Page 152 of Pareidolia

“I’m not staying in here when these bodies start to stink. If you have any hopes of trying to convince me it’s a nice place, I suggest you help me.”

He’s bossy for someone whose skin I could peel off.

“Careful, Aspen.”

Either he wants me to tear him open again, or he doesn’t care if I do, because he pushes his way into the kitchen without looking back.

Like I’m drawn to his defiance, I follow him.

Aspen’s staring at the bodies in front of him like they’re going to jump up and take themselves into the woods to be scavenged. When I finally step forward and grab the man by the leg with two arms, wrapping the other two around his torso so I can rip him in half, he lets out a low grunt.

“What the fuck, Nox.” The way he steps back is almost amusing, dancing out of the way of the blood and viscera that fall to the floor. “You realize that every time I’ve even thought about doing something illegal, I’ve spent hours trying to figure out how I’d keep a scene clean, how I’d make sure no blood got on the floor so people couldn’t find it later with tests and lights and…” His eyes drop to the ground where half the man’s entrails are spilling from his body, and the slow, wet, drip drip drip of blood falling to hardwood is leaving spatters of red on his boots. “This is a mess.”

“Are you still worried about things like police and prison?” I wasn’t sure how else to convey to him that there was no force walking on this earth that could take him away from me without losing their life and soul in the process.

“Call me old-fashioned, but I’ll sleep better at night knowing I don’t have to spend hours scrubbing blood off the floor.” Pleasure pulses through me, and I think he must see it because he adds, “Not that I’m agreeing to stay here.”

I rip the man’s remaining arm from its socket with a wet crunch that makes Aspen cringe, and fling it at him. He catches it with clumsy fingers and glares at me.

“Carry that.” I scoop up the other pieces of the man, leaving his wife on the floor to deal with once we’re back.

“I don’t know why you bothered tearing him apart if you can pick him up with all your fucking arms.” Aspen reaches over and snatches the other arm from the ground, shivering in the cool fall air as he follows me outside.

“You’re the one worried about bodies being found. If you scatter them, it’s less likely.”

I could have told him that no one who comes this deep into the forest ever really makes it out alive, but there’s something satisfying about the way he trails behind me, taking a few quick steps to match my stride until he’s walking at my side.

“This is a shit first date, just so you know.”

Date.

I know the word, though not in context to myself.

“Would this be a first date, or was that when I tore you apart in the forest?” My eyes glance over the bite marks healing on his neck, and he rolls his eyes, though I notice he shrugs his shoulder to press against the wound.

“That was you being a goddamn freak, not a date. This isn’t a date either,” he adds, then glances at the arm he’s holding and lifts it in front of him. “I guess I just always imagined that if I did open up to someone, they’d end up in pieces because they wouldn’t be able to handle it. This isn’t quite that, but…” He uses the arm to pantomime a shrug, then lets out another startled sound when I fling one of the body parts away from me in a wide arc to land somewhere amongst the trees. It’ll be eaten long before anyone even thinks of walking this far into the forest.

“You were never going to be yourself with another human, Aspen. What you are… what you truly are…” I toss another limb and glance at him. “It’s nothing that they could handle.”

He’s quiet as he tosses one of the arms he’s holding to the left, following me deeper into the woods… but the emotions rolling off him are loud enough for all the words he doesn’t say.

Confusion, irritation. That apathy that drew me to him warring with an undercurrent of anger at the honesty of my words… and somewhere beneath it all is a deep, fathomless well of want. A craving he’s had his entire life.

A desire to feel, to know what makes other humans tick and crave, love and hate…

Aspen burns like a wildfire with his desire to know.

I can spend the rest of eternity feeding him emotions, letting him experience the ghost of other humans’ thoughts and feelings… but I can’t help him understand something that I’ve never experienced myself.

It’s not something I can give. I don’t have a heart beating in my chest, just the echo of his as it thunders inside him.

And maybe he realizes that, because he takes a few steps in front of me and throws the other arm in the opposite direction like it’s personally offended him.

After a second he whirls, tilting his head as he looks me up and down.

“Where do you live, Nox?”

“Here.” It’s a simple answer that seems to frustrate him even more.