Poppa said I can’t see him. Said I’m too young. So I am under the pagoda at the park, waiting for him away from the house, where Poppa can’t see.

I think it’s because he has a fast car, the real reason that Poppa won’t let me go with him. Daddy had a fast car once. I’ve seen pictures of it in “black and whites” of him and Momma when they were young, when they were my age, in fact, fifteen and sixteen.

I hear the fast car before I see it. It rumbles the pagoda beneath me. I can feel it in my chest, that rumble. It is frightening, and thrilling.

He pulls the car up over the curb, into the grass, pulling it up to the very steps of the pagoda. A hard, tanned arm reaches across to push open the door. “Come on!” He is smiling. It is a wild smile. He is a wild boy. I skitter down the steps and into the passenger seat. I am a wild girl.

The car smells of leather, gasoline and tobacco, of “boy things.” It smells like Poppa. The exhaust is strong. My head grows light until he pulls ever-so-gently off of the curb. and onto the pavement before accelerating onto the highway.

Momma is gone. I have left my little sister at my friend Celia's. I am only hoping that Caroline won’t mention it to Poppa. I have threatened her with death in fact, but she will probably tell anyways, at which point I will kill her, as promised. Caroline is five years old. Momma died when she was born. Caroline is my life, and my world. I won’t “really” kill her.

TJ is doing the 50 MPH speed limit, but the wind whips inside the car so that speaking is difficult. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I yell to him over the roars of engine and wind.

TJ smiles. “I can take you back.”

“No! I don’t want to go back! Say, I thought this car was supposed to be fast?”

TJ doesn’t look over at me this time. These are the exact words he has longed to hear. He pushes the accelerator closer to the floor. The Coupe did what it does. The rough, slower idle smooths out as firing pistons machine gun the car forward. Inertia pushes me back into my seat. I glance nervously at TJ. He is smiling, his eyes on the road, elbows bent, his left hand easy on the steering wheel. A glance at the speedometer shows 85 MPH. TJ looks over at me. I wish he would look at the road, instead. “You good,” he asks?

I give him my most wicked smile.

TJ slams the accelerator to the floor this time. I close my eyes and shout with delight, “WOOOOHOOOOOO!” It is like TJ is Aladdin, and we are on a magic ride. We fly over hills, butterflies tickling nervous stomachs that are never quite sure what is over the next rise. There is danger in the speed, and there is freedom in the danger. For the first time in my life there is no adult to tell me to slow down, no little sister crying beside me, calling my name. With closed eyes, hands gripping the dash, roaring engines and hot winds whirling around me I feel an exhiliration I have never experienced. I want to hold on to this feeling, this euphoria, forever. At this moment I do not even care if the car crashes. I do not care about anything but the thrill of being young, and unafraid. TJ is taking the sharpest turns at incredible speeds. I hold tight to the dash to keep from being thrown into his lap. Finally he lets off the throttle. I sense his body relaxing. His downshifting pushes me to the front of my seat. I remembered the same sensation, the same forgotten disappointment I had felt as a young girl when the carnival ride was winding down, the excitement ending, the ride over.

And there was something else building... an uncertainty. “What was this strange new yearning inside me? Was it the boy I wanted? Or was it his fast car?”

Among fallen flowers

of outlived time

behold a lady

flesh upon flesh

heady and fresh

penetrating depths

opening her pores

glistening skin

to enfold him therein

layered shadows

of abstract depths

displayed before him

breezing through life

tossled hair

not a care

thistle in air

umbrella of life

tossed to the sky

watch her fly

seagull in flight

woman of night

hanging on stars

perpetrator of lust

prayed he

freedom of toes

prances own way

lose her, afraid he

slightly south of shady

this spirited lady

Give me her wind

to dance, prayed he

milady, my Katie

a brewing storm

cavorting in darkness

and light churning

convulses through

inner glow profanely

undulating in sweet water

of tidal life

splayed she

screaming emotions

in savage wind, so racy

his passion

arrayed he

zany thoughts

of passion gayety

grasping on to her

with slippery fingers

vaguely, vainly

can’t trap her spirit

water through fingers

catching her stardust

taking her body

gamely, gaily

hourly, daily

essence of incense

dispensed to intense

suspense of her presence

caged ambivalence

permeates soul

beckons him

threatens reason

pleasing, teasing

seizing, squeezing

robustly wade in

shady lady

degrade he

played he

raid he

symmetry of

sweet bones

bravely, sagely

behold his lady.

.

After 2 a.m. Dark as only a night can be in the city, flashy and filled with orange street lamps and the sounds of traffic. The inside of the room seems empty at first, the only light coming from an open laptop, the screen coloring the space in electric blue. Bare feet tap low against the cold tiles and then the wooden floor. She’s coming from the kitchen, a glass with amber liquid filled in half. It’s warm, she has no ice and the night is hot. She’s wearing a thin sleeveless shirt and just the underwear. It doesn’t really matter, she’s alone in the flat anyway. She’s almost always is. Sitting down on a low leather sofa, she stares at the lighted screen and the cursor blinks, marking the beginning of an empty page.

No title, no words, but a lot of heavy frustration mixed with numbness. She takes a sip of her drink, it’s bitter and burns the throat, yet she enjoys it that way, just as bitter and unsatisfying as life itself. Another look at the screen, the cursor still blinking, mocking her lousy existence of a low paid writer.

As if she had written anything good this past year. One book on the shelf and that’s it, the money from it long gone. Crappy apartment and a lot of bills to pay. That’s how her life looks now, and that’s why she writes for the newspaper; short articles about pretty much anything, marked with sarcasm and worldly opinions, but people seemed to enjoy it enough that she still could work there. Pretending that this was a just temporary job while she writes something new. All lies to fill the growing void. Always lies and nothing more. Temporary. Such a comforting word in a pointless existence. Another sip, a big one that almost empties the glass. Damn, it was so hot in this dump. The humidity terrorizing to end her soon if she didn’t do anything about it, the air conditioning just moving the heavy and sticky air in circles. Pointless. And speaking about that - she fills the sweat under her shirt, the material clinging to her skin. She moans in exasperation, finishes her drink and heads to the bathroom. Taking off the little clothes she had still on and sinks into the bathtub. It’s filled with cold water, almost to the brim.

It’s not the first time that she has done this tonight or this day for that matter. She sinks her body under the water until she seems to disappear into it. Just a faint shape in the darkness, the cold caressing her skin, soothing her heated thoughts and mind. Her hands hold the side of the tub while her body starts to squirm, lungs starting to beg for oxygen. She fights it at first, not willing to give up all too easy, the pressure in her chest growing, a heavy rock pinning her down, while a burning sensation, threats to make her lungs explode. Her brain is counting the seconds, thoughts blurring. One more moment, just one more. She resurfaces, the water splashing all over the old tile floor. She inhales and gasps for air, painting like crazy, grasping to the feeling of brand new oxygen circulating under her chest and laughs out. It’s a dark laugh but it fills her with pleasure.

The adrenaline rush giving her a kick that she craved so much, something that she needed more and more lately. Her body floats gently while her fingers trace against her thighs, thoughts wandering in all directions. Her skin fills smooth under the water, needy ideas running through her head, frustration of her senses mixed with the frustrations caused by her writing blockade. Another groan escapes her mouth and it’s not the happy one she could look forward to. Slowly she gets up and stumbles out of the bathtub.

Too disturbed to focus on more than one thing at once. She lifts her sweated shirt, throws in the water and then rinses it out, putting it back on, little drops falling on the already wet floor, she slides the black underwear back on and heads to the laptop, touching it gently so it comes back to life.

She stares at it while the sounds of traffic from an opened window irritate her ears, yet she doesn’t close it; too desperate for any air to cool her down, also knowing the sounds made her thoughts run better. Small pokes making her focus more. She runs a hand through her wet hair and knows they’re soaking into the sofa, but not really caring. Her right hand grabs her shoulder while the chin rests on her arm. Think. You know it’s in you, all you have to do is open the right drawer. She looks to the sides and stares at the small stack of vinyl records laying on the floor next to the turntable she bought over 2 years ago.

Standing up, she walks up to the stack and fishes out the one she wants, the one with the faded red cover. The title calling out to her. “Coming Home.” Sounds like a good place to start. She puts the vinyl on and points the needle in the right place. The music starts to flow, and fills her starving mind, vibrating through her aching, needy body. Eyes closed, she sways, moving her hips to the sides, arms lifted, hands moving gently in the air; swaying with her figure, gliding over her curves. Head shaking and a slow fire building up.

Eyes open and she moves to the sofa, stares at the place where the title should be and types momentum, she blinks a couple of times and moans softly. So easy. Her fingers run over the keyboard as if in a trance and she starts to write. Really write, just like she used to all those years back.

Dark as only a night can be in the city, orange streetlamps and the noises of traffic. An almost empty room with vibrations of warm honey-coated music, not as hot as the air but much more soothing to the soul. The words filling the dark room, the singer’s voice bringing back the sounds of home, something long-lost and forgotten.

Oh, I wanna come near and give ya

Every part of me

But there’s blood on my hands

And my lips aren’t clean

In my darkness, I remember

Momma’s words reoccur to me

“Surrender to the good Lord

And he’ll wipe your slate clean”

Take me to your river

I wanna go

Oh, go on

Take me to your river

I wanna know

Tip me in your smooth waters

I go in

As a man with many crimes

Come up for air

As my sins flow down the Jordan...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CWrodPMhpdw

Leon Bridges - River

Our bargain basement

has its price,

and I dare not name it

...Trepidation

for what's seeping

in at the corners,

when the lights begin

their whispering...

is that your ghost

mentally creeping

down round the neck,

wondering where I'm at

...Metaphysically

I see you on our pillow,

with eyelashes casting

shadows to your inner life

...Phenomenon

there's a space, some who,

that your saving inside out

and while you're waiting...

Sleep has you in my grasp

...Goodnight my Darling,

...Goodnight

“If we hadn’t died, do you think he would have said yes?” the dead girl asked the dead boy as they sat on the edge of the world.

He thought carefully about his answer. “Does it matter?” he finally replied, gesturing to where they were, what they looked like.

“I think it does.”

“Why?”

“Because I would have hated it if he had said yes,” the dead girl said.

The dead boy’s dead jaw almost fell into the endless abyss before them. He caught it just in time. The dead boy let the pause between them last a little longer, before he walked into the verbal trap she had set before him.

“Why?”

“Because I’m in love with you,” she answered as if it had been rehearsed. The dead boy wished he had been called to that rehearsal.

“I know,” he said at last, as it was the truth.

For once, the dead boy was glad neither one of them had working hearts. He didn’t think they needed the heartbreak that would follow if he answered the unspoken question dancing in the dead eyes of the dead girl.

When I was 9 I had suicidal thoughts, I thought that my life had no meaning and I thought that my parents hated me. I thought my life was trash. When I 6 I kicked a glass door in an attempt to cut myself, I did. I have suicidal thoughts, MDD, anxiety, and ADHD. When I was younger I climbed on top of the roof I wanted to jump but I couldn’t. I tried to cut myself with knives, I didn’t have the guts. But now I realize that my life is great. I deserve to be alive and I value the things I have beyond belief. So if you’re ever thinking about suicide think again there are people that love you and value you for who you are. Even if you make mistakes that you can’t take away, or rumors that will never leave your heart. Remember my story, What stopped me from killing myself was the fact that my brother had a blood clot and bleeding from his brain. Then I thought about the grief that he would have gone through if you lost his sister from suicide. What if he never got to see me again. Then I cried, I thought about my family going through the grief of most likely losing a brother and then me. But my brother survived that showed me that there are miracles in this world and that God was a real thing. And that miracles can happen and to know what happened to me is just sensational

My only hope is that I don’t hear that awful word.

My only wish is that they don’t take him from me, from this world.

I watch the judge looking intently at Antonio, then his lawyer.

My heart is beating so loudly, that I barley hear the judge call a recess.

I leave the courtroom and wait outside for Antonio, trying desperately to find him.

I feel his arms around me before I even realize it’s him.

He gently lets go.

“I told you not to come.″ His deep green eyes flicker away.

“Of course I was gonna come.″

″Arabella...″

His eyes rise and meet mine.

“Yes?″ I say softly.

“I don’t want you to be there when they...″

His eyes fall back down.

“They aren’t taking you away.″

“Belle, you have to be ready.″

“No, no. I won’t let that happen. I won’t let them take you away.″ I shake my head, furiously.

He takes my hand and kisses it softly.

The hard chairs in the courtroom hurt my back. And my head.

Maybe it’s not the chairs.

The trial goes on.

The prosecutor stands up and points to a picture, which is standing beside the witness stand, of a knife covered in blood.

“Antonio Vasquez killed Meredith Kleif with this weapon.″

Antonio stares blankly at the picture.

“Isn’t that right, Antonio?″ The prosecutor taunts him.

He doesn’t flinch as the prosecutor rips him apart in front of an audience.

My heartbeat is loud in my ears again, ringing is also prominent.

The trial feels agonizingly long.

Eventually, the judge calls for the jury’s verdict.

A short woman stands up and I see her hand shaking as she holds the paper in front of her chest.

My heartbeat accelerates, but I force my ears to listen, until all I hear is her shaky voice, even now, unsure of what she is saying.

“For the charge of aggravated assault, we, the jury, find the defendant, Antonio Miguel Vaquez,″ She roughly swallows. “guilty.″

My heartbeat speeds up, the ringing comes back.

I don’t hear everything she says.

The ringing subsides.

Her voice is so shaky by now, that it’s barely audible.

“For the charge of murder in the first degree, we, the jury, find the defendant, Antonio Miguel Vasquez,″ Her eyes meet mine, her eyes fill with tears. “guilty.″

The tears are hot against my face.

I drop off of my chair and I’m curled in the aisle, sobbing.

I sit up and scream. “He’s not guilty! He’s innocent! You monsters...you..you’re taking him-″

A security guard picks me up and pulls me out of the room.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t- don’t...don’t..″ My voice falls away and I fall on the floor.

I slam the floor with my fist, until I feel too weak to continue.

“It’s- it’s okay.″ The security guard says hesitantly.

“You’ll take him away.″

“He’s...″ He was about to say that awful word, guilty.

He knows better than that.

“I-I wanna hear his sentence.″

The man nods softly. “You can’t act out like that again.″

I nod, reluctantly.

We walk back into the room, quietly and catch the end of his sentence.

The judge’s voice is rough. “In the state of Arizona, the defendant must be over fourteen years of age to receive the death penalty and the defendant is seventeen years old. In the state of Arizona, the victim of the killer must have been under fifteen years of age or over seventy for the defendant to receive the death penalty. Meredith Kleif was fourteen years old. For the murder in the first degree of Meredith Kleif, Antonio Miguel Vasquez shall be put to death.″

I feet the punch as hard as anything.

I fall to the floor.

I am dimly aware of the security guard behind me.

I scream and sob.

Antonio’s black hair softly falls in front of his face as he turns to look at me.

Pain ripples through his dark green eyes.

He didn’t do this.

My tears fall silently as our eyes are locked.

A security guard pulls him out of the room and his head is ripped away from me.

I push the guard out of the way. Before I leave, I whip around and meet the judge’s eyes.

I want him to see my pain.

I want it to hit him.

I want him to feel guilt.

His eyes soften and he tears his eyes away.

I run out of the room.

I look down the long hall and see Antonio.

I push past everyone and run to him.

I wrap my arms around him and feel the soft fabric of his bulky, black sweater under my wet face as I nuzzle my head into his shoulder.

His hands ruffle through my hair.

The security guard isn’t a good one and only notices me now.

“Hey!!″ He pulls me off.

I bang on the guard’s chest and sob.

“Don’t take him! Don’t! No..no...no″

The guard pushes me away.

“He’s guilty.″ The guard scowls and takes him away.

Antonio’s eyes flicker back to me and I see the torment in his eyes and I know he sees it in mine too.

Seven months later

Antonio received one of the shortest periods of time on the death row in history.

A mere seven months later, it is now that day. That torturous, agonizing, horrible day that no one should ever have to experience.

I walk into the room, dressed in black.

Antonio is already sitting in the other room, across the glass.

He lost all of his family the year before and had been living alone ever since.

Prison is a different type of alone. It’s the alone that means no one wants to go near you, because they fear you. They see you as a monster, which he isn’t.

He looks up gently when he sees me enter.

His eyes are tormented with pain when we lock eyes.

Tears flow steadily from me.

He watches me and tears form in his eyes.

His face is already red, he must have been crying steadily for days and who wouldn’t be?

He was falsely accused and now he is dying for it.

He would never do that. He would never kill.

The tears fall and I watch as a tear hits his hand.

His hand crumples under the pressure of the wet drop, the visible sign of hurt.

His lips twitch. He tries to contain his tears, but his head falls into his hands and he weeps.

We weep together. Separated, but together.

I gaze in horror as they strap him to the bed. Those horrible monsters.

A woman dressed like a surgeon reaches for a large needle.

She injects him with morphine and a sedative.

She reaches for a smaller needle, but with a sharper point.

My body shakes.

The pain is uncontrollable, much too hard to explain, to put into words.

She pushes it into his skin roughly, with no empathy for a fellow human, for a child.

My heart beats heavily.

My throat burns.

My stomach turns.

I feel sick.

Antonio’s body starts to shake.

He starts to fight against the buckles holding him down.

Five minutes and thirty nine seconds.

That’s how long I had to watch that.

Antonio’s dark, deep set, green eyes struggle to reach me.

He tries to mouth something but his lips are twitching crazily and he’s almost gone.

His eyes carry love, pain, tears, but no hatred. No hatred for the people who plunged needles into his skin.

My head hurts, it’s a pounding pain.

My hand reaches to the glass and rests softly.

His eyelids start to close and he tries to lift his hand to mine.

His efforts cease and his hand falls, along with his eyelids.

His lungs give way.

His brain goes numb.

I weep.

I bang on the glass.

“Antonio!! No! No!!” My screams echo through the room. “Come back! Don’t leave me!″

My hand slids down the glass as I fall softly to the hard, cold floor.

The prosecutor is in there with me.

His eyes are stained with a guilt that I know will never leave him.

My body shakes and my breathing is rugged.

I struggle to find breath at all.

Hours later, they wheel his coffin out of the building and I run to it.

I place my hands on the coffin and they shake steadily.

“Arabella means ‘yielding to prayer’. I ask God that you may rest now. You’ll be happier in Heaven, with the rest of your family. I’ll see you there one day, my love.″ My voice cracks and falls away.

The coffin carriers look at me with deep sympathy.

The only thing I feel when I hear his name, Antonio, is pain.

And years later, when they convict someone else for the murder of Meredith Kleif, it hurts all the same.

Yeah I’m falling. My stomach flipping back and forth between dropping out and being stone. It’s not like I imagined either. I guess I didn’t really think about the fall. I didn’t think about how there’s actually space between the jump and the hit. I didn’t think I’d have time to think.

But I do.

For the longest time, I couldn’t stand the idea of being the one that everyone looked back upon and said “Yeah it’s always the ones you least expect…”. I couldn’t stand the idea of the only memory of me being the worst memory of me. But in the end, I guess it was those ideas that pushed me to do it. “You don’t know me” “How dare you disrespect my memory.” “I AM SO MUCH BETTER THAN WHAT YOU SEE.”

Eh.

It’s exhausting to continuously lie to yourself. Or worse, to think, truly think, the lies are truth, only to have the rug ripped out from under your feet again. I wasn’t any different. I was just like all the others, and now, my mind was being slowly turned from never, to maybe, to please.

The air is sharp and dark as it rips through my lungs. “Take it in girl take it in”. It’s like how when you aren’t hungry anymore but you know you aren’t going to eat for a while so you just keep eating. It hurts but it’s the last so who cares right?

“@carrie_Fip mentioned you in a tweet!” I remember the little beep in the night pulling me partially out of sleep. It wasn’t quite the intensity of the tone I had set for a text, but just enough to rouse me from REM. Just enough to make me flutter my eyes, turn over, flip a button to silence my notifications, and roll back onto my shoulder. Little did I know I was rolling away from the biggest problem I had ever faced.

If I hadn’t turned it off, I would have heard the next beep. “@shelbster1123 retweeted a tweet you were mentioned in!” And the next “ A tweet you were mentioned in was retweeted!” and the next, and the next, and the next. I would have heard 147 retweets, and 233 replies. I probably would have even noticed before I went to school too had not the silencing of the notifications also silenced my alarm. I woke up with about 10 minutes until school started and ripped through my morning routine in a frenzy without so much as a glance at my phone. No, my first hint that something was wrong happened as I was walking into school. It was Danny Udaben. He looked at me, looked me up and down, and smirked.

“That’s weird” I thought, but I didn’t think much of it. I was sprinting to class.

But the looks continued. Everywhere I looked, I felt like some guy had just been checking me out or laughing at me. It got heavier and heavier. I saw Carrie and Shelb look at me but I didn’t care. Ever since Sam and I broke up his two little groupies had been all over me with their eyes every other day. It was stupid. It was so , forgive the cliché, so high school. Little did I know, this time was different. This time they had delivered the killing blow.

The second hint came from Sam actually.

“Hey sexy”

The first text in 3 months.

“Haha what?”

“You know what.”

He was always doing this when we were dating. Starting with some cryptic message and then just getting stupid. It might seem fun, ladies, but after awhile it’s annoying, and rude, and I was just done.

“Ok Sam. I’ll see you later.”

No it wasn’t the looks or the texts that finally showed me what I had been missing. It was my own face.

It was my face alright, but it certainly wasn’t my body. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t even get into that position if I tried. But, lo and behold, there I was, staring back at me as I walked into school the next day, plastered to the door in all my glory. And the front door, and the bathroom doors, and the gym doors, and pretty much anywhere a school official wouldn’t see until kids got there. Everywhere I turned I begged the caption: “Do you like me, Sam I am?”

Mortification wreaked in my bones. I was afraid to take it down, as if touching it would somehow prove that I had put it there in the first place. Panic rose in my chest and hot tears stung in my eyes. I couldn’t run away, that would make me guilty, but I couldn’t go in there either, that would mean eye contact with anyone and everyone who had just seen it. So, I chose the only option a girl ever has when she faces humiliation or more humiliation. I ignored it. I played it off like I didn’t see it and just kept on walking. I passed the 3 in the stairwell and I even managed to belittle the 50 that were shoved into my locker. I eased through the interrogation with administration as they figured out that it really wasn’t me that exposed myself to the school, begging for attention from the last boy I dated. I even handled the questions from my Mom with grace and maturity. I think I even laughed. I laughed and smiled and put on my pretty face, convinced the world that they hadn’t hurt me in the slightest. But we can’t lie to ourselves. Not really. The slime those girls had put there would slip and slosh inside me with every waking moment. Over the laugh was the blanket of what they did. That became my demon. Chewing my bones behind my smile.

I didn’t think I would feel the air as it whipped past me.

I also didn’t expect to see much. But right now, as I’m breathing and thinking and falling, I see the first wisps of the sun, reaching its fingers across the sky. It ripples through the water and warms the air. It plays along the beach and trickles into all the dark spots. I’ve never been one to swoon over sunrises. They’re nice but I had never gotten up before dawn just to see one or anything. I had never really seen them as beautiful. But right now,

I do.

To be honest, I’m not really sure what set it off but it started in Spanish. It was probably the classic case of one bad assignment followed by a couple accidently missed homeworks followed by the realization of a single bad grade and the conclusion of: “I need a few day’s break.” Then of course those days become a week, and then two, and then by the time you realize you’re in trouble you’ve tanked a test that’s actually important and you realize the “I’ll do it on Monday” thing is not going to get you out of this one. You never worry about being buried unless you’re already in the hole. Yeah, well, I guess I passed out or something during my fall into the hole because by the time I woke up, my report card that used to be vocalized best by the foremost letters of the alphabet had taken a turn to some of their latter counterparts.

No free donuts for me. No-sir-ee, I’m pretty sure if I would have taken my grades to crispy cream after this semester, they would have made me come back there and make the donuts myself. I was failing. I was in totally unmarked territory. But I was fighting. I didn’t want the bad grades. I cared about college. I really really really really did want to pull myself out of that hole. But how could I? How could I possibly go to a tutor and face them? What were they going to think? I had worked with them, on their end, for so long, and now I needed them? What had happened?

I was staying up late, I was getting up early. Sure it felt like I was on a treadmill that just kept getting faster and that each big step forward brought with it another kick in the face, but I was fighting. However, the reason why giving up is so tempting, is because it’s so easy.

I read that when an animal thinks it’s going to die, it panics; but when it knows it’s going to die, it is very very calm.

Right now, I don’t care about Carrie and Shelb. They’re just mean. I don’t care about my grades. They’re just letters, and the school year’s almost over anyway. I care about my Mom as I realize that while the pain in my heart will stop, the pain in hers never will. I think about the sunrise that I’m just now seeing. I have the teenage, indoctrinated impulse to grab my phone and take a picture, to capture the freshness of a new bursting day. But I never will. I think about what the newspapers will say, or worse, won’t say because maybe they’ll never find me. I wonder what that hotline would have told me. That it’s ok. That I’m not alone. That everything they were about to tell me I’d figure out on my own about 2/3 of the way down. They’d probably tell me that it’s not too late and that it’s never too late. They always say that it’s not too late. Only right now,

it is.

(TW: mentions of death and some violence)

*E*

Sometimes, I question sanity.

Not my own–god knows I’ve barely got any–but sanity in general. I guess just the idea that certain thoughts can change the way people perceive you. Reality is pretty subjective in my opinion, and it’s a little presumptuous to decide that the reality most people agree with is the only reality.

In my case, my reality involves a lot less emphasis on empathy.

“GOD PLEASE!!! Please stop! I have– I– I have a family! And a wife and I can’t lea– No! NO PLEASE!” Jonathan Trickston was begging for his life on his own carpet, and as I watched him crawl and beg and sob I tried to poke at that part of my brain that didn’t seem to work. The part where I shove my feet into Mr. Trickston’s shoes and feel some urge to stop what I’m doing. I frowned when it didn’t work, and then sighed as he started dragging himself towards the sliding glass door. I’d already stabbed him in the leg twice, he was bleeding all over everything and the only thought I had as I stalked toward him was “What a waste of carpet.”

“I was joking, please, please stop!” Mr. Trickston sobbed as I grabbed his ankle and dragged the man back towards me. He screamed as I raised my knife and I cut his throat with gritted teeth.

Fucking screamers, my ears are gonna be ringing for the next fucking week. Gross.

I rolled a kink out of my neck and stood up, there was blood on my pants, that kinda sucked, and more blood was still leaking from Mr. Trickston along with what was probably piss. I shuddered and turned away. Fucking bodily fluids. I wiped off my knife on my pants and tucked it away, then I straightened, fixed my hair, and left the cabin.

I yawned as I walked down the road, I’d parked my car about a mile out. It was nighttime, and the stars above me were out in all their sparkling brilliance, the moon lighting the way for me in what probably would have been an ominous lighting if I wasn’t so content in the fact that I was the nasty people usually imagine following them in the dark. I’m not so arrogant to believe that I’m the only monster in the world, but it just doesn’t seem probable that something nastier was out tonight with me.

Jonathan Trickston had died because I wanted to kill someone. In fact, I almost always wanted to kill someone. The thrill of stalking and hunting down a victim combined with the satisfaction of actually killing them and then getting away with it was the most entertaining thing I had. I’d started killing mostly on accident, after a rocky childhood and a couple nights of unwanted intimacy, I killed my cousin–and I didn’t feel a thing. Tiny little Eleanor Lunard had laughed as her cousin bled from the head and his eyes went glassy and still. Suffice to say, my parents hadn’t been too thrilled about it, so they created the story of a monster that crawled through our window and murdered my cousin and left before it got the chance to take me too.

The media ate it up, and little Eleanor became an internet sensation, a tiny little survivor, luckily it only lasted about a week before someone else became the center of the world, and I got to go back to living as Leah. But, tiny Leah suddenly had a taste for the most exhilarating experience she would ever have, and that had created a fascination and an addiction.

I learned pretty quickly what the do’s and don'ts of murder are, one of them being: people who are unliked die the easiest. Mr. Trickston was a known pervert, and his wife wasn’t very quiet about her dislike for him. He’d been “joking” about soliciting my 8 year old alias for sex. All I’d had to do was pretend to be an interested party and he’d taken the bait and flown out to the little cabin in the middle of nowhere. There was also a note that his wife would find, detailing how his newest affair had changed his heart and he was running off with his new mistress–but that he was leaving all his funds to her as long as she reported nothing.

This was the plan I had meticulously put in place, and I knew it would work out and Mr. Trickston’s dead body wouldn’t be found for at least a year. Though part of me was still feeling the rush of hunting him down, now I just felt bored. I was going to have to start the process all over again, finding a new douchebag and memorizing their schedule so that I could stalk them and try not to fall asleep watching someone's boring life. I sighed as I walked and pursed my lips.

There was a few people who I worked with that could be possibilities. Jacobson from accounting’s apparently been groping employees. Conners steals everyone’s lunch and she’s probably a drunk. Except she’s a single parent, orphan’s would cause trouble. Jacobson’s probably my best bet.

There was suddenly light from a car coming towards me. I relaxed my shoulders and kept walking until I realized the car was slowing down, I glanced over and watched as the window of a fancy looking convertible rolled down to reveal an anxious looking man.

He had auburn hair that was a complete mess of loose curls, that and pretty looking brown eyes and olive-ish skin. I raised a brow and cocked my head in question.

“I was just wondering if you wanted a ride, I don’t know how far you’re going but I’ve got to drop off something but then I’m on my way to Falls,” he said and I narrowed my eyes on him. He looked genuine, which was a bit of a surprise. He also looked a lot shorter than me, even sitting down. I tossed the idea around in my head for a moment, thinking about my bloodstained pants for a second but by now the black material was dry. Falls is what most of the locals called the tiny town up a couple miles and surrounded by waterfalls. My car was parked on the way and I was already bored by the walk, even though, talking with a stranger sounded almost as draining as the walk. Eventually I nodded.

“I’m heading to just before Falls, parked my car there for a hike,” I said, and he smiled as I walked around and climbed into the passenger's seat.

“Cool, I’m Link by the way, I’m sorry maybe this is weird, I just saw you walking and just–I don’t know, I wouldn’t want to be walking alone in the dark so I just thought I’d ask,” Link rambled nervously, he laughed a little and glanced to me as he started driving again. I pretended to smile back.

“Yeah, it is a little cold,” I said, and he laughed. Now that I was closer I noticed he also had freckles across his nose, he looked young, maybe my age– college age, and he had a simple gold band on his left hand. He caught me looking and grinned.

“Oh, uh, yeah, I’m getting married, my fiancé just proposed to me actually a couple days ago,” he beamed, holding out his hand to show the ring I pretended to smile again and nodded.

“Congratulations,” I said and he smiled again. I looked out the front window to avoid his gaze and suddenly realized we were heading back towards the cabin, I pursed my lips. “Where did you say you needed to go?” I asked carefully, and Link laughed and blushed a little as he turned down the dirt road leading to the cabin I’d just murdered someone in.

“I clean these cabins, and well, I’m not a very memory gifted person–” he cut himself off with a nervous laugh. “I actually forgot my keys there, can you believe it? I had to steal my boyfriend–fiancé’s–car to get out here.” I clenched my jaw.

“Huh.” I managed. I’d known that cleaners tended to come and dust everything or tidy up when someone first bought the cabin, but I hadn’t realized they would also send someone to clean before you came to visit. I almost groaned as I remembered the moronic decision to announce my arrival. Link parked the car in front of the cabin and smiled over at me.

“Ok, I’ll be just a minute and then we can head out,” he explained, “Sorry about this,” he added before climbing out of the car. I jumped out after him and he furrowed his brow.

“Let’s uh... why don’t I come in with you? Two more eyes? It might help, ya know, the search,” I stumbled to think of an excuse. My mind was reeling, if he walked into the building he would discover the bleeding body of Mr. Trickston, and I would be screwed. I pushed a hand through my hair and then tugged on the braid it was in. Link looked skeptical but acquiesced, and I followed him up the stairs and watched as he unlocked the cabin with the key under the doormat. Of fucking course there was a key there for staff, Leah you dumbass.

"The guest isn't supposed to be in until tomorrow morning," he explained, I gave him a pained smile as he pushed the door open and flicked on the lights. Before I could say anything he screamed and his eyes widened. I panicked and slammed his head again the door frame. Link went limp with a slight yelp and crumpled to the floor.

“Shit.”

*L*

I groaned as I woke up. My head felt like it had been hit by a brick and for some reason I couldn’t move my legs. I tried to stretch out but suddenly realized I wasn’t in my bed at home. Panic suddenly seized me and I couldn’t breathe. My eyes snapped open and I looked around frantically as I tried to figure out where I was. My wrists were zip tied together and there was duct tape over my mouth. It was completely dark and really cramped where ever I was, and I could hear what sounded like an engine running.

Slowly my eyes adjusted to the dark and I looked around again, this time I spotted a bag that looked familiar. I narrowed my eyes and scooted towards it, before suddenly realizing it was Jaz’s bag. Fuck I was in the trunk of Jaz’s car.

I racked my brain and tried to remember what had happened, it came back in fragments. Jaz let me borrow the car, why? Oh I forgot my keys at the cabin and– there was a woman who– a body– oh fuck.

I groaned as I realized Jaz was never going to let me live this one down.

“Don’t pick up hitchhikers, it’s dark and I don’t want them stinking up my car.”

Fuck.

Suddenly the car stopped and I started banging on the trunk and screaming through the duct tape to try and get someone to notice. The sound of a car door slamming made me flinch and when the door to the trunk opened up I screamed.

The woman scowled down at me, she glowed a little with the moonlight behind her and I pressed myself back farther to get away from her. She just rolled her eyes and yanked me forward, dragging me out of the trunk like I weighed nothing. It didn’t help my terror and I struggled against her more but she just sighed.

“Can you not? I’m already having a rough day it would be great if you could just cooperate,” she deadpanned and for a moment I froze and looked at her disbelievingly. Is she being serious? “Thanks, appreciate it,” she said, using my momentary shock to throw me over her shoulder and I screamed again and tried to struggled off again, she tightened her grip painfully and growled something. We were making our way into what looked like a warehouse, and she cursed under her breath before dropping me on the ground to fumble with the padlock on the door.

I tried to regain the ability to breath like a functioning human being and then started to try and crawl away. It felt pretty pointless but I couldn’t just lay there and let her drag me away. I heard the chain drop as she unlocked the door and I looked over my shoulder in time to see her sigh and stalk towards me.

“Where do you even plan on going? Chill I haven’t even decided if I want to kill you yet,” she grumbled as she grabbed my leg and dragged me into the building. I scrambled to grab onto something and managed to catch the door jab. I held on and tried to pull myself out, still screaming desperately.

“Christ man, what the fuck,” the woman hissed as she pulled on my leg. There were no other buildings within sight and that sudden realization made my insides freeze. Helplessness choked me and my fingers slipped on the doorway as she dragged me the rest of the way into the warehouse. I looked around panickedly– noticing that the building was virtually empty, with a single chair in the center of the room and a tiny little office off to the left side that served as the only other room in the high-roofed building. I watched as she slammed the door behind us and then grabbed under my armpits to drag me over to the chair. I kicked and screamed but it didn’t do anything besides make her hiss insults and curses in my ear as she hefted me into the metal seat.

I tried to lunge out but she shoved me back down and pointely zip tied my legs to the chair before brandishing a knife at me that made me freeze. My eyes were glued to the knife as she narrowed her eyes at me.

“I’m taking off the ties here, if you hit me I swear to god I’ll cut your nose off,” she hissed and I could feel tears filling my eyes. “Got it?” she snapped and I nodded as she shoved the knife in my face. “Ok good,” she said, cutting the tie and then securing my arms to the arms of the chair. “That wasn’t so bad, jesus,” she muttered, before straightening and narrowing her eyes at me. After a moment she reached out and ripped the duct tape off my mouth. I screamed, and yelled for help. My already overused throat burned and the woman rolled her eyes and slapped a hand over my mouth, holding the knife back up.

“No one can fucking hear you, all you’re doing is giving me a headache so can you not keep screaming for help?” she said and I glared, she slowly removed her hand.

“Fuck you! You’re going to kill me I’m not just going to not try and escape!” I said, before going pale as I realized antagonizing the lady with a large knife probably wasn’t a good idea. The woman sighed again.

“Fine, but I’m getting Advil, I’ll be back when you’re done, I hope your fucking vocal cords snap,” she said, stalking off towards the little office room and slamming the door behind her. I leaned down and started trying to chew through my zip ties, unfortunately that proved to be a bit more difficult that I’d originally thought, and then my phone started ringing. I jumped at the sound of it and then a wave of relief washed over me as I recognized the ringtone, it was Jaz’s, Jaz would get suspicious, he would come find me, or get the police to come. All I had to do was sur– I screamed as the woman suddenly charged out of the room and over to me.

“If you don’t pick up that phone will someone come looking for you?” she asked, and I closed my mouth and watched her with wide eyes. She had brown hair that was tied back in a loose braid. The sides of her head were shaved close to the scalp and she was wearing all black, canvass looking clothing. Her eyes were intense and silver and they matched the giant ass knife she was holding.

“Answer me or I take an ear,” she hissed, holding up the knife, I yelped and flinched away, almost knocking the chair over.

“Yes, yes, Jaz will worry,” I said, and she groaned.

“Ok, you’re going to answer the phone, and tell him that you ran off with someone, got it? Tell him that the wedding’s off and that you hate him, cool?” Now I really felt like crying.

“No! No not cool! I’m not going to tell my fiancé that I hate him!” I managed and she scowled at me.

“Ugh, fine,” and she reached out and dug through my pocket, pulling the phone out, I screamed again.

“No! NO! You, don’t do this, please don’t do this!” I yelled and she slapped a hand over my mouth again before pressing the call button. She hit speakerphone and threatened me with the knife she had in the same hand as the phone. I whimpered uselessly.

“You still figuring out Lu?” I heard Jaz laugh through the phone, Lu was the name of his stupid car. “Took me a whole week to figure out how to answer calls, anyways– what’s the hold up? Pizza got here ten minutes ago,” he said.

“Who the hell are you?” the woman asked, suddenly sounding like some bad impression of a valley girl.

“Uhhh, who the hell are you, where’s Link?” Jaz asked, sounding suspicious.

“Um, I’m Link’s girlfriend you dumbass, why are you calling him?”

“Yeah, ok, who the fuck are you?”

“Tell me who you are first.”

“I’m Jaz, his fiancé, and the guy who’s five seconds from calling the cops, where the fuck is Link?” Jaz demanded, and I felt another wave of relief wash over me. I bit her hand and she hissed at me but yanked her hand back.

“JAZ HELP! There’s a warehouse and she’s–” suddenly she stabbed the knife into my thigh, red hot pain laced it’s way up my leg and I screamed. She yanked the knife out and glared at me.

“Christ, thanks, now I have to deal with this, fucking thanks,” she snapped at me before turning back to the phone. Jaz was panicking and screaming into the phone, I couldn’t really hear him though because my ears felt stuffed with cotton balls. My eyes kept unfocusing and my leg felt like it was on fire.

“Ok, here’s the deal, I’ve got your man, and if you go to the cops at all I’ll kill him. If you tell anyone he’s missing, I’ll kill him. So don’t fuck with me right now,” then she glared at me. “And give me a minute,” she added, setting the phone down on my leg to grab a roll of duct tape from her pants pocket. She ripped of a piece and I managed a few hazy no’s before I couldn’t talk anymore. I could still hear Jaz screeching death threats into the phone and I groaned and let my head loll back as another lash of pain went up my leg.

“What the fuck do you want.” Jaz growled, and the woman sighed.

“I don’t know, some peace and quiet? Listen, I didn’t want to grab your man– it was a wrong place wrong time kind of thing. But that doesn’t mean I won’t kill him if you don’t do everything I say,” she explained, “First, wait, one sec–” she hung up the phone and tapped the screen for a moment before ripping the duct tape half off and holding it up to my face.

“Passcode,” she ordered, I couldn’t really hear her though. She poked a finger into my leg, right where the cut was and I screamed again. “Passcode.” she hissed again.

“4426,” I said as the phone started ringing again, the sound of it made my head pound and I groaned.

“I said give me a fucking minute jesus,” she growled into the phone.

“You fucking bitch if you touch one god damn hair on his head I will–” she cut Jaz off by hanging up and then snarled at something she saw on the phone.

“Oh fuck you,” she grumbled, probably at the find friends she’d figured out I had turned on, something like terror clenched my gut as she tossed the ringing phone against the wall of the warehouse. I blinked and suddenly my hands were zip tied together again and my legs were free, I tried kicking out at her but she just tossed me over her shoulder again and I passed out again. The last thing I could think of was fuck me.

*E*

Nadia was probably not going to be very happy. Then again, I didn’t really care that much. I ignored the slight uneasy anticipation I was having as I knocked on Nadia’s door while holding a mostly-conscious guy over my shoulders. I had to knock twice before I heard the sound of Nadia waking up, and when she finally opened the door she looked pissed, when she saw me though she raised a brow, then looked over to where I was holding Link.

“This better not be some kind of complicated foreplay, I was sleeping,” Nadia said, and I rolled my eyes.

“I need your help,” I bit out, and Nadia threw back her head and cackled. She was wearing a bright red, silk, kimono. It had sleeves that opened up and then hung down almost to her knees, it seemed a little impractical, her black hair was up in a haphazard bun and she had a sleep mask shoved up her face that said “Bitches Need Beauty Sleep” but I knew she hadn’t been sleeping because she still had her makeup on. It was slightly outrageous, but didn’t look bad, bright shimmery green eyeshadow and thick black eyeliner. That with the pounds of highlighter on her cheekbones made her look like some kind of heiress, or goddess. She sighed and started undoing the kimono strap, probably to swap sides and I rolled my eyes.

“I’m not killing him,” I said, and she looked up at me skeptically. I shrugged, “Yet.”

“Fine, come in, what do you need help with?” She asked, stepping aside so that I could come in. She closed the door and then crossed her arms over her chest. Her heavy makeup made her eyes look smaller than usual, but somehow that didn’t affect her overall stunning looks.

“Well, do you have a chair I could tie him to? Or a room I could stuff him in?” I asked, and Nadia rolled her eyes but walked into the kitchen and pulled out a chair on her way. I set down Link and started securing him to the chair, before I followed Nadia into the kitchen where she was boiling water for tea.

“Do you have any of the gyoza left over?” I asked, opening her fridge to dig around.

“No, you ate all of it last time you were here, in like, two sittings. Those took me a whole day to make you heathen,” she grumbled and I shrugged again.

“So, you going to tell me who that is? And why you’re covered in blood and dropping on my doorstep at the ass crack of dawn?”

“Yeah, I was finishing up with Trickston and then this kid popped up out of nowhere, he saw the body. I haven’t decided what to do with him, maybe he’ll just bleed out,” I said, pulling a package of pizza rolls out of the freezer and clicking on the oven. Nadia made a distressed face and rushed over to Link, who was still slumped over unconscious.

“Is he still bleeding?? Leah this is fucking cashmere you prick!” she hissed, hurrying to use the tie on her robe and a dishtowel to stop the bleeding. I rolled my eyes.

“I have duct tape,” I offered, and Nadia shot a glare at me over her shoulder.

“I thought you said you hadn’t decided whether you were killing him or not,” she quipped, tightening the tie aggressively. It made Link jolt back awake and hiss in pain. Nadia drew in a long, melodramatic sigh and took a step back as Link started hazily looking around.

“Eh,” I hummed noncommittally, and it made Link’s eyes snap over to mine, he widened them and then tried– unsuccessfully– to scoot the chair away. It almost fell over and Nadia had to grab it, pushing the arms down and leaning in close to Link with a smile on her lips. I rolled my eyes and Link yelped at the proximity.

“Hey there baby, what’re you up to,” she whispered and Link tried his best to lean away from her.

“Where am I?” he asked, voice shaking, and I glanced around the apartment Nadia and I unofficially shared while scratching my cheek absentmindedly.

“Nadia’s place,” I said eventually, Nadia shot me a scathing look and I shrugged.

“Nice going dumbass, now he knows my name,” she said, and I rolled my eyes.

“So what? Listen–kid, here’s my situation ok?” I said, walking over and hip checking Nadia gently out of the way. She glared a little but moved into the kitchen while I sat down on the couch across from Link, who watched me, eyes suspicious and fearful.

“You saw that mess in the cabin, I can’t just have witnesses walking around you know? Mr. Trickston wasn’t supposed to be found for another couple of weeks,” I explained, and Link’s brow furrowed.

“Wait, that was Johnny?” he asked, and I raised a brow.

“You know him?”

“No! No– no, I mean, no. Not personally, but I’ve met him before, Jaz hates him,” he said quickly, and I nodded thoughtfully, thinking back to all the HR complains I’d read.

“Jaz is the fiancé right? The rude guy on the phone?” I asked, and Link bristled.

“He’s only being rude because you kidnapped me. If anything you’re being the rude one.”

“Ooooh! Get her, you go kid I like you,” Nadia cheered from the doorway of the kitchen, I scowled over at her and she winked at me before disappearing again.

“Whatever, point is, now I’ve got two witnesses and a dead body– which, by the way, isn’t my first. Are you seeing my problem?” I asked, and Link gulped, his eyes darting over to the kitchen for a moment.

“What about her? She’s a witness to the murders and kidnapping,” he said, and Nadia popped her head out again with a feigned scandalized look.

“Leah! Are you telling me you’re holding this boy is here against his will?! I can’t believe this!” she wailed dramatically before pretending to faint against the door frame. I rolled my eyes and turned back to Link.

“She’s a witness to a lot more than that. The difference between you and her is that I know she won’t get a hero streak and go to the cops,” I said, and Link’s eyes widened.

“I won’t– if you let me go I won’t say anything, I swear,” he said, and I narrowed my eyes on him.

“I hope you realize just how little those words mean to me,” I deadpanned and Link’s eyes flickered around as he tried to think of something.

“What about money? Does your honey have some dough?” Nadia asked, having ‘regained’ consciousness. I glared at her and she mockingly shrugged at me.

“What, if he has money you can just drop him off with Lovito and have him take care of it,” she added in Korean. I sighed, Lovito was a local crime ‘organizer’ who sometimes hired me for murders. He paid well, but he was gross. He’d also jump on the opportunity to squeeze some cash out of a hostage situation. I thought it over and then looked back at Link thoughtfully, but suddenly he’d gone suspiciously quiet. I narrowed my eyes on him.

“Well, are you going to answer the lady?” I asked cooly, Nadia giggled in the background.

“She called me ‘lady,’” she said faux dreamily, I ignored her.

“What’s Jaz’s number,” I asked, pulling out the burner phone I’d meant to toss in a McDonald's garbage, Link started shaking his head desperately and I pulled my knife out again. “Number, or I find it out when I get his mailing address so I can send him your ring finger,” I threatened and Link’s eyes widened fearfully. He recited the number though, and I hit call.

“You got Jaz, I’m probably busy planning a wedding, I’ll call you back when I can– oh and if this is Link: don’t worry I already picked up the cat food, love you.”

I hung up and called the number again, just getting the voicemail. I sighed and called again, this time a tired voice picked up.

“Not a great time, what?” he hissed and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

“How much money do you have access to?” I asked, leaning back on the couch. Nadia came over and settled down next to me, she dropped a cup of tea down on the table in front of me and sipped her own. She raised a brow questioningly at Link who was too busy staring at the phone and looking distraught to notice her question.

“What–? Wait, who is this?” he asked and I sighed.

“I’ll give you three guesses,” I deadpanned and Jaz growled on the other end of the phone. I pulled it away from my ear as he shouted insults. I glared at it and put it back to my ear.

“Listen, I have a headache, so keep your voice down will you?” I gritted and I heard Jaz scoff.

“I’ll quiet down when I know where Link is you sack of SH–” I growled and then held out the phone towards Link while stomping on his foot. He shrieked, probably more from surprise than pain, but it worked just as effectively and Jaz shut up for a second. “What the fuck are you you doing to him you bitch I swear to god I’ll–”

“I’m not going to repeat myself again, be quiet, and tell me how much money you have access to,” I hissed.

“How much do you want?”

“Not what I asked.”

“Well it’s what I’m asking.”

“I don’t think you understand,” I said, trying for a sickly sweet tone, “answer me or you’ll be having a funeral instead of a wedding.” Link gulped and Jaz went silent on the other end of the phone.

“I don’t– I don’t know that’s not just something I usually think about, it–” I clenched my jaw and dragged a hand down my face.

“This is why I don’t deal with living people,” I muttered in Korean, and Nadia snorted. “Ok, here’s a new plan, I’ll say a number, you say yes or no, got it?” I asked, Jaz was silent for a moment.

“20 million,” I said, go big or go home I guess. Link made some kind of noise and I glared at him to shut him up.

“It’ll take a couple days, everything’s invested in the– well, yeah…” Jaz trailed off, I squinted at the phone.

“Really?” I asked incredulously. Why the fuck would someone throw away 20 million dollars for a fuck buddy. That just didn’t make sense, there’s millions of other people in the world, and way cheaper prostitutes.

“'Really?' Yeah, really, you’re holding my fucking fiancé hostage, I’m going to do whatever I can to get him back,” I raised a brow at Link, who blushed.

“I’ll never understand love,” I muttered in Korean again, Nadia full on cackled this time.

“How many people are there with you?” Jaz asked suddenly, and I froze, looking around.

“None of your business lover boy,” I said, standing up and going over to the window to peek outside to the street.

“Let me talk to Link,” Jaz demanded, and I rolled my eyes, tracking a tiny silver Miata as it sped past the apartment.

“Yeah, sure, why don’t I just give you our location while I’m at it, dumbass,” I grumbled, before deciding that the coast was clear in front of the house.

“You can listen ok! Just let me talk to him, I need to know that he’s ok,” Jaz said, suddenly his voice sounded raw and I blinked. What the fuck is this. I scowled at the phone for a moment.

“Fine, but try anything and I’ll mail you his ear,” I hissed, and heard Jaz sigh with relief. I ignored it and made my way over to where Link was tied up and put the phone on speaker and held it up to his face.

"Your man wants to say hi,” I grumbled, and Nadia made an appreciative noise from on the couch.

“Awww, Leah is your cold, dead heart thawing?” I glared back at her as Link lunged closer to the phone.

“Jaz?” he asked, and then grinned as Jaz answered.

“Link? Thank god, are you ok? What’s happening–I swear to god if she hurt you I’m going to kill her,” Nadia laughed and Link winced.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, are you ok?” Link asked.

“Am I ok–? Link what the fuck, shut up, you’re the one who got yourself kidnapped.” Jaz snapped and Link smiled like an idiot despite the hostile tone. I scowled at him and the phone. “By the way, how did that happen?” Link winced again, and glanced over to me for a second before looking back at the phone.

“I uh, I saw her walking and I just… I don’t know... I wouldn’t have wanted to be walking home in the middle of the night alone so I just, thought…”

“You just thought that you were being nice.”

“Yeah.”

“Christ Link don’t you read the news, don’t pick up strangers after dark, or period!”

“I probably wouldn’t have grabbed him if he hadn’t been going back to the cabin,” I interjected for some reason. Nadia’s eyes gleamed and Link shot me a grateful look, before realizing what he was doing. I slapped myself mentally.

“Are you… defending the goodness of humanity?” Jaz asked slowly, “As literally someone who kidnapped a person?”

“Ok phone call over, say bye,” I snapped, and Link’s eyes went wide.

“No, no please, please don’t make me–”

“When will anyone learn that begging doesn’t fucking work?” I hissed in Korean before glaring at Link. “I’m not going to fucking kill you chill just say bye for now,” I clarified and Link relaxed.

“Jaz, I love you, I’m sorry, I–”

“Shut it Link, don’t give me that, you have to be home in time to feed the cats, you know I’ll forget.” Jaz hissed, and that stupid smile was back on Link’s face. Like somehow those words meant the entire world to him. I made a face and tried not to gag. Nadia cackled at my expression.

“I’ll call you later,” I snapped into the phone before hanging it up mid-threat. I was glad it was a flip phone and not one of the dumb iPhones so that I could slap it closed. Link flinched.

“Awww, Leah why can’t we be like that, you guys are so cu-te!” Nadia cooed, drawing out the word ‘cute’ so it sounded like two words. I rolled my eyes at her as Link blushed.

“Because I’m a sociopathic narcissist who likes murder,” I deadpanned, and Nadia gave me a look.

“And aromantic,” she added in Korean, I waved her off. I didn’t care about labels, I didn’t care about anything other than the facts in the moment. If I wanted to eat pizza then I wanted to eat pizza. If I wanted to kill someone, then I wanted to kill someone. If I wanted to have sex then I wanted to have sex. It didn’t matter who it was I was having it with, and it seemed as impractical as Nadia’s sleeves to label it. Nadia however was obsessed with labels, she was something called a cupiosexual. I’d done a little research into all the different labels but they all just sounded like the same thing to me. Besides, I didn’t have time to perfectly name everything about myself, I had other things to be worrying about, like the hostage I had sitting in Nadia’s living room. He and Nadia were currently chatting, I couldn’t be bothered to try and figure out what they were talking about and then the timer on Nadia’s oven went off and I remembered the pizza-rolls.

Nadia joined me in the kitchen after a couple of minutes of me trying to stuff the boiling rolls into my mouth and then spitting them back out in my hand and rubbing my newly charred tongue on the roof of my mouth. I’d finally gotten four rolls down by the time she showed up and leaned against the counter on either side of me so I was boxed in by her arms. I rolled my eyes and she leaned in.

“He’s cute, are you really just going to sell him off to Lovito?” she asked, stealing a pizza roll and biting off the corner so it would cool.

“Probably, I don’t want to have to deal with a whole hostage situation. Sounds like a pain,” I said, she nodded thoughtfully and finished off her one roll in the time I’d eaten five.

“Yeah, besides, he’s starting to get friendly, and your dumbass usually kills things that get close,” she teased, I rolled my eyes. “How about you just let him go, just for me. He won’t say anything I swear,” Nadia said suddenly, and I narrowed my eyes on her.

“Don’t tell me–”

“He’s just so adorable, Lovito’s probably gonna fuck him up somehow,” she whined and I sighed.

“Sorry, but I can’t let a witness run free.”

“Not even for me?”

“Not even for you. Especially not for you, I hate your guts.” I said, and she grinned.

“Whatever you say 내 사랑.”

*L*

At least now I got to ride in the backseat I guess. Except it was the footwell of the backseat, which wasn’t much of an improvement. Every pothole was making me slam my head into the car door and my leg was aching. The girl– Nadia– had helped patch it up a little better, but it still hurt, especially since all she’d had on hand was Advil for pain relief. At least now though, with the real bandages and antiseptic, I was less worried about infection.

Leah–I’d finally learned the name of the girl who’d kidnapped me–still hadn’t filled me in on where we were headed but I got re-zip-tied and duct taped for it. Part of me hoped it was to some rendezvous point where I’d see Jaz again. I wanted to be home, sitting on my couch with my cats watching some documentary that would make Jaz yawn over dramatically.

The other part of me though, really didn’t want Jaz to pay 20 million dollars. I was feeling guilty just thinking about him spending that much for me. The wedding cost had already been a bone of contention between us and now this?

I groaned as Leah went over another pothole.

“Stop moaning we’re almost there,” she said, tone sounding flat and completely unapologetic. The only thing I knew about our destination was that she’d had a phone conversation with someone named ‘Lovito.’ I didn’t know who ‘Lovito’ was or what they wanted, but I was nervous about meeting them. My anticipation only grew as Leah suddenly stopped the car and got out. I strained to hear the muffled voices from outside the car.

“...Leah, Leah, lovely Leah, how’ve you been darling?” a voice drawled in a sing-song tone.

“You got my cash Lovito?” Leah’s voice asked sharply, and I heard a laugh.

“Always business with you ain’t it? Yeah, I got your cash, lemme see our man first though.” Evidently ‘Lovito’ said, and then the door opened and I almost spilled out of the car. I hadn’t realized I’d been so pressed against it, but Leah caught me and hauled me up to a semi-standing position against the car. I glared at her and she offered me a deadpanned shrug.

Behind her there was a tall, snake-like man in a black suit with gelled black hair. He grinned at me, eyes flicking up and down in a way that made my skin crawl. He flicked his chin to gesture at me.

“Bobby, check ’im,” Lovito said, and another man– Bobby– stepped forward, he patted me down and then ripped off the duct tape. I hissed at the unexpected pain but then his hands were prying open my mouth. I spit on the ground when Bobby finally got his fingers out of my mouth.

“He’s good,” Bobby said, going back to stand behind Lovito.

“You said you were selling him back to the fiancé,” Leah said, watching Lovito carefully. Lovito grinned and spread his hands in a casual gesture.

“Eh, one million isn’t nearly as much as I could get from someone else, you know how it is Leah, business and all,” he said and my guts started crawling with panic. I looked over to Leah, who was scowling at Lovito.

“Jaz said–” Leah slapped a hand over my mouth to shut me up and I blinked at her.

“Zip it dumbass,” she hissed, not taking her eyes off of Lovito.

“Oh, you always were so diplomatic Leah,” He grinned. “Alrighty, give the lady what she wants, then we can all be on our merry ways,” Lovito said, waving a hand for another one of the four guys standing behind him to bring a case forward. Leah shifted suddenly and pulled out her phone.

“Give me one second guys,” she said, throwing up a plastic smile as she walked around to the back of the car and dialed a number. I heard her snap something in hushed korean before she closed the phone and came back to stand beside me, now she was grinning, and I gulped. Lovito’s smile started to falter.

“Who was that Leah?” he gritted out through a clenched jaw. And Leah took a step towards him.

“Nadia, she says hi,” and then everything went to hell.

First Leah lunged forward and landed a painful looking kick to Lovito’s groin, when he folded in half she slammed his face down onto her knee and then shoved his unconscious body aside. Three of the other guys charged at her, Bobby holding a gun, and Leah grabbed it out of his hand and slammed it against his temple while kicking another guy in the gut. Bobby collapsed, and the other guy was gasping for breath while Leah broke the third guys nose and then whacked the second guy with the gun so that all three of them and Lovito were laying at her feet. She glanced up, the last goon–the one holding the case full of money–yelped and started booking it. Leah sighed and chucked the gun at the back of his head so that he dropped down to the ground.

My eyes widened as I watched Leah walk over to me. She shoved me out of the way and then pulled more zip ties out of the car and secured them around her own wrists. I watched her in confusion.

“Bu–wha–you–I–huh?” I managed and Leah rolled her eyes while yanking against the zip ties.

“Listen up, this is our story–” she started as she broke the zip tie over her knee and grabbed Bobby. There were red marks now around her wrists as she hefted him up and placed his hands carefully around the steering wheel in a couple of places and on the stick shift before dropping his body again. “These bozos kidnapped us, this guy here drove us out here and we managed to get the drop on them.” Leah said as she cut the zip ties off my wrists with her knife. I blinked at her.

“I–”

“Got it?”

“Y–yeah, yeah I got it.”

“Good, and there will be no mention of my alleged kidnapping of you, or I’ll track down your fiancé and rip out his spine,” she hissed, I yelped and nodded quickly. “Good,” she said again with a nod, “Nadia called the cops, they should be here any second.”

*E*

This was better anyways, if Nadia ever heard what had happened she probably would have skinned me. I liked my skin on my body. I tried to convince myself I’d stopped the whole thing just for that reason. I could’ve lived with my being responsible for Link getting sold off to who-knows-where. I didn’t care about him. I tried not to think about it as the cops lead us both into one of the offices. They kept questioning us, which was annoying because I just kept having to answer the same stupid questions. Luckily Link was better at the whole ‘traumatized victim’ act then I was.

“So you were both taken at the 7/11 on Cross street at approximately 11:45 pm, is that correct?” The officer asked, again, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

“Yes sir, she saw them grabbing me and tried to help, but they just ended up taking her too,” Link repeated for probably the fourth time, and the officer nodded and let out an exasperated sigh.

“Alright, you’re free to go, there’s someone out waiting for you, says he’s your fiancé,” the officer said, and Link perked up.

“Jaz?” he asked hopefully, and the officer waved a hand.

“Probably, I didn’t catch a name over the death threats, you should probably hurry out,” he said, and Link was out of the room in a second, I stood up to follow but the officer stopped me.

“Listen, er– the woman that called in the tip, you wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?” I smiled, and hoped it didn’t look as smug as I felt.

“Sorry officer, I have no idea,” I said, he nodded.

“Alright then, have a good rest of your day, try and get some rest,” he said, tipping his hat to me as I walked out. As soon as I looked up I spotted Link, he was being held at arm’s length by another man– who I assumed must be Jaz.

Jaz was a bit taller than Link, and he had black hair that was tied up in a haphazard looking bun, he had tanned skin and almond shaped eyes and was wearing an expression that looked like relief. After a moment he stopped scanning Link and latched onto him. He whispered something in Link’s ear that made Link go close to limp. Jaz’s knuckles were turning white from where they were gripping Jaz’s coat and I wondered vaguely what it would feel like to be that worried about losing someone. Then Jaz looked over Link’s shoulder and noticed me. He narrowed his eyes on me and whispered something that made Link turn around, they were both still clutching each other like their lives depended on it, but Link let go with one hand to wave me over. My stomach rolled at the idea but I ignored it and made my way over.

“Jaz this is–this is Leah, she… helped me escape,” Link said slowly as we started walking outside. He was eyeing me carefully as Jaz reached out a hand and I shook it carefully.

“I can’t thank you enough, really, I owe you–fuck I owe you everything, if there’s anything, anything we can do for you please, just feel free to reach out,” he said shaking my hand enthusiastically. I grinned.

“Oh, I think I’ll be fine, thank you though, loverboy.”

*The End*

Quashed in reality 

Depressed with its brutality

I left its shore

Wanting to explore

What was there on the other side

With health and wealth beside

Along with friends, family and my bride

I marched on with pride

With majestic powers at my feet

Impossible became my defeat

But wait, you have a chance to have pity on my fate

As I'm too late

To get back to reality

Because I'm now a split personality