Dynamics of a Human Heart Ch. 08

"It seemed the most logical course of action."

Isabel looked at him a long time. And then she punched him in the face again.

Grey winced but didn't try to avoid the blow, "You're going to want to switch hands if you intend to keep doing that so as to avoid hurting yourself."

"I hate you!"

"Good. It is my gift to you: a broken heart mends and can be well enough to be given to the right person, as you did with your husband."

He reached into his jacket and removed a cigarette, lighting up he took a long drag and exhaled a cloud of smoke away from the woman.

"I'm confused," Sam addressed Isabel, "If you knew him from before, why are you so surprised to see him now?"

"Because back when I knew him, he wasn't called "Grey", he called himself "Jorge" and he never let on that he was anything more than what he seemed to be." She gave a small shrug, "I had no reason to believe that he was concealing his identity, or that he was lying about who he was." The Spaniard regarded him sadly, "He never once gave me any reason to believe that he would ever lie to me."

"Everyone lies," Grey said quietly.

"I didn't."

"You seem to have learned, given how upset your friends here are about your snooping."

"You're not even sorry?" Miranda asked, finding her voice.

"Not even a little," Grey confirmed, "She has a husband who loves and treasures her, and I think it was worth the price."

"The ends justify the means, huh Grey?"

"You said it, not I," he coughed and rubbed his chest, "Fuck that hurts."

Miranda reached out to touch his face and he jerked away from her, "What are you on about?" he demanded.

"You're bleeding," she said quietly, touching the side of his mouth with the scar, it came back dark red.

"Well, I have just been repeatedly struck in the face," he coughed and rubbed at his chest.

"Blood's too dark, it's internal."

"That's a pretty far-fetched assumption..." his words trailed off as he dropped his cigarette and clutched at his chest, "Goddamn it!"

"What is it Grey, what's wrong?"

"An--," he hissed and then groaned in agony.

"What?"

"An-gina."

"Angina," Miranda's mouth dropped open, "You're smoking thirty cigarettes a day, binge-drinking and getting into fights and you're telling me you have a heart condition?!"

Grey grinned, his teeth were bloody and he spat a glob of dark crimson from his mouth, "Pretty much."

"Are you trying to kill yourself?" Sam demanded.

"No, but I'm not opposed to the idea either."

Sam and Miranda were left speechless as Isabel got to her feet, "I can't do this," she addressed the girls, gesturing at Grey's pained form, "Get him to a hospital, or don't, I don't care. I'm done caring about this one." She turned to go.

"Isabel!"

Isabel stopped and turned slowly to face Grey, "What?"

"Are you happy? Your life, your love. Are you happy?"

She was quiet for a moment, "More than you can possibly imagine."

"You're welcome. Goodbye, little bird."

"Goodbye, viejo mentiroso condenado."

She left then and never looked back.

"What did she say?" Miranda asked quietly.

"She called him an 'old, doomed liar'," Sam replied quietly.

"Fitting."

Grey took out another cigarette, lit up, and began to walk away.

"Are you going to a hospital?" Sam asked him.

"I'm going home. If I'm going to die, I'd rather it be there."

"Is there anything we can do to change your mind?"

"The only thing you can do for me is to stay away," he turned and faced the girls, "You beauties and I, we're done. All debts paid. Let me live out the remainder of my time in peace and do not trespass in my life again," he spun around and began to stride away purposefully.

"Grey?" Miranda called out.

"What?" he said, stopping, but not turning to face the girls.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me; I didn't do it for you."

"Then why did you do it?"

A beat.

"Because it needed to be done."

"Is this...truly what you want, Grey?"

He turned to face them, an air of finality in the gesture,

"With all the pieces of my blackened heart: you have caused me to risk my safety, my sanity," he looked back towards the room they had all been in, "and now, the tattered remains of my very soul," he met her violet gaze with emerald eyes, "The high cost of being part of your life is too high. Goodbye Miranda Inoue and Samantha Adler. Go now and suffer in whatever fashion seems best to you."

He nodded curtly, turned, and left the girls in ashen silence.

---------------------------

"Hey!"

Isabel turned with a sigh to face down Sam and Miranda approaching at full speed.

"Why?" Sam asked simply.

"Because I owed him a great deal," was all she said.

"Your integrity!" Miranda yelled at her, "Your decency, we trusted you, how could you spy on us? God, I feel like I don't even know you anymore!"

Isabel hesitated for only a moment; then she unbuttoned the top button of her shirt collar, exposing her neck. She rubbed against her neck with her thumb and soon, smudges of brown concealer stained her skin.

There, upon her dark throat, were thin, white lines of scar tissue: ligature marks. Just like the ones they had seen upon the neck of Mrs. Hillsgrove.

"No..." Sam whispered, going white as a sheet.

"I'm you, Sam," Isabel confessed sadly, "Only my rescue was twenty minutes and eighteen seconds too late."

"Izzy, what did they do--?"

Isabel held up a hand, "Please, I can't deal with this right now. If you want to talk later, we can, but right now I need to get out of here," she buttoned her collar closed and hurried away.

The remained still, for a while, in stunned silence

"Miri?"

"Yes, Sam?"

"Can we go home now?"

"God, yes."

Miranda gripped the handlebars of Sam's chair so tightly, her knuckles went white.

Why? Was all she could think of.

"Why did all this happen?" Sam asked quietly, echoing the other girl's thoughts.

"I don't know, but whatever it is, it's over."

Sam shook her head and stared a thousand yard stare at where Isabel had just been.

"No, Miri," she replied quietly, "It's only just beginning."