TOUCH ME the feather disease

Finding my last guilt and never leave it!

noreply@hautetfort.com (Plume) — Sun, 09 Nov 2008 21:50:22 +0100

Guilt.

The guilt for me has the face of the damn asshole that I touch by accident one day, the face of the lady who put her hand on mine in the train, the face of this smily little boy who just wanted a hug. Guilt is my brother.

Your can hide the guilt but you can run away from it.

One day, the guilt was so strong in me that it begged me to stop feed it. Stop killing for nothing, for money, for the pleasure of this people which thing they’re God.

I was suffocated by guilt, like it was cutting my throat. So, i went to the living room, and i took a look at Maine, who was perfectly ready for the next murder trip into America and I told him, deeply : « It’s over. I will never kill again. ». He looked at me without surprise, blink his eyes and put his black glasses on. I tought he would argue, shouting, or else but he just stood there, looking at me, with his gun on his hand.

« Are you sure this time ? he asked me calmy.

- Of course I’m sure ! Like I know, now, that I’ll never got to my country, to my family, again.

- So, what you gonna do ? » I twas a evidence for me. I would go to the agency, stare to my bald boss with sadism on my face and tell him to get lost, without me. To go playing Frankenstein with another living thing toy. Maine put his gun down, came closer to me with a painful look. He seems embarassed.

« Honey, sweet little Plume…he told me, taking off his glove. The orgnisation will never let you go.

- They’ll have no choice. If they don’t, I’ll go to the police and say everything…all the murder for all the three years I spend here.

- Frenchie, you don’t get it, do you ? We’re police, secretly. We’re the gorvernement, the agency is like…

- FBI ?

- More complicated than that, but yes we’re a secret agency, like spys. How do you thing that you and me never had problem to go to all this states, all this places without being worried ?!

- So…I’m suppose to…exectuted order until they find a better killer than me ? Until they get bored of me ?

- No, you have to fight back.

- But how ? If I can’t tell anyone I…

- Kill me and run away ! he interrupted me. ». I was speakless. Killing Maine ? Did the man was just asking me to kill him, like that, for nothing ? I rather take my stuff and just go. But he sayed that if he stay alive, the agency would torture him, asked him where I could, because he was the only person I was close enough to give my trust. But I couldn’t kill him. It’s the only contract I couldn’t honor. He was my father and I told him…

« Your father ? Are you kidding ? Your just a job !

- Come on Maine, i answered, you love me a little, don’t you ?

- Loving you ? You’re a freaking monster ! Nobody could love you, people should tied you up in a cage and let drown to the sea ! ». I slapped him. He looked at me, surprise : « You kept your gloves on ?! his voice was sweater

- Biensûr ! You can say what you want, I’m not gonna hurt you !

- So, i’ll do it ! ». He closed his hand, and hit me on the face. Then, he falled down in pain. I sit by his side, taking his head between my hands. My right eyes was shaking in dolor. Maine was shivering. « Why did you do that ? Pourquoi ? I asked.

- The pain in your eye will be the pain out of you heart. I hit you, I’m a bad man and bad man have to die.

- Maine, tu n’es pas…evil ! I hated you for doing that !

- Well then like that your just have to take my money and run ! Vas-t-en Plume ! » he wispered before drop dead.

My eyes can’t stop crying, my heart felt cold. The answer hit me on the face. If I wanted to be free, I had to stay alone, to have nothing and nobody to loose. Maine sacrifice hisself for me, I had to make him proud. I had to get the hell out of Virginia, of Washington, to go to a place where they can’t find me without quitting united states, because they had my passport. So i packed my bag and take a Greyhound bus ticket, hoping for a desert holiday in the way of purgatory.

Blood

noreply@hautetfort.com (Plume) — Sun, 09 Nov 2008 21:49:02 +0100

Blood…running out of the vein, running out of the brain, running out of the pain…

I never used the blood for my murderers.

Never do, never will…

But, after all, the blood join the poison. Because poison roll into it. So after all, if poison is blood, blood is poison…don’t you think so ?

Evolution

noreply@hautetfort.com (Plume) — Sun, 24 Aug 2008 16:26:12 +0200

We’re all mean to be a part of the evolution.

The time move, we move with him.

No choice. Nature never let a place to choice.

So we follow the line of our way, until the end…

And end is never in a hurry !

After my ‘evolution’, I spend a lot of time lying in my bed, thinking about our horrible I became.

You know there is a difference between being bad and being cruel. I never thougth that I could be cruel, just desperate but from this time, I was up to be cruel. Because everytime that I would accept a contract, that I would touch somebody, I would become cruel.

I always felt a pain so intense from the moment I started to kil land this dolor, this suffer, I didn’t want somebody else to fell it.

Maine came and said : « You know, it just temporary. You’ll not be like that all you life.

Yeah I know ! I answered. One day, I’ll be dead too ! » And I leaft the room.

He couldn’t understand, nobody could !

So I stud up, looked the mirror and accetped it. I accepted the fact that I was a victim, witness of the decadent modern world. It wasn’t my fault after all !

Maybe God just tought that I’ll be better like that, better be worst !

I sat on my knees to fake praying and I smile : « Give me the strong to do what I have to do. Give me the strong to be what I have to be. Ainsi soit-il. Amen ».

Don’t say a pray for me know, save it for the morning after…

I joined Maine in the living room, looked at him and I said : « Who’s next ? ».

Cruelty, insanity, humanity, it doesn’t matter anymore. It never matter ! I was lost from the beginin’ and my evolution was just a mutation of salvation for me.

Better be worst!

noreply@hautetfort.com (Plume) — Wed, 23 Jul 2008 18:37:42 +0200

Of course, all the good things come to a end…

Maine came into my room in the Virginia State Springfield house we rented like normal person. He just told me calmly that we had to go to the agency (It was only few thousands miles away from our when we are not working home) for some test. I heard that they maybe found a antitode to my disease or, at worst, a way to slow it down.

For slow it down, it slow it down !!

But it certainly not worth the needdle !

I arrived in the agency’s lab and one of the scientist, doctor, i-dont-know-what-and-i-dont-want-to-know, ordered me to sit down on the chair and give him my arm. He pissed me off so hard that for one moment I thougtht to give him my middle finger instead. But I thought to my family, the one I did’nt see for almost one year, maybe two (at this moment I realised that I loose sense of time). What if…and I know with ‘if’ we can mettre Paris en bouteille…what if they finally cure my disease, my curse, and I could came back home to say, once again to my mom and dad that I was sorry and I’ll never touch my new brother, never ever, even if to kiss him or hug him ?! Hein ?

So, indeed, I straight my arm, take off my glove and wished secretly that the bastard over there touch my skin by accident before putting the needle inside my vein.

I must seems a very very bad person to you, with very very bad behavior, but…they made me ! And mother nature helped them ! I was a poison and I had this power in me, everywhere in me…the power to choose who’s gonna die and who’s not. I couldn’t love without hurting so why not started hating everyone in the world…its seemed for me easier.

When the liquid came into my blood, run into my body like a sweet sweet alcohol, I felt like a second living. A pearl of blood showed us it nose like to say ‘hello’ and another scientist smashed it in a tissue to analysed it. I looked at him like a little piece of shit. I knew my blood was infested, that if anybody else than me touch it he’ll be dead in the instant, but still…still it was just a little drop, a little tear of red pure deseperate. An dit was my blood ! I wanted a bandage with hello kitty, or the care bear like the kids, not a free experience without had to go to the blood donnor !

The first sientist showed me a cage with his fat finger : « Cary wathever is inside !

Oui chef ! » I answered. I stud up and came closer. Two beautiful bullets of silver looked at me, moving it small small nose…a rat ! « Open the rat and cary it ! ». I turned to the scientist, and the other ten or twenty person who surender me : « Are you insane ? I could kill him !
What the hell is wrong with you, frenchie ?! let escape the bald boss behind everyone. You killed hundred of people for us and you refuse to touch a rat ! A vil, dirty…
Take it easy, will you ! I stopped him. First : the hell is certainly with me from the begining, right…secondly : the wrong with me is you !...and third : a rat is a noble animal, very interesting and its not because he can’t speak that his dumber than you ! I have more consideration for him that I have for you !
You need to touch him to be sure that the antidote work, honey ! wispered Maine, coming next to me, putting his hand on my sweater.
But why I can’t touch one of this helpless and useless parasites ?!
Because it’ll be a federal crime !
But murderer animal is not a crime as much as killing innocent, let me laugh, human ?
Not a labolatory pet, sweat heart ! You know, you have two choice : we can go and you came live with the doubt until you accendtly touch somebody again, or you can sacrifice the poor rat here, not for science, not for them, not even for me, but to know ! And you want to know, don’t you ?
I do. ». I opened the cage, apologize to the rat and took him between my fingers. He looked at me, tried to bite me but after few seconds, he was still alive. I turned to Maine, ready to run into his arms for my victory when I felt that the litlle heart in my hand stopped to beat. Ratatouille was not dead yet, but he looked in a great pain. His breathing was harder and harder, I couldn’t believe it. It was worst than before !! Because from now, now…my touch was not only deadful but painful too.

I took a quick look at the dead animal in the palm of my hand like if it was a broken porcelain dol land I trew it in the observation group in my back : « Abrutie ! Vous faites tout de travers ma parole !! ». I put my gloves on, chased the cries in my eyes and walked thru the room. All the scientist moved apart like the red sea with Moise.

I heard someone asking Maine the translation, but he only said : « Find a better trick next time, gentlemen ! » and he ran after me.

He put carefuly his hand on my back. He was up to speak when I let it explosed, this bomb inside my bloody brain : « Ne me touche pas ! Never again ! I don’t want you to touch me, I didn’t want to kill you and now, from now…putain de merde ! I don’t want you to suffer ! I didn’t want to…je ne voulais pas faire souffrir !

Breath honey…its not the first human mistake you know…take a break ! Ok…On va où tu veux !
Why don’t we go to heaven you and me ? Main dans la main au milieu des anges ? Hum ?! ». And I just asked him to leave me alone for few minutes because I knew he could not leave me alone too long…I was a too much interesting inverstement.

Maine.

noreply@hautetfort.com (Plume) — Fri, 30 May 2008 02:49:00 +0200

I started a marathon of deads in four years.

With Maine, we crossed all the United States just to kill a bunch of people. He never told me why the agency wanted me to touch this people and not another, and I never asked.

Once in Las Vegas, he just help me to fit into a Lido style dancer costum, without the topless and tong type, he pushed me on stage after colored my hair in a kind of pink and he just said : « Two steps on the right, three on the left, you turn, you touch the lady in front of you and you come back in pas chassé…you get it ? Tu as compris ?! ». I nodded, and I proved by doing it.

Maine was my dark absolut master. If he told me jump out of this bridge, now !, I would done it ! Just like that !

We became a old couple, Bonnie and Clyde without the sexualty. I was the shooter, he was the driver. I was very close to him but in some opposite way, far enough to not cross the line a seconde time.

With him, my crimes had taste of challenge. Because his glances always asked me if I was going to put off, with cynicism ! Bloody bastard !!

« I don’t think I can do it here, now…everybody look at us !! » I told him once when we were walking thru in Time Square, in the middle of a crowd. « Nobody look at us, nobody cares in New York ! Calm down, feather !! he answered me in a agressive whisper.

- Don’t call me feather !! I have a name !

- When you are working, you have no name…Feather !

- Va te faire foutre!

- Not today honey ! » and then, he slap my butt with his big black fat male hand. I turned and look at him, with rage. « I have no gloves…don’t push me !

- Or what ? Tu vas me tuer ?!

- I could, dear…avec juste un doigt ! » and I pointed my middle red nail finger to his attention. I looked around. Nobody noticed it. A white girl figthing verbaly with a black man…If none of us scream, nobody should care, not in New York, not in Los Angeles either…not of people business. Finally, I decided to take care of mine. Maine undestood that, he felt the moment when I was ready to work at least.

When you got a job to do, you got to do it well…

« Leave and let die ! » he yelled a little when I started moving over. Surprised ! Like he read my thoughts. But I was in the mood for the last sentence before the acomplishement of my destiny. « I promise, I’ll let you die, crétin !

- I have you word ! ». I smiled, he smiled. A insane father, with his sociopath daughter playing base ball in the middle of the dream come true country. It gave me strongness to bite the big Apple, again. I walked straight, high head, moved my ass like a nympho (thanks to Nelly Furtado) and brushed the uncover hand of my target. Smoothly, gently, deadly. I was far in front, Maine was far in back, when the beautiful young man, that I touched, fell down in the middle of the street of the indifferent empire state capital.

I stopped by a hot dog peddler, the only good street hot dog in the United State, asked innocently for a pretzel, no cigarett in public during the day because I was still too young for that and I stared at the ambulance lights with a pity face. My target had the skin so sweet, it was torture to still feel him on my arsh dry hand. Maine joined me and told the peddler that the check was on him. Liar !!

I’ll pay the check for that one day…not so far from now, I know !

But at this moment, in the shopping city, I was just glad to have somebody holding my shoulder, someone who let me put my head on his chest (I learned accidentaly that my hair was not infected, a kind of strange miracle) and walked like I have someone I can use when I want, at least, feel more human. He was still nice and patient with me even after I killed another non consentante person. He played with my bad temper for my pleasure. He called me his contagious princess.

I learned to love him without desire him, without wanted to touch him…I never ever, not a second, wished to touch his sugar chocolate paternel skin. He impressed me to much to even think about falling in love with my mentor, and I was too dangerous for him to forget himself in mine.

Crash

noreply@hautetfort.com (Plume) — Fri, 23 May 2008 15:13:00 +0200

It’s the sense of touch

Any really city, you walk, you know ?

You brush past people. People bump into you.

In L.A nobody touches you.

We’re always behind this metal and glass.

I think we miss that touch so much that we crash into each other just so we can feel something.

You’re don’t think that’s true ?

First words in the Paul Haggis movie.

I'm just a kill machine and I don't work for nobody but...everybody!!

noreply@hautetfort.com (Plume) — Tue, 20 May 2008 18:24:00 +0200

My first contract was the more easy and stupid one. Maine introduce me to my victim, I shook his hand and bam…nobody’s home !!

The power in my hand hit me but never hurt me anymore.

Say hello to the girl that I am !!

I remember most of my crimes like a game I played.

One day, I came into a little town in the middle of the Utah american state. Alone. I knew that my target was a pedophile never catch by police, not enough evidences, and I counted in my sixteen years old appearance, even if I was eigtheen, to entice him. A flowerfull dress, my hair in a blond wig (hey ! I was a secret murder agent so I could acting like Jane Bond !) and a lolly pop in my mouth…It was eleven o’clock. I walked to him with tears on my eyes (I already teached you how to do it), Maine was in the car, waiting. I took time to get wet under the rain first, I really wanted to be good actress, to have pleasure in cold hand murder.

« Lost ». I told him with my worst accent. I saw shiny sparkles in his pervers eyes. Getcha !

He by-passed his counter and approched me, paternaly. « You’re frozen little thing ! he said. Follow me I have some towels in the defer room ! » and he put gently his arm around my shoulders, touching it delicatly. One second, two second…he fell down, straight…dead !!

I looked at him, smiling : « Sucker !! ». Then I went to the counter, opened it, took two paquet of cigarettes and ran outside. Get into the car, the lights was still on, burnt a stick of death and told Maine calmly : « Done. Start the car !

- Did you kill him ?

- Yep.

- Don’t you know what cigarette will kill you ?! ». I didn’t answer, kept looking the passenger window. « Plume, do you here me ? M’entends tu ? Eteins cette cigarette !

- No, Maine, no. Je tue, je fume, je bois. I kill, I smoke…

- I get it…but I don’t want you to smoke ! Tu es toujours mineur ici !

- T’as de la chance que je sois pas bourrée !!

- Bourrée ?

- Drunk ! You’re lucky I’m not drunk !! Give me a break, I just killed a man !!

- A bad man !

- Still a man…j’ai tué un homme…

- Tu t’y feras ! You’ll get use to it !

- I know, je sais…c’est bien le problème…

- What ?

- I already don’t care about killing !

- I’m sorry for you !

- Come on ! C’est des conneries !

- Conneries ?

- Maine ! Do you really understand french ? Do you ?!

- We don’t learn familiar language ! Only, the best…jeune demoiselle !

- Bullshits ! Conneries !!

- Why ? Pourquoi ?

- PAR-CE-QUE…because, the agency wants me to kill, sans remords ! Now, I know why they wanted to help me…Ils voulaient pas m’aider les salops…and don’t ask me the meaning of salop !

- I know this one, thanks…They really try to find a antidote !!

- I know…but still…still I’m just a experience…juste une putain d’experience…

- Come on, sweetie…

- How could you be so kind and work for them ? Je comprends pas !

- How could you be so pretty and so dangerous ? Life is like it is ! C’est comme ça !

- Can we stop speak about it…please…

- Why don’t you sleep a little bit ?!

- Yep, a murder, a cigarette, and a nap…my life suck !

- Think about something else…like poney !

- Maine, j’ai pas dix ans merde ! I’m not a kid !

- Until you’re twenty one, you’re my kid !! Je vais prendre soin de toi, ok ?

- Got no choice ! Anyway…good night…

- Don’t let the bugs…

- Oh, shut up mommy ! ». I opened my window and throw up the cigarette…in fact, I never like it but it was nervous. After a bad thing, I needed another, less worst, just to feel the smoke in my body…just feeling bruning inside and outside…just to get close to hell…step by step…

I’m coming Satan, keep me a sit on you left side !!

*TOUCH ME* the feather disease