Page 13

For far too long, I’d been ignoring the glaring issues and acting like everything was fine. Trapped in a life of comfort and routine, it was easy to pretend like everything was okay. I had my hobbies, my job, and my sketching. I had friends I hung out with once in a while, and this apartment felt like home. All my stuff was here.

My parents had died almost a decade ago. A thirteen-year-old without a license stole a car and t-boned them at an intersection, cutting their lives short instantly. Ever since then, I’d been kind of floating through life, losing myself in work. Their loss was a big, gaping hole that nothing could fill, no matter what I tried.

Clubbing, one-night stands, prolific amounts of alcohol—none of them made a difference. The one thing that’d made me feel home again was Bryan, with his steady, dependable friendship and quiet, calm demeanor.

I met him one night at a club, while I was out with my friends Katie and Sybil, when he walked by my table. The girls were chatting with a couple men they’d just met, and I was doodling on a napkin with a tiny pencil. Bryan asked what I was drawing, and one thing led to another. We were inseparable for a few years, the very best of friends.

There wasn’t a defining moment to split the time between when we were close, and when we’d grown apart. It happened slowly. A few extra nights out with the guys, a few major work projects I had tight deadlines for. A couple of instances of brushing each other off when one wanted to talk. Months and months of zero intimacy in the bedroom because someone was too tired or the other had a headache.

It was a long, drawn out path to complacency.

My clutch landed on the table with a quiet thud, and I flicked on the light, carefully stepping around some dirty laundry I’d missed. My instinct was to pick it up, but I refrained. Instead, I headed to the storage closet and tugged out my duffel bag, dislodging a pile of hockey sticks, remnants of Bryan’s high school glory days. They remained on the floor. He could pick them up when he took care of his socks and t-shirts.

The first thing I did was grab my drawings, tucking them into a folder. Next, my pencil and paint cases. They went into the bag, and I placed the file full of paper carefully alongside. Then, I went to my closet and started going through my clothes. There really was no concrete plan other than to get out of here. A hotel room? Maybe. I just knew I couldn’t think while I stayed at the scene of the crime.

My hand froze with a wadded-up sweater clutched in its grip. A creak told me there was something in the living room. There was no further noise, so I continued, opening dresser drawers and tossing things into the bag. It could have been the wind, or just my imagination.

The front door opened with a soft thud, and I heard Bryan’s laughter, followed by a couple female voices. My teeth sank into my lip as I winced. Oh hell no.

It was bad enough I did nothing when I caught him in the coat room, but it appeared he’d finally crossed a line I wouldn’t tolerate even on my worst of days.

Shoving the sweater in with the rest of my things, I zipped the bag shut and slung the strap over my arm.

Nothing could have prepared me for what I faced when I strolled into the living room. There was way too much to look at.

First off, there was Bryan, fumbling with his belt and slobbering all over Miriam. I could hear the gross, wet sound of his lips.

Then, there was Lucy, sans clothing. Not a stitch remained on her. I didn’t know where any of it had gone, but it hadn’t joined Bryan’s filthy socks in any kind of joint venture protesting against my penchant for tidiness.

Then, Miriam was making out with Lucy and Bryan was sucking on Miriam’s nipple.

My duffel bag slid from my shoulder onto the floor with a thunk, but nobody heard the sound. For a moment I was concerned about my art portfolio, and I bent down to check, but then movement near the kitchen caught my attention.

My response should have been to scream, but my senses were so overloaded that I stood there like an idiot, staring at what had to have been an apparition.

The tall man with green eyes stepped forward, his eyes softening when he peered at me. Right behind him was the other man, Kiam, the one with all the black eye makeup.

Lukas lifted a finger to his lips, as if he knew I would start yelling the first chance I got. Kiam looked at me, the edge of his lip curling up slightly, hands tucked in his pockets as if he belonged here. Or as if I’d invited them both to chat over a cup of coffee.

Neither Bryan nor the women noticed, lost in their haze of lust. Miriam’s dress was quickly pulled off by my boyfriend and then Lucy pushed her onto the couch, crawling up her body with her long, lithe limbs.

Lukas slowly pulled off leather gloves, finger by finger while he watched the live porno happening right in the middle of my living room.

He took several slow steps, not making a sound. He walked right up to me and pressed a kiss to my forehead, sending heat coursing down my spine and breaking the spell. I went to push him away but before I could do something about anything that was happening, Kiam appeared in front of me. I never even saw him move.

“What—”

“Shhhhh...” Kiam purred.

My mouth snapped shut and I glanced at Lukas. Unbelievably, his nails started growing. Long, glassine talons that stretched at least eight inches sprouted from the tips of his fingers. My stomach heaved and then they moved. When he’d wiggled his fingers, I’d heard wind chimes.

Suddenly, a breeze rushed through the apartment, and I yelled as my hair blew in my face, partially blocking my view. Bodies were moving in a blur of muted colors; things were falling on the floor, the echoing thuds depicting a vision I wasn’t positive I wanted to observe. But I saw.

Someone’s leg rolled under the coffee table before the wood and enamel split in two. A chunk of scalp with hair attached landed on the floor in a puddle of blood; the liquid quickly covering the strands. Pinkish chunks that made me believe I’d never be able to cook chicken again fell to my left.

Bryan was so drunk he never even realized anyone was in our apartment.

Muffled screams sounded before the space filled with the acrid, metallic scent of urine and copper, and I held my breath. My throat hurt, and I didn’t know if the screams I heard had been mine or someone else’s.