his fist back to do it again。 His other hand curled around Zach's wrist； felt the small bones grind deliciously beneath his fingers。 He watched Zach's eyes。 This was what they had looked like before they died。 This was how it had been on the other side of the hammer。
He's right； you know。
Trevor stopped。
If Bobby couldn't stand to live without his art； okay。 Suicide is always an option。 But he didn't have to kill them。 You didn't have to spend the rest of your life alone。 Momma would have taken care of you and Didi。 Is saying he lost his sense of humor so far wrong？
He'd had such thoughts before； usually late at night in a cheap bed in an unfamiliar city。 Now they came again unbidden and made him realize what he had been about to do。 He had been ready not just to hit Zach； but to hit him again and again； as many times as it took 。。。 to shut him up？ To kill him？ Trevor didn't know。
He shoved himself away from Zach； rolled off the mattress and lay on the floor in the dust and the ruins of his story。 Half of him hoped Zach would e over here and beat the shit out of him now。 Trevor would lie still and let him do it。
But half of him hoped Zach would stay away。 Because the softness of Zach's lips spreading and splitting open against his hand had felt so damn good 。 。 。
Zach pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets and willed himself to disappear into the mattress。 He was sure Trevor's fist was going to smash into his face at any moment； and he only hoped that blow would knock him out before the next one came。 He knew he should defend himself。 He couldn't land a punch； but he could kick。
But fighting back was the one thing he could not do。 He had a stoic dread of physical pain born of hard experience： you took what you couldn't avoid； but you didn't ask for more。 Zach had learned long ago that if you fought back； they only hurt you worse。
When the blow didn't e； he risked a look； though he had a particular horror of being punched in the eye so hard that it just squirted out of its socket。 But Trevor didn't hit him again。 Trevor was halfway across the room； lying on the floor with his arms wrapped around his head。
Zach swallowed a mouthful of blood； felt hot helpless tears spilling over the rims of his eyelids； stinging his wounded lips。 Blood dripped off his chin； made deep red blossoms on the bare mattress； ran down his chest and traced the pale arc of his ribs in vivid scarlet。 Zach felt it pooling in his navel； trickling into his crotch。 He put his fingertips to his mouth and they came away slicked nearly purple。 He looked again at Trevor； still curled miserably on the floor。
Why bother？ I was right all along： the second you make yourself vulnerable to someone； they start drawing blood。
Yeah； but if a real vampire came along； you'd bare your neck in a second。
Zach almost laughed through his tears。 It was true； he was always ready to take the flashy risks； always ready for the rush of impending doom as long as he could thwart it at the last second。 But the slower…acting and ultimately more dangerous risk of involving his life with someone's； of laying his soul open to someone； that was just too much。
He felt a surge of self…loathing。 His whole life had been lived by the Siamese…twin philosophies of Do what thou wilt and Fuck you。 Jack； I've got mine。 Beyond all his digital daring he was a coward； unable to fight or love。 No wonder he made such a good punching bag。
Trevor might be crazy； probably was crazy； but at least he was look
