She doubled checked the address, the numbers on her screen and on the side of the house matched up, but the story didn't. This wasn't how it had played out in her head, there was no landscaped garden, or dolled up party guests spilling from glass doors. She rolled down the window a little and flicked her cigarette butt out of it, just to make the scene a little less pristine. It was fucking with her, she didn't get what the angle might be. One hand on the door handle, the other fumbling to ready another cigarette from the endless stream of smokes, she turned to Os. "Fuck it," she muttered, mouth catching on what the right words might be. "Gonna either catch or get caught by a big fuckin' fish."
Os sucked in the chilled air like a paralyzed patient taking their meals through a bendy straw. He felt like a ball of adjacent emotions, none quite matching with the other, all from different parts of him, criss crossing behind his eyes. He followed Kaylee in, he let her do everything, these were her demons and she would walk into her personal hell first, but he would stay close, a switch that had old flecks of Brooklyn was settled sleepily in his pocket, just waiting to be jostled awake. The place was expensive, he was picturing something else, sketchy druggies, not rich fuck druggies. He could handle the sketchy ones. He let out a whistle once the door was shut behind him as his eyes scaled the pristine facade. "Are we looking for someone?" He asked, his voice quiet so only she could hear.
They stuck out, Os like some dark turned angel clad in leather and black denim, his face said vengeance. He looked like he was demanding violence, but not a fast food kind. Her own face was hard, like it was drawn only of lines as she searched the place, finding traces of the man she was searching for. They were scattered around, in the languid of his party guests, the vacant stares reminding her of the empty faces of his users. Bovine-like, she pushed passes them. "Yeah. Skinny fucker, dark hair," Kaylee murmured back, copying him in the way that her voice could just hardly be heard above the senseless chatter. Seeing a couple clear eyed men disappear behind a door near the back of the party, she nodded towards it. It was as good of a lead as any.
He figured that this was love, this willingness to follow her through this shinning hell, down the vacant eyed pathway and straight to the maker of her demons. He would do this for her a billion times over because this was love, he was more shaken from that, than the mess they were dipping their feet in. He braced himself, nodding at her words, then again once she motioned towards the men who slipped away like secrets through the door near the far end. He made his way through behind her, not giving a shit for the other bodies, he knocked shoulders with a handful of people who weren't paying attention and shot glares their way when they started to say something. When they reached the door, Os shoved his hand into the pocket of his jeans, opposed through his usual fist in his empty jacket pocket, now his fingers brushed the cold end of his switch. He was ready. Kaylee just had to open the door.
Easy or better, that was the choice. Easy or better and she chose and he chose and now there was a door and all they had to do was step through it. He'd brought a knife, he hadn't told her but she could tell by the way he reached for it, she wondered if the cold metal against his fingertips was his comfort like he was hers. "Hey," Kaylee said hesitantly, "Don't do anything fucking stupid okay?"
Knifes weren't for stabbing, it's what he learned first, you graze them, knick the skin of whoever the bastard in front of you is. Stabbing is messy, everyone knows that, once you do it you lose your knife in a gut and your freedom in the hands of the cops--nobody's a killer till they stab or till they shoot, those were finalized notions, bitter ugly notions that had no turning back. "I'm not the type," He said, tossing her an easy smile. "No stupid here." He freed his hand then, instead he covered her's that was paused at the knob with his own.
Kaylee scoffed, a low noise in her throat, and turned, ready to push through the door when his hand landed on hers. Her chest was heavy, tightening, and she stared at their covered hands, the way they fit. They had wasted too much time lingering by the door, two dark smudges against all the brilliance and she opened her mouth, closing it quickly again. "Love you, stupid." It was hardly a whisper, said more through blue eyes wide at the uttered confession. She turned the knob then, stepping into the room.
His head spun for a brief moment, she must have picked the words he was thinking from his head and sprinkled them into the air. He almost said it back, the words had been tied around his tongue for a while, only he didn't know it till now, but she moved quick and they died at the back of his throat. His heart sped up he wasn't sure if it was because of her words or the impending doom, a mixture of both, perhaps. He followed her through, ready for whatever awaited them.
Her first steps were sure, but the second few wavered. There were girls, some who looked like her, dark haired, too skinny. Most of them were the plastic sort of girl, blonde and plush, and they decorated the laps of men she'd once known. The men, she'd called them friends at first, they'd been a good time, they liked that she'd get high, drink more, fight dirty and talk mean. They'd been her friends until they were the gate keepers, then the jail guards. She'd been trapped, and the jailer, the king pin, leered at her like he'd caught her. Boyfriend, that was his name until she was running. "Spent six months in prison because you disappeared, Kayla." His voice was like ringing in her ears.
He narrowed his eyes at the scene littered with pretty guests watched by lazy, yet careful eyes. He could feel his blood boil as he thought of Kaylee in a place like this, younger than she was now, something different than the girl who melted after months of thawing out. He didn't know enough, he didn't know how this would go, what exactly she--they, rather, would have to do to cut the tethers that bind her to a place like this, a place that didn't even feel real enough to cut through. They were detached as soon as they stepped through, Os couldn't say who let the other's hand drop first, but they were separate at the scene, but no doubt they were together, two dark forces colliding with whatever everything else was. He saw her wavering steps, he stayed close, glancing down to find her eyes, he shot her a look, one that he hoped she remembered from the car ride there. I won't let anyone hurt you.
He’d changed from when she’d last seen him, cocaine had stolen more flesh from his body and he looked more like a whip than a man, his eyes like sparkly black marbles. Rat's eyes, the eyes that scanned over a person and decided which part they liked best and stole it. He'd taken her freedom, and so she tried to take his. "Fair's fair." She was practiced in making words come out lazy, pretending not to care, like an idle attendant of life. She could feel Os buzzing near her, he was energy with teeth bared but she felt so damn tired. "Killed that girl as soon as I got three states away. Kayla, I mean." Fingers twitched for a cigarette, something to keep them busy. "She's gone. I killed her and now you have to stop. I can fucking," Kaylee paused, rubbing the back of her neck. "I can feel you, all the time, waiting for her." The crowd was on edge now, buzzing the same way Os was. "Let her die."
He stayed back as she spoke, but he was ready to pounce, his eyes were past her, on those faces she spoke to. He surveyed them for movement, for something to make him have a reason to go. He wanted to do it, to bloody his fists up, they were addicts to drugs, he was an addict to fighting, to drinking, to protecting. He dared someone to do something almost, he listened to Kaylee talk as his eyes were trained on the audience, he fell in love with her words, her pain, her growth from someone with skeletons to someone who tore through the bones and spate them out on the front lawn of the people who put them there.
He looked at her, expression blank as he registered what she was saying. She'd been dreamier back then, always hazed in between an incredible high or a devastating low, and he was accustomed to a girl who didn't say what she felt but talked about the way the rainbow felt or how she only liked ice cream when it was green. He stared at her and she waited, feeling raw, like she'd scraped everything out from inside her and spilled it onto the crisp white tiles. Tipping his head back, he laughed. The first few peals were like trickles, and then the dam released, the rest of the men joining in until it was deafening.
Os knew he had one thing going for him at all times, intimidation radiated off of him like something toxic, he never wavered as he stood behind Kaylee, he was a dark looming like something out of a story book. He knew he might not hold it like that here, these people might not be as afraid of him as the guy who ran earlier was, but he could try. The laughter cut the sting, the last one that made him loose, he stepped forward. He didn't pull out his knife, waving it now wouldn't be wise it would only make more laughter bleed through the scene. Instead he made his presence a little more known, to the main guy, the person who was the reason for their arrival. "I didn't hear a fuckin' joke," He said darkly. "I'd be laughing if I heard something funny."
Laughter cut through her, and she hated it. She was supposed to be hard, harder than nails and pressed steel. Harris wasn't big, but he didn't have to be, he was sharp. He knew people, knew how to fuck with them, knew how to get them to do what he wanted. He was the sticky paper that caught all the flies, all the men in the room followed his lead, pretending like they didn't feel the glue hardening, trapping them. Os stepped up beside her, taller than her but she wasn't in his shadow. A sleezy grin wiped across Harris' face, and Kaylee spoke up quickly. "It's done, alright?" He scoffed. "Done?" Harris looked Os over, "Brought in your doberman, nice touch Kayls."
The guy was skeevy, the type of skeevy that probably got shoved around till he built a place like this around himself. "Doberman, pit, fuckin' rottweiler, I don't give a shit." He said at the mention of his presence, he wasn't lying when he announced that he didn't give a shit, he was like a dog and he knew it, wild, unhinged and desperate with his teeth bearded at the slighted stench of bad blood. He moved quickly, his legs were long enough to complete the way with a few steps, "She could spell done for ya, if you want." He spat, "Or I could help." He then drove his fist into the guy's face, no doubt aiming for his nose.
Kaylee had attended enough Fight Club meetings to grow accustomed to the way Os began a fight, but the first time seeing it was something, a mixture of awe and well placed fear written all over the viewer's faces. He was big, but it wasn't just that. It wasn't size that won fights, it was how much the other person wanted it, and every time he swung he put everything he hated and everything he'd ever hated into each heavy fist. There was a pause, like someone had freezed the frame to mop up the words that he spat out all over the tiles or the steady drip, drip, drip of blood leaking from Harris' nose. It was a moment of everyone holding their breath, waiting for the next move, too unsure to make their own. "Fuuuck," Harris let out, breaking the silence. He touched it gingerly, the busted up mess in the center of his face. "It's broken. He fucking broke my nose," he said, incredulously. The men had started to push aside the girls, they were decorations, pieces of furniture to them that would linger in the background until they were useful once more. "We're going now Harris," Kaylee said cautiously, edging towards the door. If they moved fast they might be able to have some kind of a clean break.
His lips went upturned at the shock on the guy's face, he would have stayed longer, punched the fucker again to let him know just how little they were fucking around, but he could feel it in Kaylee's words. They needed to split. Os held up his finger, the middle one upwards while the others were bent, he flipped off the prick with the bloody nose and made his way towards Kaylee as she moved towards the exit, this wasn't running, they did what they could.
"And who does he think you are?" Harris didn't shout, he screamed. "You were Kayla to me and who are you to him?" Bitter laughter rang out again, his hand holding onto his nose as she ducked through the door, Os behind her. "You won't know her kid, you won't and when you think you do..." His voice disappeared as she weaved through the crowds, pushing aside the guests who got in her way, the fortunate few who were oblivious to what had just occurred. A bottle of pills rested on a side table and she palmed them, a brisk movement as she passed it by. The prescription hardly mattered, if you took enough of anything you could get numb.
The screaming made his back straighten up, he didn't turn only barely flinched at them, he let them bite them like punches. They leaked into his head and tasted of something that felt like sense and he was suddenly breathing fast, wanting nothing more to launch back and kick his ass, break more than the bridge of his nose...try and stop him, those figures who moved towards them couldn't do much from their distance, before he left he grabbed a glass ashtray from a closeby table and threw it towards the guy's head. Fuck you, fuck you. His words crawled into his head like cancer, killed whatever what was good and seeing Kaylee take the mystery pills killed them twice.
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