嗜血玫瑰。爱与恨的消逝与滋生。

　　Sanguine Rose. 嗜血玫瑰。——关于爱与恨的消逝与滋生。

　　 

　　主要讲一个少女杀手的纠结故事。英文是精华。汉语指为了理解。

　　同样为一贯的哥特风格，与《红琥珀》为姊妹篇。虽然是完全不同的故事。

　　红琥珀：https://www.zww.cn/zuowen/html/27/184007.htm

　　 

　　 

　　    Sanguine Rose

　　 

　　The very first time I felt hatred burning in my chest was when Darcy, the guy next door broke my beloved Barbie and wrote all over her face. He pulled off every stripe of her hair, stabbed open her plastic guts, and ripped her fancy dress to rags. It was a feeling I couldn’t let out with language, I sprang off crying like hell.

　　That night I dreamed of the Barbie, wounded from head to toe, groaning in pain. “Tell me I’m still pretty.” She asked me in my dream; it was a thing Barbies normally ask. I was of course too horrified to speak, but nodded vaguely. She then stared me an evil stare, for a moment I thought I was cursed. “Rose,” she said, “I want you to have eyes like crystal night, a smile that lights up a whole room, and a heart that welcomes all.” She paused, staring at my long hair almost jealously. “Just like I was.” Something about the way she interpreted it make me uneasy, as if I was possessed.

　　I used to name the Barbie rose, I guess that was what made us connected, in some sort of twisted way. But I have always loved her, more than I have loved anyone. Now that she was gone, my love was gone.

　　The other morning Darcy came back with a brand new Barbie his mom forced him to buy, handed me unwillingly, and pleaded for my forgiveness. I knew it was all drama, for his mama to see so he wouldn’t get in trouble. I slapped him across the face; he almost fell to the concrete ground. He stared at me wide-eyed, in shock. I screamed and yelled, even kicked a little. The message was I never wanted to see him again. And I never did.

　　Because that night while he fell dead asleep I climbed though the open windows, carefully not to touch every inch of air wave. The poor guy had no idea. No idea how I sneaked up on him, how I’d stuck a shining blade into his spine. He let out a sound with one final stroke, but it was too small to be heard. My face was splashed was another being’s blood, it felt warm. A kind of warmth I’d never have in any other way. Blood soaked from his shirt and spread slowly on his pure blanket. I felt like a rose being watered, and that I’d live on and on. I left my ruined Barbie beside Darcy, just in case he got lonely while being dead.

　　It took me some effort to pull the blade back out, it was stuck to his bone. Scraping off the white frame I managed to let lose. It left a deep mark on his body, a mark that matched my blade, almost like a piece of puzzle or a key hole. I was quick at getting home without anyone noticing. Besides, no one ever notices me anyways; as if I was invisible to them all year long. I hid the blade in my giant jewelry box and got rid of the bloody clothes. There was nothing to fear, I had only done what I needed to. I was then seven. 

　　But the hatred wasn’t gone; it somehow grew inside me like a pot of boiling monster blood, sticky and gross, with an enormous appetite to swallow all my feelings, digesting what’s left of my humanity.

　　I knew it wasn’t over.

　　I continued with my wreck of hatred. The guilt for being cruel didn’t increase as the number of lives I’ve taken did, nor did my hatred reduce. I once strangled a middle aged woman with a gentle smile that I met in the subway and followed home to. It was then I felt a tint of guilt. I knew it for my hands trembled, which it normally wouldn’t. She reminded me so much of my mother, my biological mother who died early. I remember her from my blurry past, when I was still an innocent kid. But I had to kill her, she reminded me too much of the one I love. And I hate to love, it made me feel weak.

　　  Days passed and I lived without guilt. The local news paper mentioned of these murders a couple of times. And the police department have been putting the innocent in jail, you know how polices are. For the ones they couldn’t find anyone to blame for, they simply assumes its suicide or accidental death. No one ever suspected me. Who would blame a cute innocent girl like me, with the name rose, eyes like crystal night, a smile that lights up a whole room, and a heart that welcomes all?

　　There are things to keep me awake at nights, all those thoughts, they get into my mind, and they drive me crazy. But I wasn’t, I had to remain calm. For I cared about nothing in the world and nothing cared about me. I stared up at the ceiling and it was like my life. There was nothing there anymore, except emptiness and hate.

　　As I said, I hate to love, so I loved to hate. I learned so fast, to hate everything, everything that I touch.

　　Until one day I turned my eyes to the ones I was supposed to love, but never did.

　　I was fifteen when my father married some old woman strip club. He was nothing but a bag of old bones wanting fresh meat. Her name was Tiffany, a pretty bitchy name huh? She was nothing but an old bitch wanting some cash. So they made a perfect couple. Tiffany brought Casey to live with us, too. She’s a girl my age, except that she’s a sassy wannabe, always bossing others around. No one thought about me. I didn’t need them to care for me, because I will just hate them all the same.

　　Right after dinner one day Casey called me to our back yard. We had a few talks, it was nice. I mean, to talk to people. But I knew she never like me, until I found out she just want me to hook up with this guy she dumped so he wouldn’t bother her anymore. Of course I had to reject. I didn’t like to pick up her leftovers; I would hunt my own prey. She looked kind of upset and left. I couldn’t do it, no matter how hard I try to please them, they wouldn’t like me. It’s who I am, and it’s in my blood.

　　Dad died months after getting married. Tiffany told me and the police that he had a heart stroke while they were in bed. “He was getting old.” She said. And the police didn’t give a damn about the case. Though I knew Tiffany was after the money, I didn’t unravel her scheme. With her help, I wouldn’t have to do it myself. Dad was already on my list, she was too. Everyone I knew was.

　　They did not move out, I mean the evils in my life. I knew no long I’d be driven out from home by the ugly stepmothers and sisters as in a fairy tale, only that I did not have a prince charming waiting outside. So I chose the perfect time to act, to finish what I’ve started. Casey was in the bathtub, with bubbles all around her. She talked to the rubber duckie as if that was me; she swore and cussed, acting like an idiot. She was so into her own drama that she didn’t notice when I entered. She didn’t even have time to scream as I calmly ripped her throat open. Blood diffused into the bubbly water; it was all pink, blossoming as it spreads. Almost, like a rose.

　　I came downstairs to meet Tiffany’s cold stare.

　　“Where’s Casey?” She asked. “Get her for me.”

　　“In the bathtub.” I replied. “She wouldn’t come. So I brought back a souvenir. Her pretty head.”

　　I revealed the head as I approach.

　　Tiffany practically pounded, grabbing for the phone. “Don’t come near.” She screamed. “I’m calling the police.”

　　I stared down at her horrified face, for a moment I nearly felt sorry for her. But I knew I could never have emotions like that, all I had was hate.

　　“Dead meats don’t talk.” I told her.

　　And it was over for her.

　　The hatred didn’t go way. And I didn’t turn myself in to the police. Instead, I chose to meet Jason at the coffee bar down town. He’s the one Casey was trying to set me up with, and even though I rejected, it might be still worth a try. So we met, he seemed like a nice guy. But he means nothing to me, just like all the rest. He’s too much of a goody-goody, and I knew deep down that I will have to finish him someday in my life.

　　Even if it will hurt to harm.

　　Even if it will hurt to heal.

　　Spikes are what make the roses strong. Hate is what makes me strong.

　　Jason would have never suspected me. For I have eyes like crystal night, a smile that lights up a whole room, and a heart that welcomes all.

 

　　 

　　 

 

 

    嗜血玫瑰。

 

　　我第一次感到憎恨在胸中燃烧是当隔壁的男孩达西将我的芭比娃娃毁坏并在她脸上涂画的时候。他把她每一根头发都拔掉，扎透了塑料肠肚，把她的裙子撕成了碎布条。那种感觉无法用言语表达，我只能哭着跑开了。

　　那晚我梦见芭比，从头到脚体无完肤，痛苦地呻吟。“告诉我我还很漂亮。”她在梦里对我说，这是句芭比经常问的话。当然我太恐惧不敢说话，只是含糊地点点头。她邪恶地盯着我看了两眼，我竟以为自己被诅咒。“玫瑰，”她说“我想让你拥有水晶夜晚般的眼睛，照亮整间房子的微笑，还有一颗善待别人的心。”她停顿，几乎嫉妒地看着我的长发。“像我曾经那样。”是她讲说的方式让我感到很不安，有些神魂颠倒的感觉。

　　我曾给芭比起名为玫瑰，和我一样的名字，我想这就是使我们相连的东西，从某种扭曲的意义上来讲。但我一直很爱她，胜过任何人。现在她去了，我的爱也跟着去了。

　　第二天早上达西带着一个他妈妈逼迫他买的新芭比娃娃来了，很不情愿地交给我，请求我的原谅。我知道他在演戏，演给他妈看表示他是知错就改的好孩子。我还是打了他一个耳光；他几乎摔在水泥地上。抬头用不可思议的眼神看我，完全震撼住了。我叫喊踢打。表达的意思就是我不想再见到他。事实上我也再没有。

　　因为那天晚上他睡得死死的时候我从开着的窗户爬进来，小心不触碰任何波动的空气。那可怜的人什么也不知道，不知道我是如何从背后悄悄偷袭，如何将锋利的刀插入他的脊背。最后一次袭击他发出了点声音，但也不够让别人警觉。我的脸上沾满了别人的血，很暖，一种我从其他方式无法取得的温暖。血液从他的内衣渗透出来，浸湿雪白的被单。我像一朵被浇灌的玫瑰，获得永远的青春。我将那被他毁坏的芭比留在他床边，以防他死后感到孤独。

　　把刀拔出来倒是费了我许些力气，几乎卡在了骨头上。刮去一些白沫之后我才得以让刀松一些。在达西的身体上留下了很深，与我的刀完全吻合的痕，好像一个拼图，或者一把钥匙和钥匙孔。我很快到家并没人注意。其实从来就没有人注意过我，一年到头我都好似隐形人。我将刀器藏在大首饰盒里并处理掉了血渍。我没有什么可害怕的，因为我只做了我该做的。那年我七岁。

　　但是那愤恨的感觉并没有消失，却在我体内像一坛子沸腾的恶魔血液一样，粘粘的很恶心，有着巨大的食欲，仿佛要将我的所有情感吞噬，咀嚼着我余下的人性。

　　我知道事情并没有结束。

　　我继续发泄着我的恨。罪恶感并没有随着我夺去生命的数量的增加而增加，我心中堆攒的愤懑也并没有减少。一次我勒死了一个拥有慈爱面目的中年妇女，我从地铁跟到她家动手。那时我才感到那么一点点不安，因为我的手颤抖了，而通常这是不会发生的。她让我想起我早去的生母。我还能够从朦胧的过去中记得她，当我还是个无辜的孩子时。但我必须杀她，她让我想起太多有关我爱的一切。而我讨厌去爱，使我感到脆弱。

　　时间这样过去而我不感到罪恶。当地的新晚报纸也仅有一两次报道这些谋杀案。警察部门一直都是将无辜的人送入监狱，警察们都是这样。对于那些无法找到替罪羊的案件，他们只能声称此案为自杀或意外伤亡。没有人怀疑我。谁会怀疑一个像我这样的无辜小女孩，名字为玫瑰，有着水晶夜晚般的眼睛，照亮整间房子的微笑，和一颗善待每一个人的心？

　　夜晚降临总有一些事情促使我清醒，所有的思绪，都一起挤进我的脑子里，让我发疯。但我不会疯，我必须平静。因为我什么也不在乎也没人在乎我，一直是这样的。看着天棚就像看着我的生命，再也没有什么，除了空虚和愤恨。

　　像我说的那样，我憎恨去爱别人，所以我爱上了去恨别人。我很快就学会了恨每一件事物，恨所有我触碰过的东西。

　　直到有一天我将目光转移到那些我应该爱却从来没爱的人身上。

　　我父亲和一个脱衣舞俱乐部的老女人结婚的时候我十五岁。他除了想要嫩肉的一袋子老骨头以外什么也不是。她的名字叫蒂芙妮，听起来挺贱的吧？而她除了一个想要现金的婊子以外更什么也不是。蒂芙妮将凯西带来和我们一起住。她是一个年龄和我一样的女孩，除了她是一个美丽的完美者，永远对别人指手画脚。没有人考虑我，我也不需要任何人在乎我，因为我只会照样一如既往地恨她们。

　　有一天晚饭后凯西叫我去后花园谈话。我们聊了聊，还算友好吧。我只是喜欢有人跟我说话而已。但我知道她从来就没喜欢过我，因为我很快就发现她的目的了。她想让我和一个被她甩掉的男生勾搭上，这样那人就不会去烦她了。我当然没有同意，不想要捡她的残羹，要去捕捉自己的猎物。她有些失望的离开了。我不能按照被告知的那样做，再怎么努力去使他们满足也是徒劳。因为我就是那个别人不喜欢的我，是融在我的血液里的。

　　父亲在结婚之后的几个月间突然去世。蒂芙妮对警察对我说是他是在床上犯了心脏病猝死。“他变老了。”她解释。警察再没对此案过问。尽管我知道蒂芙妮是为了那钱，但我不想拆穿她的阴谋。有了她的帮忙，我就不用自己动手了。父亲已经在握的名单上，她也是。所有我认识的人都是。

　　我生命中的那些邪恶人物没有搬走。我知道不久我就会被赶出家门，就像童话里讲的那样，被邪恶的后妈和后姐姐排挤出去，只是门外没有白马王子等着我。所以我选择了良时准备动手，结束我所开始的东西。凯西在浴室里泡澡，周尾全是肥皂泡泡。她对着胶皮鸭子自言自语，假装那是我。她又骂又诅咒，完全像个疯子一样。她演戏太投入以至于我进去的时候她都全然不知。她还没来得及叫喊，我早已将她的喉咙抛开。血液渗透扩散到浴缸的泡泡水里面；一片粉红，绽放着。几乎，像一朵玫瑰。

　　我下楼面对蒂芙妮冰冷的眼神。

　　“凯西呢？”她问。“帮我叫她来一下。”

　　“在浴盆里。”我回复。“她不肯来。所以我给你带来了纪念品——她美丽的头颅。”

　　我一边揪起来指给她看一边靠近。

　　蒂芙妮完全失控，狂乱地抓着电话。“别过来。”她尖叫。“不然我报警了。”

　　我低头看着她扭曲的面孔，曾有几分之一秒我感到愧疚。但我知道我不可能拥有那类情感，我只有恨。

　　“死尸不会讲话。”我告诉她。

　　她就这样结束了。

　　可那恨的感觉还是没有消失，我也并没有去警察局自首。我选择去城里的咖啡厅去见杰森。他就是凯西试图给我介绍的那位，尽管我拒绝，但想来想去还是可以尝试一下。就这样我们见面了，他看起来人不错。但对我来说什么也不是，就像所有其他人一样。他太完美了，我完全知晓有一天我也会对他做同样的事情。

　　即使伤害别人会疼痛。

　　即使用时间疗伤也会疼痛。

　　刺使玫瑰更坚强。恨别人让我感觉更坚强。

　　杰森不会怀疑我。因为我有水晶夜晚般的眼睛，照亮整间屋子的微笑，和一颗善待每一个人的心。