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Then Trevor lowered his head and sank his teeth deep into the ridge of muscle between Zach's neck and shoulder。
The pain was immediate； huge； hot。 Zach felt fresh blood trickling over his collarbone and down his chest； felt muscle fibers twist and rip； heard himself screaming； then sobbing。 He tried to drive his elbow back into Trevor's chest； but Trevor had his arms clamped tightly to his sides。 He tried to kick； and Trevor lifted him off his feet and dragged him into the bathroom。
He's taking me to his hell； Zach thought； and he's going to eat me there； he's going to rip me apart looking for the magic inside me； and he won't find it。 Then he'll fulfill the condition of the loop； he'll kill himself。 What a stupid program。
Trevor kicked the door shut。 The tiny room was dark but for the fragments of mirror in the tub； which seemed to suck in light； infect it with noisome colors and send it swirling back over the leprous walls and ceiling。 The sink was stained black with blood。 Zach wondered if the e was there too； dried to a translucent scale。
The pain in his shoulder ebbed a little。 Zach stopped struggling。 He felt dizzy； remote。 Trevor's hold on him was shoving his ribs up and crushing them inward； making it difficult to breathe。 He was going to die right now。 These sensations of pain and disconnection were the last he would ever feel； these fleeting； panicky thoughts the last he would ever have。
Stupid fucking program 。 。 。
Then Trevor slammed him into the wall face first； and Zach grayed out pletely。
Yielding flesh in his hands； hot with fear； sticky with sweat and blood and already smelling of heaven。 Helpless bones his to crack； helpless skin his to rip open； sweet red river his to drink from。 He had to do it。 He had to know。 With his eyes and his hands； with all his body； he had to see。
Trevor shoved Zach into the space between the toilet and the sink； his space。 He clawed at Zach's chest with his fingernails； ripped furrows in that smooth white skin。 Blood sparkled on his hands； sprayed across his face。 He pushed his mouth into the spray； lapped at it； then tore at the skin with his teeth。 It was easy。 It was right。 It was beautiful。
Zach's hands came up and tried to push Trevor's head away； but there was no strength left in them。 Trevor slid him farther back into the corner； into the cobwebs； felt tiny multi…legged things skittering away。 He ran his tongue over the long shallow wounds his fingernails had made on Zach's chest。 They tasted of salt and copper； of life and knowledge。
He stroked the concavity of Zach's stomach。 All the body's bountiful secrets； cradled between the pelvis and the spine。 He would sink his hands in to the wrists； to the elbows。 He would reach up under the rib cage and make the heart beat with his fingers。 He would find the source of life and swallow it whole。
〃Trev？〃 said Zach。 His voice was weak； paper…thin； barely there。 〃Trevor？ I can't fight you。 But if you're gonna kill me； please tell me why。〃
Trevor closed his teeth on Zach's earlobe and pulled at it； wondered how the soft little mass of flesh would feel going down his throat。 〃Why what？〃
〃Why pain is better than love。 Why you'd rather kill me for the thrill of it than try to have a life with me。 I thought you were brave； but this is some pretty cowardly shit。〃
Tears were trickling down the side of Zach's face； into the fine hair at his temples。 Trevor traced their salty path to the corner of Zach's eye； flicked his tongue over the lid； then sucked softly at the eyeball。 It would burst in his mouth like a bonbon。 He wondered if that amazing green would taste of mint。
〃To see everything；〃 Zach whispered； 〃you have to be alive。 If you do this to me； you're gonna die too。 Tell me you're not。〃
Maybe he was。 Of course he was。 But hadn't he always known this would be the last panel； the crucifixion and conflagration； the way his life was supposed to end？ And wouldn't it be worth it？
But suddenly Trevor remembered something Bobby had said to him in the other room； in the other house。 Birdland is a machine oiled with the blood of artists。
He looked down at Zach。 Blood had run down over Zach's face in thick black rivulets from a wound in his scalp。 Blood leaked from his nostrils and his torn mouth。 He had a lurid purple knot on one shoulder； an encrusted bite mark on the other。 His chest was crisscrossed with furious red scratches。 Where it wasn't cut or bruised； his skin was absolutely white。 His eyes held Trevor's。 His expression hovered somewhere between terrified and serene。
〃Whatever you want；〃 said Zach。 〃It's up to you。〃
The words jarred Trevor pletely from his dream of rending flesh； of crawling inside the body to find its secrets。 Because it wasn't just a body； he realized。 It wasn't a puzzle or an anatomy lesson or a source of mystical knowledge； it was Zach。 The beautiful boy he had watched strutting and moaning onstage tonight； smartass and criminal anarchist and generous soul； his best friend； his first lover。 Not a box of toys to tear apart； not a rare delicacy to rip open and devour still steaming。
And Zach was right。 Whatever Trevor did next would be his own choice； and he would have to live with it until he died； even if that was only a matter of minutes。 And if he died； would he go to Birdland？ He thought of Bobby； alone with those two broken bodies forever。 What if Trevor ended up in his own house； trapped with his own dead？
Yet Bobby had put the hammer in his hand and told him to go find out what it felt like。
Trevor imagined a crisp new autopsy report： Zachary Bosch； transient； 19 yrs 。 。 。 Cause of death： blunt trauma； exsanguination； evisceration 。 。 。 Manner of death： Murder 。 。 。
Was that what his father considered art these days？ Or was Birdland thirsty for blood to grease its cogs？
He shoved himself off Zach； out of the cramped space between sink and toilet。 He stared at his hands； and for a moment he thought they were slicked with Zach's blood； that he had sunk them deep into Zach's insides； that he had really done it； and woken up too late。 If I have any talent； any gift left at all； he heard his father saying； it's in you now。
Fuck that； he thought。 I'm not doing your dirty work。
He turned away from Zach and stepped into the bathtub。 Broken glass gritted and scraped beneath his bare feet。 Trevor stared down into the fragments of mirror； into the swarming light。 〃I won't do it；〃 he said。 〃I don't need to know what it feels like。 I don't need to draw it。 I can live it。〃
He made his right hand into a fist and drove it straight through the wall。
The damp old plaster splintered； sifted away； disintegrated beneath his knuckles。 It hadn't hurt at all。 He wanted it to hurt； he wanted the pain he had been so ready to inflict on Zach。
He fell to his knees and began slamming his fist again and again into the hard porcelain； into the broken glass。
Zach thought he heard a bone crack in Trevor's hand。 He tried to push himself up。 His head felt numb and leaden； his vision blurry。 He could not get off the floor to go to Trevor。
So； with the last of his strength；