This was the first Shenya concert she had ever been. Unfortunately it was the last one too. The band was gonna break because of the drummer.
On the stage, Shenya was just ending a song and was preparing for the last one of this concert’s. The crowd was chanting her name. Everybody was in trance. The drummer started gently to drum the beat of “Sting”. Their least liked song. Shenya called his name low but bitter: “Wolverine!”. He blinked but continued the low drumming. She then smiled to the crowd, still chanting and went to the back of the stage where Wolverine was sitting. She called his name again, her hand over the microphone. ” Hey, the last song is “Break free”! Stop this now!” He raised his golden eyes at her. Shenya flinched. She had never seen him like that. She could read in his eyes the many hours of not sleeping, and something else she couldn’t recognize, fear, maybe, like he was going to do something very bad. He finally turned the beat into the right one and the lead guitarist started to play along with the rest of the band. Shenya then returned to the front of the stage after giving the drummer one last furious glare.
Ivy, in the middle of the crowd, saw the whole scene and wondered what was it about. She pitied the band for losing such a excellent drummer.When Shenya begun singing she forgot everything else and started to sing along the all-too-known lyrics. ” He’s breaking the fence/ He wants to be free!”
She stopped singing as the vocals raised three octaves. She felt the energy pulsing in her veins, She felt her soul rising with the octaves and then remaining somewhere up, in the air.
In the middle of the song the rain started to pour. Her soul came back into the body and then raised again. This was her favorite song of all times and she couldn’t express in words how she was feeling now, listening to it live, the whole crowd singing, the adrenaline rushing trough her blood. She was jumping to the rhythm as the whole tone was ascending to a summit and then descended rapidly to the glorious end in the heavy rain.
As the last note was played and the last beat was beaten, it’s vibration still remaining into the humid air, Wolverine raised from his seat and got out of the stage. Ivy, seeing in this an occasion to get her precious autograph went trough the ecstatic crowd and followed him behind the stage. She could only see a glimpse of his black leather jacket entering the building behind the stage. She went after him trough the rain and as she entered the concrete block she felt a big wave of fear around her. Maybe it was only the lack of rain pouring. Ivy swallowed the knot in her throat and went up the stairs where she thought he went.
The first floor was a long corridor with doors on both sides.In the end there was a matte glass wall through which you couldn’t see outside. She hesitated in the entryway then heard a big noise coming from the furthest door. It was a sound like breaking pottery and a howl. Her heart grew smaller and started racing wild. She was suddenly cold from the wet clothes but she advanced on the hallway. The girl then heard a woman scream a scream so high and loud that her ears hurt. Ivy stopped again hoping that it was a spider the woman was afraid of. “God help me!” she prayed , but it didn’t pass her mind to turn around and run away. Instead, she went further to the opened door and stopped near the wall, fearing to glance inside. Her breath was steady though her heart was pounding. She could hear better now. A tiny voice imploring between sobs, an alert breath. Ivy raised her eyes from the ground and was astonished by the view in the glass reflection. A man in a leather jacket bent over a frail black-haired woman, her deep blue eyes, imploring him to spare her life: “No! No! Please, don’t!” . Ivy closed her eyes, blinking. When she opened them again she saw a pocket knife arose in the man’s hand, ready to hit.
In that moment she wanted to scream, to run, regretting she even entered the block, but her legs wouldn’t move. She couldn’t even close her eyes to the ghastly images. All she could do was stare. The man’s armed hand went down with force and struck the woman’s belly. Ivy flinched as she saw blood streaming on the floor tiles.The young woman screamed. To her surprise, the man’s hand rose and then struck again with more force. And then again and again until the woman’s body went limp beside him, her voice now silent. He raised then, the knife in his left hand filthy with red blood. She could see the woman’s eyes still open, now red at the margins, her mouth pouring blood on the floor.
The man turned and saw Ivy’s reflection in the hall’s glass. She startled and her feet unlocked. She got a glimpse of the killer’s golden eyes, filled with an animal rage and she recognized in him what once was the drummer of her favorite band. She ran on the corridor but felt the man running after her, as she couldn’t hear his footsteps on the soft carpet. Ivy followed the footsteps left by her wet sneakers on the fluffy carpet. Too early she felt his breath on her neck and a powerful, salty smell of blood.
The man’s hand caught her shoulder then and turned her to face him. Even with a knife in his hand and a murderous look, Ivy could still see the beauty in the man in front of her and her sight turned from fear to astonishment. Wolverine’s eyes changed too. Instead of furious he was now amazed. No one had ever looked like that at him before. He flinched from that thought and raised his bloody knife. “Wait!” the girl cried rising her arms across her face to make believe she was protected. His hand stopped descending and he looked at her once again in astonishment. People usually cried “No!” when other people wanted to kill them, he thought. Ivy didn’t wait for his answer. She knew she didn’t have time. ” I know you’ll kill me”, she said in one breath, ” but will you please do it with only one cut?”. People are usually afraid of dying. She was now afraid of struggling between life and death like the blue eyed woman did. She wanted to die quick. “Cut me here”, she said touching her throat just under the mandible. “I don’t want to die slow”. Wolverine was shaken by her steady voice and firm last wish. The man lowered his arm to the level of her neck as she closed her eyes taking with her the last image of her killer: his gold eyes shocked and fierce, though able to love, his untidy, wet black hair spread all over his white face splattered with red. She felt the tip of the knife touching her throat, warm and wet with somebody else’s blood and she stopped breathing. She waited, wondering if she was already dead, still feeling the sickening smell of blood. Her ears tinkled as the blade pressed her skin. Then she could feel the cold of the blade no more and she wondered again if she was dead.
“Open your eyes” a soft voice said. She did and looked up at Wolverine’s face. His eyes were pleading now, like she was the killer and he was the victim. “I never knew you voice was so beautiful” she said, looking him in the eyes. “Is your real name Wolverine?”. He didn’t answer. Though the knife was still in his hand, she approached him and put a hand on his face. She felt sorry for him. Feeling the touch, the man looked in her eyes and found there a sparkle of what he had searched all life.
“My name is Adam” he left her eyes and looked down. ” I will still have to kill you.” “I know” Ivy said. “You can’t let this job undone”. She took her hand back and it was bloody. She stepped back one single step and waited again.
Adam looked at his wet and stained clothes and at his red hand and hated himself. “Run!” he said, “Run now or I kill you!” he screamed when she didn’t move, each word a small piece of his internal struggle. His pain was nearly visible and Ivy could certainly see it. She came near him for a second time and easily touched his left hand. He did not move; slowly, looking at his face, Ivy got the blade from his hands. He looked in her big black eyes once again, she put the blade to her throat, her hand not even wavering. Adam looked at her, first confused, then horrified, seeing one drop of fresh blood among the rain drops descending on her beautiful white skin. He didn’t say anything, just catch her hand and threw away his knife which landed on the fluffy green carpet, splattering it with blood. Ivy didn’t even flinch when he did this. She kept looking in his melted-gold eyes searching for hope. He touched her cut and wiped the blood with his soft fingers, then took her hand and put it to his face, closing his eyes.
He had finnaly found what he was looking for. That life has a purpose.