PROLOGUE

The world has finally paused, because I’ve made it. It’s like I can feel every single
thing that’s around me, every water molecule that will get evaporated, I can see.
Every leaf that falls around me I can hear the bruises it gains as it hits the ground. The
burden of every grey cloud passing, I feel. Every voice I’ve ever heard before, I try to
block out. The tips of my pale fingers are shaking.The world seems to be walking at
my pace now- my slow and careful pace. The cold air whips my cheeks and my legs,
wrong day to wear knee length shorts. The heat from my body still lingers and I turn
my head slowly.

I stop watching the leaves fall from the tree, I stop listening to the rhythm of the rain
dropping down from the leaky pipes. I face it, I face what I’ve done. She’s lifeless,
hollow, her once tan skin has a pale blue glow to it now. A brilliant red pours out of her
mutilated gut and mixes with the rain, that’s heading into a nearby drain. The
pigmented red gets diluted and its breathtaking colour turns lighter, what a pity. I
watch every bit of her fade into a drain. I’m tired of standing and every nerve in my
body is electrified so I’m numb and I’m feeling faint.

It’s like I’m the corpse when I fall to the floor, the knife in my pocket, the real criminal
jabs me in the side, so I adjust its position and make my self more comfortable at this
scene that is nothing but art. I’m hugging my scratched up dirty knees and I tuck my
face in them for a bit.

I hope no one comes, but really this is just a reflex thought it’s what you’re supposed
to think in this sort of situation; I’m not scared though fear is just a notion that we’re
bred into. It is a memory to me, this moment will be a memory soon as well, just a
stained memory and those are the best kind. I tilt my head to the side to look her in
the eyes, they're not so sparkly anymore.

The wind picks up its pace and her long brown locks that used to be envied cover her
face, something that was drooled over by guys and girls and now it’s all covered up,
how unfair her face deserves to be seen. You see she was a painting that got
displayed, in contrast to people like me, just a thought scribbled onto a piece of paper.
I get up and fix her hair, tie those luscious brown locks up, brushing my fingers across
her bare shoulders and she’s ice cold, definitely dead. She’s like my doll now, I bought
her off of life and now she belongs to me through the transaction that was death. I
have to wait until all the blood is emptied out of her, blood makes things messy so I
decide to stay close to her instead of sit by the tree that saw her breath taking
demise. That’s one witness.

Behind that tree is the rest of the world, a place that isn’t paused. Out there it’s all
too much, so quick every moment is a fleeting moment.

A habit of mine leads to me getting a lollipop out of my pocket, I put it in mouth and
suck on it, I’m commemorating her life’s work. I notice a red stain on my shirt and
groan, I’m angry but I’ll let it slide considering the fact that she’s dead. Instead I grab
her motionless face and say,
“ We’re even now.” It’s my favourite shirt as well, made of a silky material, feels so
smooth on my skin, it’s all black at the back and there’s a pink flamingo at the front
with green leaves around it. I love the way it looks on me, fits just the way I like it, not
too tight and not too loose. I always button it up to the top usually, I like the way it
pinches at the skin on my neck slightly, gives me feeling, reminds me that I’m still
alive. The first two buttons are undone right now and the air is seeping down my neck
and hitting my chest under the shirt, its cold and I like it.
Whilst sucking on the cherry flavoured lollipop I decide that I’m bored of waiting and
watching her being emptied out like a carton of orange juice . So I look up to the
beautiful grey sky, it’s the perfect shade. Some sections of the sky an ashy smudge
and others a mink shade flying across an otherwise blank canvas. I get my shiny,
sharp criminal out of my pocket and hold it up so the rain can wash it. As I’m looking
up I remember how I would watch the rain with a lump in my throat and tears about to
fall from my eyes years ago, I feel like crying right now it would be a good way to pass
the time but I forgot how to do that. I’m so broken I can’t even force scalding hot tears
from my own eyes.

‘ What a show’ I think to myself taking the lollipop out of my mouth. I take a deep
breath and lay next to her, my doll, I position myself so that I’m looking right into her
hazel eyes. Two lifeless corpses are lying in the rain now. I’m still waiting for every
trace of blood to get washed away by the rain that’s falling in buckets, hers and mine.
I’m bleeding too, inside at least. Disappointing isn’t it, wish it was on the outside like
her because I like the colour red. But girls like her get it all, they even get the tragedy
by the end and that’s beautiful. Her blood and my blood, it’s not the same, I realise
that when it’s dancing into the drain. There’s blood flowing through my veins, but
she’s got Chanel No.5 running through hers and that’s what they don’t teach you in
biology.

I’m lying there numb but thrilled, letting the rain dot my face and something doesn’t
feel right. All of a sudden a cacophony of voices invades my ears; the scarring
screams, the healing humming, the eerie whispers and the judgemental tones. Now a
flash of images take over the serenity of my mind, an image from yesterday, last
week, last month, last year, everything comes back to me. The memories I tried to
keep at bay are back and I’m still trying to forget, but it’s too late the picture’s already
been painted. A flamingo and a butterfly. I can see and feel everything from the
beginning of that summer 3 years ago now.

The cool summer air that rushed into the open windows of the car, the bubblegum ice
cream we used to have late at night, the blood orange sun that set whilst we were
walking in the long green grass. Those green eyes that watched me like I was the only
thing that existed. The eye contact we held like it was a secret language. Passports,
knives, cigarettes and paint, glorious paint. It’s all coming back no it is back. The
lollipop in my mouth tastes sour now as it touches the roof of my mouth and I need a
coping mechanism, my last coping mechanism fucked me over.
4PART ONE : THE RESURRECTION4
1- BLURRY FACE
‘ They have prophecy’s about the anti-christ, movies about the devil but you…no one
could have ever predicted you’, my butterfly told me that once and it’s always stuck
with me.

Boredom. That’s what brings on a fine brand of emotion, there’s this perspective you
gain that can’t be found anywhere else. I like to think that was sort of what started all
of this but I could never be sure I don’t think anyone could ever be, not when you're a
murderer. I wanted to be heard, I was tired of being another person who made up the
audience, I wanted to be watched. I was bored of being a Jane doe. It was so
frustrating going through each day being Millie. The girl with black hair, shoulder
length, the girl with simple features, the girl with brown eyes like the girl sitting next
her and the girl next to her. Millie, the girl who doesn’t talk much. That’s what people
thought of me and I started to think the same of myself, it was like like looking
through mink grey glass instead of rose tinted like those select few. Now all I see is
red and that is a nice colour.

The secret to the silence, is that it’s poisonous. The people who follow the rules are
the most dangerous of all and I urge you to remember that.

I was 17, unaccomplished and an iteration of every other girl who liked to draw and
paint and went to go to an art college. I proved the stereotype.
Each day on the bus it was always me, staring out at the world through the windows
that were usually dotted with rain. I once read this thing when I was 15 on the bus, it
was on another bus that lined up right next to the one I was on, that was the most
interesting thing that happened to me that day. It said, “ Imagine what would happen
if you broke your silence.” It was an ad for child abuse I wasn’t being abused. I’d like
to claim I was, to paint myself out to be a charity case, try to give myself more of a
story but I don’t deserve it. Instead I just decided it could apply to anything and I
imagined what would happen if I spoke out more. It always felt like everyone else
would progress at school and let me tell you one of the scariest things in the world,
when everything shifts but you. I hated being on the edge of change, so close to being
part of it but not quite there. I had hope though lot’s of it, too much if I’m honest. I was
so excited for my life to finally start and I had been for a while. I made wishes on every
eye lash, blew on every dandelion, wished on every star. That was me, just hoping for
something to kick start my life. Breaking the silence in my case back then was talking
more and I thought that was something I should try, because I had opinions, or at
least I thought I did.

Hope it used to be one of my many coping mechanisms, I had hope in all of the quotes
on Pinterest, in every single coincidence, on every single bus Ad.

The next day I was in my P.S.H.E lesson and we were talking about what we thought
about the death penalty being appropriate or not, I thought that was easy enough to
break my silence about. I waited for the teacher with a lisp and hair that was all over
the place, her cardigan falling over her bony shoulder, to stop talking and I was so
prepared. I would talk about how the death penalty was fair because justice had to be
served. I wish I knew then, what I know now because I wouldn’t have said that. A
simple starting point to start my journey to being in the limelight, I thought. I’ll just
start off small and the soon enough they won’t be able to shut me up. Then like a
bullet another fucking Jane doe, Melissa a copy of me shoots her hand up. With her
glossy lip balm, the strawberry one from the body shop just like the one I was
clutching in my blazer pocket, she said everything I had prepared to say myself . After
that for the whole lesson she kept at it, the obvious thoughts that someone had to say
to counter the idiotic boys in our class, stole my fucking plan. She became the voice
for all us silent ones, saying the obvious things the boys in our class wouldn’t since
they all thought they were too good for simple.Then those girls who were to good for
even saying anything, taking snaps in the back of the class, tongues stuck out- little
did they know their lives would end up fairly the same later on. You sit there and think
really and truly people aren’t like that, are they and then you see it and sigh. Melissa
had probably read the same bus ad, difference was that she beat me to putting her
hand up. As soon as the bell rang at the end of the lesson I walked out of the room
with no opinions, none that were special enough. It wasn’t exactly the first time I
realised that all the Millie’s and Melissa’s of the world just aren’t seen as different.

No one was ever watching me, no one until a butterfly fluttered into my field on a day
that was unusually sunny.

When you’re always so bored, you dream of excitement in every single situation but
when it actually happens it’s all too fast. You don’t get to sit down for a second and
think, “ Fuck, life is really beautiful I’m so glad I waited for this.” Instead, for me all
that was left was a burning sensation of having to deal with the consequences of my
momentary high that I was on. It’s like nothing even happened, I was just handed all of
this responsibility that I didn’t want.
July 16th my birthday. 3 years ago. That’s when it all happened, I was truly reborn that
day the world was at my mercy for a few glorious seconds and that’s all I needed to
showcase the love I had to share.

I was 18 sitting in an old pub, I had a drink in front of me, my first ever drink. It was a
whiskey with ice. I just heard the name whiskey on TV all the time so that’s what I got.

I had just turned 18, I entered a pub, I was alone and most importantly scared.

I sat down still alone and still scared and I just kept looking around thinking people
would catch on that it’s my first time at a scene like this and do something bad to me.
It was all old fat men in the Golden lion and a couple of middle aged women smoking. I
would’ve gone out to a club but you need friends for that and I didn’t have those. I
watched the ice cubes in the brown-gold colour of the whiskey, bob around a bit. I kept
clasping my hand round the glass and even put the edge of it to my lips about to take
a sip but I just kept on putting it back down. It was there right in front of me for hours
but I just sat slumped in a stool that wasn’t made for me to sit on. My parents didn’t
want to celebrate with me and my two brothers are way older than me and also
wouldn’t care if I was in a grave right now, they owned a business they started up and
lived in America. The thing with my parents was well how should I put it- they couldn’t
give a shit about these things.
The music in the pub was just a fraction of the noise, especially in the Golden lion,
people just let everything out, glasses smashed on the floor and they all just laughed
not me though, I wasn’t amused just on edge.

When you live the sort of life I do, going to an art college then you’re all alone on you
18th birthday, sitting in the Golden lion of all places you start to wonder about things
most people wouldn’t. Most importantly though, if you are a blurry face like me you
need coping mechanisms. What I mean by this is you have to find something you love
and motivate yourself, I thought that was everyone I mean everyone needs
motivation. For blurry faces though it’s a whole new perspective, you have to cling to
whatever you find because that’s truly all you have, this isn’t an exaggeration it’s a
truth that you only understand when you live it. Blurry faces, we know the useless
things that no one else would care to think about.

Nothing else will ever give you as much absolution as these coping mechanisms.

I’ve had many in my life, I’ve needed many. All I did was concentrate on these little
things to distract myself from the hollow life I lived. There was juggling, gaming,
writing, poker, darts, chess, cross dressing, make up and so many more but most
importantly there was art. That word art, to me is a force and power that is so delicate
and fragile that if you don’t handle it well enough, you loose it. At that point when I
was at sitting in the pub, I had lost my most important coping mechanism. I was
drawing the same things, painting with the same colour and I has just failed the exam.
I lost the coping mechanism I thought I would always have since I was little, the others
were all temporary. In that moment sitting in the Golden lion, not drinking my whiskey
on ice, shoulders hunched up on the table I was just temporary. I had been crying the
whole time in my dark corner and my eyes were puffy and red, the bartender said to
me on more than one occasion, “ Love, just drink your whiskey you’ll be fine after
that.” I just continued to sob loudly, I was allowed to ignore people and what they
thought of me, it was my birthday.

The ice in the whiskey had melted, the tears on my face had dried, the aching in my
chest had made a home and it was a lot later than I had planned to stay in the pub. I
remember seeing my fractioned reflection in the glass and tapping my finger on it
slowly thinking “ lose and hour, gain an hour this is your life and it’s ending one
minute at a time”, it’s from fight club and I always thought about that one sentence
but it had never meant so much than in that moment. I couldn’t paint, I couldn’t
sketch or draw, I was so utterly useless. When I think of the word void I imagine a big
black ball emerging from grey clouds rushing towards me and that’s all I ever painted
because it’s all I ever felt.

What good was I if I couldn’t escape the position I had in the world ? I had been a
blurry face ever since I was given the label “ the girl that doesn’t talk much.” Mixing
colours on a palette had always given me so much purpose more than anything else,
so what was I if I couldn’t even do that right? I would always be on the verge of
getting kicked out of Memphis and every time I was called in to ask why all I painted
was this black ball and grey clouds, I could never answer. Voices would come at me
and I would see lips moving, angry furrowed eyebrows of Mr.Vernon, the Principal and
Ms. Collins my teacher shaking her head behind him with her tight bun and arms
folded. I couldn’t ever hear anything though, it would all go silent and I would just
stare back at them, my lip quivering as I was on the verge of tears. I remember always
being perched into this big soft egg shaped chair Mr.Vernon had in his office, I felt
safer there and I’d have all my art supplies, my grey satchel clutched tight to my
chest. I think they felt sorry for me, so they kept giving me chances and I promised to
do better each time but there I was whiskey in hand, lip quivering and I had painted
another void in my exam that day. Ms.Collins just sighed when she saw and just kept
shaking her head as we all left. I’m surprised her head hasn’t fallen off with all that
shaking. Either way it was clear that I was out, probably just needed to wait to receive
the official letter. Everyone at Memphis thought either there was something wrong
with me, or I was a genius who was actually painting something with a subliminal
message. Technically I was but it wasn’t exactly monumental.

I had plenty of friends in secondary school but in college I decided that friends were no
use, they just made me feel shit, they made me feel like I was one of them. That
would sound ungrateful to the involuntary lonesomes but I liked being my own person.
I regretted it later on of course when I realised being a voluntary loner isn’t so
different from an involuntary one, it was too late when half the year had gone by and
people just steered clear from me.

The pub was closing up and when the loud noise dissolved I felt even worse, the noise
was at least comforting.
“Excuse me love, are you going to drink that in the next 5 minutes because we’re
closing up now and if you’re not I’ll drink it for you”, the bartender said her hair was
messed up and her wrinkles seeped through her make up. I took a deep breath and
stopped slouching in the chair and stretched when I looked at the glass one more time
and just laughed quietly at myself. I thought, “why did I think I would drink that? I’m so
fucking pathetic.” I was ready to leave , I had to anyways so I put my satchel across
my body and picked up my bag full of brushes and a few paints that had all failed me
in the exam that was supposed to save me. But as I was about to walk out into the
cool summer night, I looked back and saw that drink under the dim light, sitting on the
table still untouched. It’s brown-gold colour glistened and before I knew it the drink
was in my hand and it was going down my throat, nice and cold. An unfamiliar taste
that I knew would become familiar soon. The bartender looked at me whilst wiping a
table and laughed as she shouted over, “ I knew you would have it at one point at
least.” I laughed too, for the first time that day and I took a deep breath, looked back
at the glass and thought to myself “ new coping mechanism?” Maybe it was pity or
maybe she just liked me but the bartender gave me a bottle of that same whiskey and
said not to tell anyone she gave it to me and that everything would be alright, it was
definitely pity. I left the pub, on my birthday feeling proud still empty but proud that I
had a whiskey on ice and managed to take a bottle home with me.
I smiled like an idiot almost getting run over by cars as I crossed the road and after
almost dying multiple times. I stopped at the edge of the pavement and looked back
at the Golden lion. I was smiling because as a blurry face it didn’t matter what
expression I had made no one was watching and I had already cried.My toes were over
the edge of the pavement protected by my well worn ankle boots, a piece of me on
the road and the rest of me hanging onto a lamppost. The wind rushed past me, blew
my hair up into a tangled black mess, with a whiskey bottle in hand I’d said to myself
softly, before taking another sip “ the void’s already engulfed you Millie, there’s
nothing left.” I felt like the focus of a busy world, everything moving around me, traffic
lights changing different people walking across the street even the building seemed to
grow taller and I was at the centre of it all. I looked behind me and leaning on another
lamppost only meters behind me another Millie, this one had neater clothes, no ankle
boots but the same black hair, then a few meters away from her another Millie. I
wasn’t at the centre of anything, I was just being swept along with the rest of the
crowd and it was so fucking frustrating. It only took a few seconds for me to realise
that again.

Being alone isn’t fun especially not on your birthday.

I was initially going to head straight home but I decided to go on a walk that cool night
in July, I was drunk for the first time and I didn’t have friends to hold my hair back
when I puked, I had strangers steer away from me. I spilled some of the drink on my
Pink Floyd shirt and it traveled all the way down to my grey jeans ripped at the knees.
That was a stupid shirt, I didn’t know what or who Pink Floyd was and I still don’t. I
walked for what felt like an age but it was more like half an hour. The refreshing
summer breeze eventually turned into a cold and biting wind that whipped my bare
arms. One of the things I remember the clearest from that night is giving up on my
tired legs and sitting in the alley I wondered into, a tree masking it’]s entrance. It
would be the canvas for my new life. Before all of that though, I was a shivering cat
abandoned and lost, wanting to be adored. Eventually I collapsed and was just lying
there.I had that blue tint to my skin the sort you would see on a corpse and that’s
precisely what I was then. I really did think that that was the end, I thought I was going
to die there in that alley. A fragmented person at the hands of a kind of destruction
that’s so merciless you can’t complain about it since it’s self inflicted. My body was
motionless, paired with pale lips and lifeless eyes. Laying on the ground, with a broken
bottle and a dumpster looked like the perfect end for someone like me, easy and
simply solved, a shrug your shoulders sort of death. I died in one way that night but I
was still alive just asleep in the cold, at the brink of death yes but not quite there.

When I woke up, I had a splitting headache, whiskey all over my clothes and drool
slipping down the edge of my mouth. That was the best sleep I had ever had. No
pillow, no mattress, no duvet, just a hard and jagged surface but it was a story I could
tell, I didn’t though since there was no one to tell. I felt like I had gained 100 pounds,
my head was heavy and everything was blurry, even blurrier than usual.The worst part
for me at that point was that I hadn’t actually died. I should have but it wasn’t me
dying that night.

I was still shaking and frozen but there was a thudding in my chest, proof that I was
still alive. I got up, wobbling and the heel of one of my boots broke, a perfect
component to a night like this I’d say.

I got up groaning as I rubbed my eyes and tried to get my balance back, something
woke me right the fuck up as I turned around though. My blood ran cold as I saw this
woman with a rope around her neck, attempting to hang herself. My eyes were wide
open and they followed the rope up to the window of an apartment that was also wide
open, the curtains flying out of it in the wind. My eyebrows furrowed and I mumbled,
trying to say something. She wore a floral dress, beautiful I thought. She looked rather
dolled up for someone who was about to die and her blond curls flew behind her as
she held the loop where she was supposed to put her head. I rushed towards her,
gesturing for her to stop because I just couldn’t get the words out. When I reached her
I was panting slightly and I said something you wouldn’t say to someone who was
about to kill themselves. I said,

“ You’re doing that wrong.”

Immediately I put my cold dry hands over my mouth and shook my head. There was a
pause then, car alarms blared in the background, the wind blew vigorously and we
locked eyes. She had kind eyes, they were hazel, she definitely wasn’t a Millie so why
did she want to die? Afterwards she just started to laugh and for some reason so did I.

“ Why don’t you tell me how to do it then ?”

Her voice sounded like a song, of course it did.

“ No, I’m sorry for saying that I don’t even know what that was. I’m sorry I was drunk
earlier and I’m just unstable. Just.. Um.. Right don’t kill yourself it’s not worth it.”
I scrambled through the words in my head and hoped it would make sense to her.

“ You don’t look unstable to me. You look more stable than most of the people I
know.”
I just chuckled and I didn’t know what to say to her, she seemed so calm.
“ What was I doing wrong? All I was doing was holding the rope.”
I just couldn’t get over the fact that I had said something like that to her and just
shook my head.
“ No it’s not to do with the rope, it’s you. A pretty face in that dress doesn’t commit
suicide.”
I kept on saying stupid things and she just raised a perfect eyebrow. She went cold I
could tell when she spoke, with a harsher tone.
“ A pretty face in a dress like this can’t do anything else, hun.” I didn’t understand
what she meant then.
“ Look either way this isn’t worth it.”
;I have to say something’, is all I kept thinking.
“ Where should I spend my morbid coins then, should I give them to life to spend it on
stretching out my misery?”
She almost whispered and was about to cry, her voice had cracked and I couldn’t
answer her at first.
“ I know you feel like this now but trust me it gets better, you have to give it time and
there are people who can help you.”
She just laughed and I felt like laughing at myself as well it all sounded stupid and
useless but I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“ Who said I wanted help ?”
She sounded like an echo of my very own soul but there was a difference, the Millie’s
of the world aren’t brave enough to go this far. I stared at her, she stared right back
and I had gulped thinking she was going to suddenly kill herself after my feeble
attempts to save her life.
“ My name’s Grace.”
I was shaking, she had the rope over her head as she spoke.
“Millie.”
That’s all I could get out, then finally something had come to mind,
“ I don’t know much about you. I don’t know how hard your life has been but I do know
that suicide’s no way out of life.”
Grace was intrigued, she took the rope away from her neck and I took a deep breath
in, I was helping I was finally helping. Grace didn’t say anything she just looked at the
rope and eventually I found myself also looking at the small brown fibres that were
going to burn her skin and kill her. She held what would bring her demise in her thin
fingers.

She smiled after the wind whistled an eerie tune, she looked like she was ready to give
life another go and finally spoke moving her perfect pink lips, her words were slow and
careful
“ You’re right. Suicide’s no way out. Could you do it ?”
My heart skipped a beat, my body felt that heftiness to it again and a droning sound
played in my head. The colossal wreck that was not only this night but my life was
reflected through the pupil in Grace’s eyes I looked so intently into. I shook my head
but then I spoke.
“ Yes.”
That word changed everything. I’ll admit there wasn’t much thought behind it but the
thought occurred to me after I’d said it. Grace wanted help and I could give it to her.

“Make my death grand will you.” Those were Grace’s last words, I didn’t ask her what
was wrong with her life because we both knew there was no point in asking; when you
say your troubles out loud it makes you immediately sound stupid and a problem is
not so good when it’s tainted by comfort. She wanted to stop going around in circles,
that was why she was here and it would have been cruel to lie to her, tell her to suffer
and stay. She knew herself better than a stranger, there was a reason she wanted
this, I would simply deliver her wish. I had to tell myself some of these things to cope
with myself after what I did to her.

When she handed me the rope to put around her neck, I felt something take over me,
something that had been fighting to get out for a long time. The endless knocking on
the walls of my mind had vanished as I opened the door to what I ran from. My hands
moved without my consent. I felt like a spectator watching my own performance. I
took the rope from her hands and looked at it for a second before dropping it to the
ground.
She didn’t understand. I didn’t understand.

Before she could accompany her confused look with words my cold hands were around
her warm neck. I felt the throbbing of her veins, the beating of her heart. I squeezed
her neck harder and harder. She struggled at first, trying to break free but I wouldn’t
let her go instead I held her up against the wall. Her voice was choked up as she tried
to tell me to stop and with her eyes bulging out of her head and her tongue flipping
around in her mouth clinging to the life she had. Nothing had ever felt so good, no
coping mechanism could have ever compared to me taking away Grace’s life. She
choked slightly, she had goosebumps so did I. What I did to her afterwards wasn’t
necessary. She was already dead, the light had left her hazel eyes but I wasn’t in
control. I found myself hitting her head against the wall a couple of times. The brilliant
red oozed down the wall and my eyes lit up. Those blond curls were flattened against
the wall and her arm that gripped my shoulder before as she tried to make me stop
fell to her side.

That was when it had started to rain and I realised what I had done as small arrows of
water pierced at me.

I had just killed a girl because she asked me to.

I was afraid so I quickly put her head into the same rope she wanted to hang herself
with and let her hang out of the window like she’d initially planned to, I wanted it to
look like suicide.My first reflex to killing was cover it up because that’s what you’re
supposed to do, I always did what you’re supposed to do.

I just stopped.

Life and death. I had seen it all.

It took a few minutes for me to come to a realisation of what I had just done and when
I did my heart was racing, my palms were sweating and I felt a lump in my throat.

I wailed and sobbed louder than I had ever before, I hadn’t realised in the moment the
entirety of what I had done. I didn’t know how to fashion guilt with tears well enough
then. I tried to wipe the blood on her head away with a tissue that was in my pocket
from earlier but soon I realised that the rain was letting it drip down the wall. I was
failing in every attempt to cover what I had done, so I stepped back away from the
horror I had created. When I did, a sick smile forced its way onto my face because
what I saw as I stood back was an opportunity to paint. An open window, a rope, a
beautiful dead girl, faint traces of blood behind her and rain. It was a gift, a canvas
waiting to be mesmerised. I had looked over to search for my my satchel and brushes
waiting on the other end of the alley where I was laying before. Grace’s words
repeated in my head “ Make my death grand.” I had to honour her even if someone
came I had to make her death a magical parade.

I knew I was going to have to turn myself in, if I didn’t I’d get caught either way but
before all of that I had to ignite the flame of wonder that had abruptly and unwillingly
lit in my soul as an artist. Without thinking twice abut the shattered life I left on the
ground near the broken whiskey bottle my hand grabbed the brushes and my big
water colour palette. I chose a thick brush to start of with and my hands were steady,
the strokes big, yellow and beautiful behind her. The rain was the perfect mix of water
I needed. Next was an orange colour that I blended into the yellow and all of the
colours mixed so well, that I couldn’t see how insane everything was at that moment.
Soon enough I had a thinner blue brush contriving details around her head. My hands
did abruptly tremble when paint went on her face, my hand had slipped and her dead
skin kissed my hot flesh, that feeling never gets old.A spot of pink was on her
cheekbone, it was the exact same shade of pink as the flowers at the hem of her
dress. Like a child following the pied piper I followed the brush and it found its way
from the sharp edge of her cheekbone to the corner of her pale lips, mimicking the
flowers on her dress.

Once I had finished I took slow steps back and looked at her, my artwork. I had painted
a yellow sun behind her it was setting and the flowers I had painted on the left side of
her face stretched out into tangled vines I painted with a pale green. Then at her
ankles that were lifted above the ground there were hands grabbing at them, dark
blue like the ocean I had made beneath her. Everything was so wrong but it had also
never been so right. I had these chains tied to my very own ankles as soon as I had
said the word “ yes” to Grace, the guilt could never vanish but each step I’d take after
that with the rattling of the chain would be the music of my purpose. It was twisted
and I hated myself for painting over her, I couldn’t believe I’d done that to a person
but I had certainly made her death grand.

A smile that I fought with to hide away came back to my face and I had never felt so
pleased with myself, it was hurting my head knowing that the only beautiful thing
about my life was murder. As I looked at the vibrant colours and the rain that glossed
over everything but had stopped for now, I heard a sound, someone walking down
stairs. Then the reality set in, “someone no everyone had probably seen me do this”, I
thought and I couldn’t believe that it hadn’t occurred to me before. Shaking and
trembling I picked up my things. I didn’t even sign my name but I was sure some sort
of DNA would reveal me to the police. I only saw the silhouette of a man coming down
the stairs. My lips quivered and I was sorry, I really was.

My boots splashed in the water and I started to hurry off, the thrill of the kill kept
coming back to me. I closed my eyes tight for a second and kept telling myself to get
rid of all these excited thoughts that bombarded me. I heard a musical voice and
stood still for a second my hand over my mouth, this voice said “ Hey, come back.” It
wasn’t threatening, soothing if anything but I was frightened either way.Instead I ran, I
ran faster so I could get rid of the pain, I ran even faster than that to get rid of the
guilt, I ran faster than even that to get rid of the smile on my face.

I may have been running but I had no direction just a buzzing sensation that electrified
every nerve in my body. The rain started to pour down again and I was the centre of
someone’s attention in that moment. That man from before he was chasing me, I
knew he was I felt his presence a few paces behind me, I wasn’t scared I didn’t have
time to be. This guy was relentless and I realised I had to lead him somewhere that
was empty at the very least. My brain rattled with different thoughts, some malicious,
some guilt ridden and the rest mere jolts of excitement.

As we ran into the street that just had to be the one I lived on, I searched my head for
any routes that would lead us to a private place. I had to stop to take off my broken
ankle boot and he gained on me, I couldn’t let panic get the better of me so I just
sucked up the fact that I was going to have to run with one of my harry potter socks
on show. We ran past my house, the plainest one of them all and I caught a glimpse of
my mum and dad watching TV, our cat snuggled up in dad’s lap. At the time it felt like
the perfect picture that captured their essence, it made me laugh a little but a tear
also found its way in because I didn’t know if I’d see them ever again. That’s when I
knew where I was going, I had to go back to Memphis. It was like a second home, one
with a lot of problems and on the verge of kicking me out but still a second home. I
knew it would be empty but still open because people tended to have artistic needs in
the middle of the night, meaning they’d go and smoke something there or talk about
the meaning of life. I’ll bet you anything someone figured it out in one of the rooms,
stimulated with whatever they’d taken, rambling on with all the answers to this
horrible life. July 3rd though my birthday, they were all out celebrating finishing the
exam without me of course. Memphis was only a short walk away from where I lived
and it was a route I could never forget.

2- I KILLED HER AND HE KNEW

“ You killed her.”
He was gentle with his words, and above all he was calm.

“ You’re acting like I didn’t already know that.”

Defence was a great coping mechanism.

“ Look you need to relax, I just want to talk to you.”

His eyes were diligent to the carving knife I picked up on my way into Room 3, my
favourite art room.

“ I’m not afraid to kill you as well.”

I was shouting for no reason, I became an aggressive fire in front of the calmest of
waters.

“ Yes you are.”

The water started to move a bit now, small tremors in its calm. His voice became stern
and his eyes searched mine, searched for something that was probably not there;
humility.

“ Leave, it’s none of your business.”

It was all I could think of.

“ How do you know it’s not? How do you know that Grace isn’t or should I say wasn’t
my wife ?”
He said bitterly taking a few steps closer.

My grip loosened on the carving knives and my eyes widened as habit my lip quivered,
my forehead creased and I swallowed hard, a lump no a boulder wedged into my
throat.

He stepped in closer and closer, hesitant and almost anticipating my next move. I
didn’t have one though, I was at a loss for not only words but everything. When he
saw that I wasn’t moving or talking he carefully took the carving knife out of my hand,
his hands soft against my cold, colourful and shaky hands. His chestnut coloured hair
became apparent to me as I noticed the rain that dotted it and his eyes were the same
shade of green that I’d painted the vines of the flowers with, on the mural that was his
wife. He was ruggedly handsome, a Radiohead shirt on and some black shorts, he
wore all of that and yet he still held dominance in the situation. He didn’t seem like a
husband to me. I tried to get out the word “sorry” but it was no use, I was frozen to his
unspoken command. He put the knife down on a table and leaned in close to my ear,
his chest where my eyes were, he was taller when he came closer. He pushed my
tangled wet locks behind my ear and whispered, “ they have prophecy’s about the
anti-christ, movies about the devil but you…no one could have ever predicted you.”
His words were slow and his breath so warm that it scorched my skin and I was
reminded again of the murder of Grace.

“She said to make it grand.”

I started to sob, I hoped that he would pity me, but he already eyed me up and down a
disconcerted look on his face. I started to get the feeling that he was here for revenge
because he picked up the carving knife and held it tight in his fist, veins popped out of
his arms and he went from a guy wearing a radio-head shirt into an angry husband.
The hatred for me he probably had morphed him into something shockingly wicked,
he came at me fast and I finally managed to say “ Sorry, I’m so sorry about your wife.”
He didn’t seem to care though, his eyes were locked into mine as he lunged forward.

It was dark. I only heard ragged breathing. I was almost certain that I hadn’t been
stabbed but perhaps I was numbed to the pain. Then there was complete silence. I
was breathing in and out so rapidly and I was on the verge of tears.

I realised that his hand was at the light switch, he’d turned the light off for some
reason. In the dark I found his face and his eyes glowing in the dark still looked angry.

“ Just do it already. Kill me. I get it I killed your wife you do what you have to do, I
didn’t want to go to prison anyways.”
I wiped large tears from my eyes as I spoke and I sounded like I was dying inhaling too
much air as I sobbed. He didn’t respond immediately so I kept crying.

“ Will you shut up already. I’m not going to kill you.Look the reas-”

“ Why are you after me then? Can’t you just forget you saw anything and could you
please on the light it’s freaking me out standing in the dark like this.”

I spoke so quickly that even I couldn’t make out what I was saying. He was getting
annoyed I could tell because he banged his hand against the wall hard and he was
also the one holding the carving knife so I kept quiet after that.

“ Look all I need you to do is keep quiet for a few more minutes. I’ll explain everything
to you after he’s gone.”

He peered out of the window as he spoke and the pale light from a street lamp cast
over his face. I couldn’t help but stare, as soon as he looked back at me I looked
straight down and the carving knife had a sudden glow to it. I gulped and just had to
ask,

“ Who is he ?”

He just smiled and said,

“ You’re not the only one who’s in trouble tonight.”

This guy wearing a radio-head shirt had also seemingly done something wrong and I
should’ve felt pleased that I wasn’t in it alone, doing something incredibly insane.
Instead something else troubled me. I had too many questions and thought it was
simply confusion that infested my mind but I knew in my gut it was something else, I
wanted the glory of sin to myself.

There must have been someone right outside because on the pale blue wall of the art
room a large shadow of a man with a fedora watched us. I couldn’t see eyes but I felt
watched from that point onwards. After the longest 5 minutes of my whole life and a
lot of contemplating, sweating and deep breathes he finally switched the light back on.
I looked up to his face and realised it was only inches away from mine. He looked into
my eyes again and he was looking for something again, he obviously didn’t find it
when he moved away from me and put the carving knife on a table. I watched him
nonchalantly walk to the door with a boyish smile plastered to his face. As he reached
the door, my face had morphed into different brands of curiosity through each second
trying to work out what had just happened.

“ You’re not leaving.”

My shaky voice managed to get out, just about loud enough for him to hear and turn
around.

“ What am I doing right now then ?”

He laughed as he walked backwards.

“ I get that I killed your wife and all but you have to explain, you said you would and
you..you said that I’m not the only one in trouble, you can’t just leave me hanging…I
need answers.”
It felt like I was a broken record when I was talking because he wasn’t listening.
He just walked straight out of the door and left without looking back and I rubbed my
creased forehead when I realised he was standing in the doorway again, he had come
back.
“ By the way Grace isn’t my wife, I just needed to get your attention”

Then he was gone for good, his laugh echoing in the room. I kept peering out of the
room waiting for him to come back but I was left surrounded by paintings of other art
students and mine, mine shoved in the back corner a pile of them. That’s how I felt in
that moment tucked away in a back corner and I realised what it was that troubled me
about the radio head guy.

He was a thief.

He had rushed into my life and so carelessly admitted to murder, he made the thrill of
what I did seem like a norm. I hated that more than anything, I wanted this
monstrosity all to myself but I realised that even darkness is in high demand. He made
my purpose a single sheet of paper flying around in his wind of excellence. He
seemingly knew everything about me and I didn’t know one thing about him, what he
did tell me was a lie and I thought there was a guy after him but one lie is surely just
an accompaniment of another. I hated him but I needed him too because above
anything else a girl had died that night, I had killed her and he knew.

All I could do was go back home and wait for the police to come for me or for Mr. Radio
head to tell on me. My heart was racing and I still felt his presence in the room as I
sunk to my knees and I suddenly felt the draft that was coming through the window
chill my bones. I didn’t have the chance to process before but after he left I looked
down to my shirt with whiskey staining it. A broken shoe in my hand and a ripped
sock, my toe poking out of it frozen. I sat on the floor of the Room 3, where my failed
paintings hid in the darkest corner of it with me by their side. All these colours lit up
the room, paintings that used hope as paint came out as beautiful faces or shapes. For
me hope was just a four letter word that produced a big black cloud on a canvas and
murder apparently. I couldn’t do anything right so I went and killed a girl and that was
good for a moment but only a moment. But in a world where right and wrong always
shift maybe what I did wasn’t too bad, after all I gave her this absolution that she
sought. Murder always seemed to be the worst crime but once things were put in
perspective the worst crime jus didn’t exist. Death had never looked so beautiful.

Murderous art was my best brand of whiskey and I could drink it all day long. There
was something so refreshing about killing Grace since it wasn’t entirely evil, there
wasn’t the sort of guilt left with me that you would think. She wanted to die. I allowed
that to happen. I was only worried because that’s all you do in life, worry about the
good because it’s never good enough and worry about what’s bad because it never
gets better.

I had my head in my knees and I was trying to cry but I couldn’t because I didn’t know
how to feel.I needed some clarity and I got it as I lifted my head and saw the carving
knife glistening on the table under the light from the street light outside; my diamond.
That’s when I decided that it didn’t matter. None of it. If they caught me, then that’s
that but nothing would ever take away the glory I had already tasted. It would always
dance on the tip of my tongue, tangy yet so insatiably sweet.

I was free. I lost everything so nothing had value. It felt so good to walk out of that
room, the carving knife in my back pocket, hair messed up, a sick smile on my face
that I wasn’t fighting with anymore. Both my shoes were off and I laughed on the way
home, I was a criminal walking through the streets, people staring at me probably
wondering why I was smug. I knew a secret they didn’t, later on maybe my face would
appear on the news and what an unsettling feeling it would be to have seen a criminal
walking the streets with no shackles to bind them,I thought. I liked to know I had
control even if it was for a few moments but in the back of my head the guy with the
radio head shirt mocked me, with his man of mystery act.

3-HOME
“ Dinner’s in the oven if you want some.”

My Mum didn’t even meet my eyes when I had walked in at midnight clothes
drenched, hands shaking and all I wanted then was her to come and hug me give me
some warmth from that cold world, tell me off for being late tell me that she was
worried. Instead I just brushed passed her in her night gown and curlers in her thin
mouse brown hair, she was getting ready for bed and I had almost been getting ready
for the eternal bed a few hours ago.

My dad watched TV his eyes intensely locked on the screen, he didn’t even look up at
me once. I remember thinking about how it was my birthday the day before and still
they couldn’t be bothered to say anything to me. The morning before my very own
apocalypse an envelope with a cheque for £100 was left on the dining room table and
that was it.

I didn’t care though or at least I didn’t show it there wasn’t a point, when I would
throw fits at a younger age about them ignoring me they would simply say,

“ Be grateful we’re even keeping you in this house you psycho, there’s something
wrong with you and no one can fix it.”

There wasn’t much I could say back to that especially at the age of 5 when I didn’t
quite understand what psycho meant. It was a shrug your shoulders sort of topic at
that point,I couldn’t change anything and nor could they. I didn’t check the oven or
look in the fridge I just got a glass of water and locked myself in my room.

I remember what happened next as if I were there now and even now I feel my chest
burn and my lip quivers, as habit.

As soon as I shut my room door I collapsed onto the floor, my shaky hands clasped the
glass of water using all the energy I had left in me and I drank the water quickly to
calm my self down. Instead I spit it all out like a fountain, the water made a nice ring
around me and it traveled down my shirt too, not that it mattered I was already wet. I
looked at myself in my mirror the second time that day, my damp hair covering my
eyes and I screamed so loud it ripped through the air like a train whistle.

Insanity in it’s purest form. Me.

I started to hyperventilate and clutched my hair as I put my head into my knees and
tried to drown myself away in them. Then naturally the tears came streaming down
my face, I screamed again and heard my mum say,

“ There she goes.”

Her voice flat and bitter, so I screamed more at her words and then at the memories I
had of her. It was all just her shaking her head at everything I did or she simply wasn’t
there. American horror story was right,

“ All monsters are human.”

My mum was a monster, my dad was a monster and I was a monster and do you know
why ? Because we didn’t even need try, we were just naturally corrupt.

I went crazy in my room, although apparently that was me all the time. I took the
uniform of sanity off and traded it for the nakedness of insanity, smashing lamps in my
room, ripping pages out of sketchbooks, in an attempt to forget the colour of red that
left Grace’s cheeks as I strangled her to death. Why did I have to do that ? Why was I
constantly messing up my own life ? It was frustrating to a point of no return.

Whilst I continued on my rampage my dad called out to me ,

“ Shut up you little bitch.”

Dad of the year.

I threw the glass I had gone to for solace at my mirror cracking it, the pieces smashed
across the floor mixing with the fallen water. Shards of glass dispersed around me, like
rain it was comforting. Everything was breaking, spilling, falling and collapsing me the
biggest wreckage amongst it all. Then I did what I hadn’t done before; I started to
laugh hysterically.

Broken glass, water, torn bits of paper made a nice bed for me to lie on and throw my
fits of insane laughter. After what seemed like forever I was silent, no laughing and no
crying just watching. I watched the shadows outside my room, not lingering and swift
full of distaste, at one point the shadow of my mother wither curlers stopped in front
of my door and I scrambled to my feet. My eyes like a puppies, tears decorating my
pitiful face and I dragged myself to the door the shards of glass scraping through my
thin black socks. I slipped on water and felt a large piece of glass cut through my arm
but I paid no attention to that, my mission to the door was more important. I reached
the door at rest day head on the rigid brown slab of wood that drew the barrier
between me and the rest of the world. I could see that she was still there and even
then when knew hope was only a four letter word - I hoped. I hoped she would come in
and give me a hug, tell me everything was okay ; I just needed something- anything.
Instead I got this,

“ Millie.”

Her voice skated shakily on ice.

“ I want you to know. I refuse to believe that I gave birth to something like you. If
anyone asks tell people you don’t have parents.”

Ice had nothing on her actually.

From the crib to now, Mum I’m still crying and you, you’re all I wanted from the crib to
now but I never got you.

The worst part was she hadn’t even seen me killing Grace, it’s just what she thought
of me and she was right.
I staggered to my bed after that, I was emptied of all tears but my lip quivered out of
habit and I stared at the blood stains on me that were free tattoo’s for my mind. I
slipped again, my socks damp at the bottom and the same shard of glass I’m sure,
pierced through the skin at my stomach, slowly and painfully. I would’ve screamed
had I not ripped out my vocal chords earlier, instead I grunted and forgot to care about
the physical pain. I just got two scarfs that were on my chair and wrapped one on my
arms and the other around my waist. The cuts weren’t too deep, but they certainly
weren’t scratches. As the sun rose painting the sky orange with hints of pink I made
sure that before I landed my broken self on my bed and took some pills, Zoloft to
make me smile. See I couldn’t do it the normal way I needed little white capsules to
get the chemical in my brain to make my happiness work properly. I was a good girl
and I took my pills, about 7 of them. I really should have died that night, little did I
know there were many nights like that to come.

4- BUTTERFLY
The next morning was a blast of posts on Instagram and Twitter. Someone had taken a
picture of what I did and posted it online. I woke up in a buzzing in my head and my
eyes could barely open but when I realised that there was now a physical copy, a
reminder of what I had done I jolted straight up in bed. The whole world was
examining my crime. There were millions of comments and the more I read the more I
noticed that they seemed to simply assume that it was street art. The world was also
examining my art. I didn’t know how to react and after the night before I had been
emptied of all emotion, so I simply did not react.

After all the tossing and turning in bed every night, I didn’t know how long it would
last but I decided that it didn’t matter, if I had spent all my time worrying about being
caught I would probably die of the anxiety. Bright and early in the morning there was a
smile on my face, just because it was the only costume I had left, my other ones were
in wash. A tickling sensation in my gut urging me to start the day; everything seemed
brand new for no apparent, only I didn’t realise what type of new.The scares I had tied
to my wounds had loosened and when I unwrapped them all I saw what I didn’t ever
expect; there was nothing there not even a cut, nothing. It was like those shards of
glass never cut me to begin with and I thought then that my mind was so lost I must
have imagined it. I looked around my room and it didn’t feel like my room, all of my
things were still the belonging of a blurry face but being a blurry face had turned out
to be good for me. “ From here on after I am free.” I said out loud only saying it for the
sake of it, completely aware that I was a dead girl walking, ironically enough.

They probably knew by now, the police. I turned to the left side of my bed where my
mirror was and took a long hard look at myself and for once it was going to be okay,
no matter the result. These thoughts were another coping mechanism.

I got out of my bed immersed in the thought of the prison life and as I got to my desk
which couldn’t have been more disorganised, I saw a box of paracetamol glowing in
the light of the sun; my saviour. I wondered in that moment as I gulped water that was
surely stale, if the police cars outside were for me. It was like I had been numbed to all
feeling, I was so nonchalant as I changed into a pair of black jeans and a plain white t-
shirt. I popped my head out of the window and saw that the cars were like scorpions
waiting for me to come out, positioned so carefully and waiting for me to show my
face. I knew they were coming for me the second I clasped my hands around Grace’s
neck, it was the inevitable cause of murder. I walked out of my room, fearless just a
hollow shell of what I had been my whole life. As I left my room, dragging my feet, I
saw how much of a mess it was and maybe it was the unfolded clothes or perhaps the
dry paint that was everywhere but suddenly I didn’t want to leave anymore. I wasn’t
really that ready, I had just coaxed myself with what I needed to but when I knew that
it was all really out there waiting for me, my facade was fading. I wasn’t free and
nothing was going to be okay.

They could come to me, I wanted to be chased if it was going to be that way. To feel
wanted and the centre of focus, there was a thrill to that behind all the fear. I had
decided to relish in every slow moment that I had left. I loved the mess that was my
room because it spoke a truth that nobody else could identify but me. It was a secret
and I enjoy secrets; it was evidence of both failure and the tastings of success. In my
room I had gone to all lengths to create something that was worth looking at. I
painted, I sketched day and night my hands going red and black from oil pastels.
Although I never managed anything quite as glorious as my mind had craved so
longingly for each torn up piece of paper, each canvas tucked in the back of my
cupboards they held my happiest memories. There’s always this feeling you get when
you watch your hands move as you paint and you can see it all coming together
without even having to finish it, that feeling is hope in its finest of forms. All these
contorted shapes that I tried to hide under my bed and when I ran out of space under
my bed I shoved them in every possible corner, they held my stories. I also had my
darts, juggling balls, knitting books, cooking books and all of my other coping
mechanisms scattered around. It was all such a shame, all of this investment into
bettering my life and by the end I was about to go to prison. The cars were still parked
outside, soldiers awaiting the order of the police officers talking to each other
discreetly. The curiosity grew in me as I leaned over the ledge of my window to
discover them handcuffing someone. It was someone that wasn’t me.

“ Get in you fucking crackhead.”

A police woman said as she tried to get chase this man.

I heard those words and even through the rush of things the world paused. My heart
had skipped a beat, they weren’t there for me. Had they not seen Grace yet ? Or was I
really just that invisible?

Then just like that guy who was walking unsteadily into street lamps, most certainly
high was caught by the beefy police woman who obviously couldn’t wait to shove him
into the car. As he was walking into the car he walked past the crowds of nosy
neighbours who would otherwise never leave their houses and he pointed to each of
them saying, “ Your not a butterfly. Your not a butterfly and neither are you.”
Everyone edged away from him, his hair tangled up till his shoulders and crooked
teeth he wasn’t afraid to display. Just before he was forced to sit in one of the police
cars he locked eyes with me, I felt like he could see my dirty soul, he pointed a shaky
finger at me and said, “ You. You are a butterfly or perhaps something more.”

All eyes were finally set on me but they diverted quickly back to him as he laughed
maniacally.

In seconds they all left the engines roared as they had claimed their prize. I was left
staring out of the window and realised that everyone else was doing the same. The
glory that I surely deserved was taken from me, I was a criminal too but they paid no
attention to the girl watching from the window. I was the true culprit but instead this
man had stolen the stage I was destined to perform on, what a shitty show at that too.
It was all unfair I deserved that seat in the back of that car but I was left staring out of
my window after all of that I was just another blurry face again.
 All heads of suspicion were pointed in every direction but mine and one thing I can
say with certainty now after all of it, is that I wanted the attention.

I realised I was being crazy as the wind pierced my face that was out of my window.
This is all I could have ever wanted, I should have been grateful, I told myself I would
be free no matter what and when it looked like that was true instead I was enraged for
a reason that I couldn’t explain then. I didn’t care that I had killed Grace because in
my head it wasn’t awful since she asked for it. Grace was never a person to me I had
always seen her as an object to morph into something else and that was why I could
never link any guilt to her murder. She asked and I gave. Again as I thought these
things I knew it was wrong and I tried to shake these ideas that were unlike me away.

My emotions had transformed into something so incredibly foreign to me.

I was a car shiny and new and I had only been for a test drive so far, the joyride was
yet to come.

I walked out of my room glancing back in the mirror and saw that on my face a hollow
look rested; the girl in the mirror didn’t look like me anymore. Sure I had the same
brown, boring eyes but they were filled to the brim with an experience that could
never be unseen no matter what.I blinked and I tried to smile to make it go away. I
thought that perhaps I had spent too long, thinking about being caught that I forgot
there was a possibility that it wouldn’t happen. I felt like a new person sure, I can’t say
anyone is the same after killing a person- but it wasn’t like all of me had been
eradicated. Some of me was angry but the other parts were just clueless. It’s like there
was a civil war between the chemicals in my brain and the cells in my body. I felt
impulsive and restless but also scared and guilt ridden. I wasn’t sure then why I was
guilty but now I know that the guilt wasn’t because I had killed like I thought in the
moment, it was because I wanted to do it again.

I was frustrated as I stared into that mirror and looked at my face, it was unchanging.
I didn’t want to be this hollowed out person but I didn’t know what other identity to
assume.

Walking into my kitchen felt as if I were simply a ghost, treading the same path as I
did just yesterday. I didn’t even belong in my own house anymore.

A bowl of cereal didn’t taste like cereal, instead it tasted like rusting iron or at least
what I imagined it to taste like. Toast in my mouth was like crunching bones. Milk was
just another liquid, so white at first but my murder impaired vision, turned it into an
everlasting red.

My world was coloured in with colours I wasn’t used to. Grey, black and mostly Red.
Actually maybe, I was used to them but before I had other options at least.

Coco pops were scattered around the table, milk spilt in different areas. The box of
coco pops hanging off the edge of the table, about to fall off and me doing the same
but in my chair. I leaned my head back and just looked up at the ceiling, I had only
been awake for a few hours and I was dozing off already. It was a dark day, the sort
where you think it must be the evening but it’s only morning. The kitchen light never
looked so bright.

I thought about the high guy who got arrested and was screaming about butterflies,
maybe I was high on something it definitely felt like it then.

“ You killed someone Millie.”

I screamed it out loud, in my kitchen with all the doors locked so no one would hear.
My parents had long gone to work, they couldn’t hear what I’d said. My mum working
as a vet wouldn’t hear anything while she checked rabbit shit to see if they had
diarrhoea, telling another little girl or boy their rabbits would be fine. She wouldn’t be
able to hear anything over all of that. My dad under a car, fixing whatever it is that’s
wrong, talking with the other workers in dirty overalls. He wouldn’t be able to hear
anything over engines roaring.

“ They both fix problems of some sort”, I said to myself “ so why couldn’t they fix
me?”

It felt good to say these things out loud for once. It was 10 AM. I should have been at
Memphis 2 hours ago but there was no way I’d go back there. Sitting right under the
kitchen light for hours seemed like the plan, I sat with one leg on the table another
illegal action, why not ?

The clock read 10:30 when I realised something was making the kitchen light flicker,
something was fluttering around it, a moth probably I thought. I focused on it but it
wasn’t a brown creature instead it was white. My eyebrows furrowed as I realised that
it couldn’t be a moth, what I was looking at was a butterfly.

It was moving rapidly like it was in the middle of some sort of frenzy, so I got up
carefully from my seat and climbed onto the kitchen table. My face was only inches
away from the light and the butterfly as I stared at it, the butterfly moved away from
the light and closer to my face until it was perched comfortably on the bridge of my
nose. I felt my heart race and I gulped as I moved slowly off the table. I thought the
butterfly would have been skittish at any slight movement and it would have flown
away, it was however motionless on my nose. I just sat back down on my chair, most
probably looking cross eyed as I looked down at the bridge of my nose. It stayed like
that for a few minutes and I studied it’s perfectly even wings, realising that there were
intricate and thin gold curved lines at the rims of its wings. It couldn’t have been real.
It’s little antennas moved from time to time and at first I’d flinch but I got used to it.

The urge to sleep returned and this time my eyes had a mind of their own slowly
closing as the butterfly moved off of my nose. I looked down in a daze, to see it on my
wrist now, it almost stung as it traced its legs across my wrist carefully. I swallowed
hard when it started to draw what felt like little eight’s, it went from stinging to
burning. All I could do then was stare down and hope that nothing would get worse. I
remember hearing the rain punch at the roof of my house all of a sudden, making me
jump with a start and the butterfly flew off as I jerked my arm.

The burning stopped for a second.

The rain poured down harder.

The burning started again.

Drip. More and more rain fell.

My arm had a red rash on it and I wanted to itch it so badly but I knew it would only
make it worse.

Drip. The rain wanted to come inside as it knocked continuously at my roof.

I was loosing my mind watching my arm swell up second by second.

Drip. The rain was coming in, there was a leakage right on top of me.

My sanity was playing hide and seek with me and I had forfeited the game.

Drip. I remember the drops of rain from the hole in our roof so vividly falling on my
forehead.

The pain was becoming excruciating.

Drip.

I ended up screaming and crying on my kitchen floor grasping my arm so tight, I

thought I could have pulled it off if I wanted to. My eyes darted around in search for
the butterfly but I couldn’t see it anymore so I did what I do best I cursed. I breathed in
and out quickly hoping the pain would subside but instead when I looked at my arm it
had these red spots decorating it.

“ I don’t deserve this.”

I said that over and over between heart wrenching sobs, through the clear kitchen
door I saw a reflection of me on the floor curled up in a ball holding my arm, my eyes
red, my hair a mess and I had never felt more sorry for myself. I hated pitying myself,
well no that’s a lie I loved it I just didn’t like admitting it. All I ever did was pity myself,
always thought that the world owed me something and I had a long receipt, there was
no point to it all though. Pity was an exquisite form of self destruction, it let me think
my pathetic life was justified.

I had always thought it was the world that was fucked but as I looked out from my
kitchen and saw the rain glossing over everything, traffic was loud but flowers were
still blooming, the sky was grey but it was still pretty. You see, everything just worked
but there was one thing ruining what I saw outside and that was my sorry reflection, I
was what was fucked.

I screamed continuously and saw in my eyes that I was definitely a dreamer but I saw
how dreamers always get left behind in that moment. Blurry faced dreamers like me
are the best evidence of true passion but also the truest of failures. I screamed so loud
and no one heard a thing, only I heard the echo of my own cry for help bouncing
against the walls of my empty house, mocking me.

My arm wasn’t recognisable as I turned to lay on my back, the spots grew larger and
my skin wasn’t visible I just had this giant red arm. I stared up at the ceiling in a frenzy
of pain and started to cry louder, I didn’t know what else to do. I thought I was going
to die then, I wasn’t sad about it just impatient.

The single lightbulb on our ceiling was barely hanging and I realised that everything in
my house couldn’t be more mundane especially the kitchen. Everything was either
grey or white. The chairs white, the walls the sort of grey you feel on your worst days
and our beloved kitchen table of course, a slab of wood positioned awkwardly smack
down in the middle because that’s all my parents were bothered to do with it, their
parenting skills weren’t much different.

The pain in my arm only grew and I only screamed louder until everything started to
fade out, I started to breathe slower as spells of dizziness were cast, my chest was on
fire like someone had lit a match right where my lungs were.
I heard a whisper spike the drink that was my life, intoxicating me completely .

“ Millie you killed Grace.”

This hushed but high voice said this over and over until finally I was out like a light,
every nerve ending in my body electrified with a craze I couldn’t identify as familiar.
My arm wouldn’t stop shaking even as I lost myself in what felt would be a 100 year
sleep.

5- RADIOHEAD REX

Wednesday morning I sat in a bus my headphones jammed into my ears, my eyes red
and sore. It had been a few days since the meltdown I had in my room. The butterfly in
my kitchen must have been a hallucination and all of that screaming on the floor was
probably my psychotic behaviour coming out. When I knocked out turns out on
accords of my disdainful mother that I was asleep on the floor one of her vodka
bottles near my head, empty. I was so sure something else had happened but
apparently not.

Everything seemed so much louder, every sound was so distinct and again so loud, my
music was turned all the way up but still I could hear people’s pointless conversations.
I was on my way to pick up some medicine, for my brain.

“ Mum. Mum. Mum. Mum.”

This little girl kept on poking her mum and saying that, it was tiering seeing that go on
for 10 straight minutes and a little unbelievable to see her mum stare ahead and pay
no notice at all, I think she had to collect herself in case she screamed at her. The
mum had her hair in a messy bun and her daughter had a giant lollipop that she only
licked a couple of times and that just made me even hungrier. I hadn’t eaten all day
and I didn’t have much money so I had to ration it, since it was clear my parents
weren’t exactly keen on lending me money, I had to find a job. I sat with a flimsy
brown rucksack in my lap, feeling the shoulder of this old man against mine cramming
me; I was hunched up against the window barely breathing. I had nothing else in mind
but getting my arm and stomach sorted, I wasn’t planning on wasting my time on
figuring thing out.

In a world that’s constantly changing there aren’t fixed answers so what’s the point of
answers if they’ll be wrong soon enough.

I wish now that I had been more curious sooner about what seemed like this spasm of
events, instead I was drowning in attempts of forgetting.

I sat in that bus trying trying to forget that I had killed a woman named Grace.
I turned up the volume of my headphones trying to forget the fedora man.

I tapped on the window trying to forget the butterfly with thin golden patterns on its
white wings.

I closed my eyes tight trying to forget my parents and my meltdown.

I stopped breathing to forget the guy in the radio head shirt who new my secret.

I dug my nails into my skin to forget my sick smile as I strangled a girl.

The other thoughts dissolved away amongst the most concentrated one, I had a vivid
memory of my version of what had happened when I had passed out a few days ago
and trust me when I say there was no vodka bottle.

I was kissed awake by the lustful lips of the cold night, I wasn’t asleep though when I
came back to my senses I was walking around in the pouring rain my arm still aching
as I staggered through the streets with flickering street lights and garbage cans flying
with the gusty wind. There was a sick smile on my face, a deadly look in my eyes and
sinister intentions in the tips of my fingers. It’s like someone had used black dye to
colour the sky that I last saw was a greyish-white.

I’ll never forget the horrifying image I saw in a big puddle that the rain made small
ripples in, something that has been engraved in my mind ever since. I put a shaky
hand over my mouth and let out a sharp gasp.

I had let that sickening feeling take over, I let the darkness seduce me to a point of no
return as my blood stained shirt had revealed. Something was so terribly wrong with
me and I never meant any of it. I promise you that, as you read this disarray of all my
thoughts you have to believe that no matter what I say I never meant it. I was a mess,
more than a mess and I didn’t know how to feel about anything at this point. I had
barely gotten over the fact that I had just killed Grace but there I was standing in the
rain covered in blood, rubbing my hands over my face knowing that I had morphed
into something that wasn’t human. I fought with myself as an exhilaration kept on
resurfacing amongst the sea of anxiety that had built up over all of this. I was in front
of a comic book store called ‘ Forbidden legends’ for some reason and as I looked
around at the near empty streets that would echo my memories as I tried to
remember what had happened. A few cars cruised by as I stood like a zombie outside
of the store with it’s sign half hanging off and saw that the Golden lion was directly
parallel and I would be there in seconds after the zebra crossing. Why was everything
on loop?

I looked out onto the smooth roads and all of the street signs with small turtles on
them, I saw me leaning against a lamppost 2 weeks ago in front of a chicken shop.
When I looked to my right I saw me sitting on the bus stop that was a few paces away
and when I looked ahead at the Golden lion I saw myself just yesterday with a whiskey
stained shirt. I was always back in similar situations in similar places, a look of misery
always stuck to me like a leech, in that moment however the difference was that I had
murdered 1 person and possibly a second. My face from 2 weeks ago and then had
shifted slightly.

A change, a chance.
Through the confusion something was in the works in my mind, it was as if I was in
surgery but I didn’t even know. I snapped out of my trail of thoughts as I realised that I
had to remember what had happened, it could have been virtually anything for all I
knew. I could be running from the police, hiding from someone dangerous. Although it
was the last thing I wanted to do, I remembered a guided mediation exercise I did, a
coping mechanism I’m not as proud of.

I had to breathe in and listen to all of the sounds around me. The pouring rain, the
sound of cars splashing puddles, the whistling of the wind and this rhythmic knocking
in the back of my mind. I tried to immerse myself fully into my memories a stinging
like pain became apparent to me at my gut so I lifted my blood stained shirt to see an
open wound.

The blood was mine. I was the prey.

At the sight of the cut at my gut that was bigger than you would think I retched and it
was easy to fall into a pathetic, helpless state at that point. I just wanted to wait for
help, I would be that person who a few people pass wondering what’s wrong and then
one person finally realises and hollers for help; everyone gathers around, sirens
blaring and I’d be the centre of it all. Beneath it all, I was another self important bitch
and I wanted attention but I knew that I was a murderer myself so it wouldn’t be a
good idea for me to be in the public eye. It had just dawned on me that I didn’t know
much about what the police knew in regards to the murder of Grace. I looked at my
bleeding arm then reluctantly at my bleeding gut and just thought that perhaps prison
life would be better to me. I winged as I sat there covered in rain and blood again and
the man who got arrested earlier that day came back to me for some reason.

“ You’re a butterfly.”

Those words played over in my mind again and again, then that butterfly I had seen in
my kitchen was so clear in my head that I could see it. I cried out on the brink of my
death,

“ I’m a fucking butterfly ”

and laughed hysterically. The only thing I wondered was who had stabbed me, I had
no memory of this deadly transaction that had taken place ; my life had been traded in
for the price of some sick fucker stabbing me in the gut. Then it hit me, I was a sick
fucker too and that just made me laugh more and wheeze a little since I was still
bleeding out from two places. It seemed like the perfect way to die at the time, I had
murdered someone and so I had got back what I deserved and I didn’t need to do any
jail time, perhaps eternity in a grave but I’d be dead at least. I didn’t need to sell my
soul off to the devil it had left me long ago when I had killed grace. The longest
minutes of my whole entire life passed like years of torment and that’s when I saw the
light.

That was just a strange story in my head according to mum, instead it was all just me
drinking vodka. I didn’t buy it then but I was so rattled by everything, that I chose to
believe it to make things easier, the same way we all choose to believe in everything
essentially.

The world was fading out as my heavy eyes were closing and my girl loosened on my
rucksack, the bus ride was long for where I was going, Melrose peak.I couldn’t got to
my usual pharmacy had to go to some other town, my shitty one ran out out of the
stuff I needed. The guy behind the counter referred me to the next closest one and I
was desperate to get the Zoloft.
I was slipping into that state of finally being pulled into a dream after days of no sleep
but then my state of euphoria was utterly annihilated.

My eyes had never been so wide open as I recognised next to me was Radiohead guy,
this time a shirt that read ‘ killer clowns from outer space’, a movie that I had
admittedly watched. I almost scrambled up against the window I was near, like I was
being cornered and everyone glanced at what seemed like exaggerated movements.
Radiohead guy just sat there calm and didn’t even look my way once. When I settled
back down into my seat I noticed a briefcase in his hands and he definitely did not look
like the working type; if he was the shirt he was wearing was ironically enough a killer.

“ Never sat next to a stranger on a bus before ?”

His musical voice started to play and gave me another fright causing the same
reaction as before and the little girl who was annoying her mum looked at me rolling
her eyes, even the kids judged me. I cleared my throat and responded meekly,

“ I just didn’t expect for you to be the stranger is all..”

I furrowed my eyebrows and then managed to say with some more confidence,

“ Why are you here by the way ?”

He finally looked at me, his eyes locked with mine and I didn’t know then that the
uneasy feeling in my chest was because he was eye candy to put it simply. I found my
self staring into his green eyes with embers of brown placed so perfectly in what
looked like a whole other world, in just an eyeball.

“ The same reason you’re here. In fact the same reason anyone else would be on a
bus. I have places to be and no car.”

He smiled coyly at my disappointed look.

“ A bit of a coincidence though, isn’t it ?”

I was trying to uncover his man of mystery act and it was pretty good if I’m to be
honest.

“ Is it though ?”

“ Yes it really is and since you’re here are you going to explain what happened the
other night.”

“ What night ?”

I used a hushed voice and looked down at the dirty floor of the bus, chewing gum
decorating it.

“ Are you kidding me right now, come on the man with the fedora and the art room
and well you know what else.”

“ Oh right..”

He raised his eyebrows and was loud

“ the night you killed Grace.”

I kicked his leg hard and he was really testing my patience.

“ Yes shit head now keep your voice down.”

He seemed so undisturbed that it disturbed me, he just started laughing as he rubbed

his shin where I had kicked him.

“ So who was that man chasing you and with regards Grace you didn’t tell anyone did
you ? Are you going to, is that why you’re here to threaten me ? Look I don’t have
much so your best of just turning me in then because I barely paid for Art college, so
I’m sure you can imagine and my parents. Don’t even get me started on my parents, if
you kidnapped me and held me for ransom they wouldn’t give a rat’s ass okay you
have to belie-”

“ Slow down there Millie.”

He put his hand on mine and I got goosebumps when he used my name. My mouth
opened to ask how he knew my name but he cut in, leaning in closer to me and said in
a whisper,

“ I can answer all your questions at the right time and place, this crowded bus is not
either one of those, Millie.”

I just nodded and those green eyes were closer to me now so I couldn’t help but
shamelessly stare into them again.

More people crammed themselves into the bus and I had hastily stared away after he
met my eyes and it had occurred to me that he was always using my name and I
didn’t know his. He was looking in the other direction scanning each and every person
who has just entered the bus.

“ Hey um.. Radiohead guy.”

I was surprised that he actually whipped his head around his eyes squinted and head
tilted as he asked in confusion,

“ Who me ?”

“ Yeah sorry I don’t know your name and I just remember your t-shirt from that day.”

“ Oh right, It’s probably better for you not to know my name actually so Radiohead
guy sounds cool to me.”

“ Nah that’s not how it’s going to work. You clearly already know a lot more than me
about whatever this whole thing is, I at least deserve a name.”

He paused and considered that for a second.

“ Fine. The name’s William.”

I looked at the ink of a tattoo peaking out of his shirt near his neck and was curious to
see what that sharp arrow of ink would transform into, but also frowned at what he
said.
“ Yeah that’s not your name.”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“ It is to you.”

“ Fine then if you won’t tell me I’ll make up my own name for you ‘cuz William is just
shit.”

He laughed at that and it was genuine, his eyes creased at the corners and it’s hard to
ever forget him when he’s happy, one of my coping mechanisms.

“ Dexter because you seem like a serial killer.”

“ I mean he’s kind of a good guy isn’t he and if anyone’s a killer that’s you?”

“ Hm..you could say that yeah.”

I said in response to both of the things he’d said, it stung my open wound when he
called me a killer but I dismissed it.

“ What else have you got ?”

“ Damon I feel like you have a brother called Stefan so..”

“ No Vampire diaries bullshit.”

“ Okay, then what about Rex.”

He looked down at his shoes and thought about the name I had suggested and finally
gave an approving shrug.

“ So Rex where are you really off to ?”

The bus rushed past the world and instead of looking out the window like I should have
been I was under the spell of Rex and didn’t realise it was my stop.

“ Me, well I got to my destination a while ago.”

His cryptic mannerism got under my skin every time we spoke and poisoned me into
his thought day and night, he ruffled his hair before getting up out of his seat without
a goodbye or even a glance at me. My eyes followed his slow gait that the world
seemed in tune with, I had never seen the bus driver hold a door open for so long. As
he was about to leave through the slender doors he looked back at me and smiled his
boyish smile. I gripped the sleeve of my grey cardigan tight. A feeling was festering
in the depths of my blackened heart that saw some hope, wonders thoughts made
homes in my pretty little head but then as I saw the bus rush past a few familiar stops
I turned pale. I had missed my stop. I had forgotten why I was even on the damn bus
and I almost leapt out of my seat but as I did something stopped me, a black leather
briefcase- Rex’s briefcase. With not enough time for thought I grabbed the briefcase
and slung my rucksack over my shoulders, ready to plead to the bus driver.

People stared at me, all of them in unison, I wondered if they practiced the unison
judgement in their spare time. The little girl from early sucking on a lollipop, her big
bright eyes telling me that I looked insane, her mothers slender catlike ones doing the
same as she guarded the daughter she was just ignoring from me as I passed.
His name was Rex and as he left that bus, he left with my heart and I had no clue then
that I was merely a corpse fashioned into one of his dolls.

6- PILLS AND THRILLS

I searched frantically for a guy with a strong build but not too strong just better than
the yellow-faced thin men that passed me giving me strange looks. I shoved past
people in hopes of seeing him and I was so sure that I could catch up to him if I saw
him, he had only left a minute or so before me. The briefcase’s heftiness became
apparent to me as I lugged it around trying to find Rex until I finally paused and it was
in the middle of people crossing roads, bustling past each other that I realised a hand
was on my shoulder. My head turned around at the speed of light, it’s shocking I didn’t
get whiplash.

It wasn’t Rex though. Every time I’m grasping so desperately onto my last few breaths
I always felt that Rex would come for me but he never did, he was just always on my
mind never in front of my eyes.

“ Miss you dropped this.”

A middle aged woman tapped my shoulder and handed a sketchbook of mine back to
me. I had only then realised that my rucksack had been open this whole time. The
leather packaging with a dandelion stitched on the front gave comfort to the aching in
my heart that never faded, it was a prized possession of mine, unscathed and full of
every thought my mind ever illustrated; a big coping mechanism.

The woman seemed in a rush herself, her coats buttons mismatched and I had noticed
her before slipping into the heels that were not made for her age hurriedly, whilst
constantly looking at her watch. Her mouse brown hair was thrown into a messy bun
and her face only looked like the shadow of what used to have some colour in place of
the thinning cheeks. She smiled with her eyes the July sun brightening them and that
somehow brought back the colour that was missing, as she rushed off. The words ‘
thank you’ were siting on my lips but they never had the chance to stand for her. I
found myself being pushed passed by people but it was somehow not too bad; the
woman who gave back my notebook, gave back an inch of my humanity. After the
murder, dreams, butterfly, the wreckage in my room that was the first time I had felt
human again.

I put the notebook I clung so firmly onto back into my bag making sure it was closed
fully this time and as I looked around I realised that I was in Melbourne peak. I stepped
away from the bus stop that I had circled back to somehow, people were starting to
clear away so I could now see where I was. I wouldn’t have picked up on the obvious
had Rex not left behind his briefcase but I also wouldn’t have lost track if it weren’t for
him. From one of the many pockets of my baggy jeans I pulled out a piece of paper full
of scribbled directions. I would have used my phone but it took me linking a bunch of
different journeys together to find where it was I was going and there was always a
nostalgic feeling to looking to a piece of paper for directions. Like the tourist I was in
Melbourne peak I made my way to Melbournes pharmacy.

Navigating around Melbourne peak was like walking on another planet, everything was
so different, so familiar somehow I guess it was just really Melbourne peaky if that
makes sense. I felt like I was looking at this museum of all the things I had ever felt. So
many shops full of t-shirts I could only find online; the quotes printed on them just
made me nod in agreement.Thing like, “ We were born to die” or “ Melting away like
an ice cream on a hot summers day”, or even a personal favourite of mine , “ They
said thing would get better but now there’s an orange guy running a country.” I
distinctly remember that amongst the shirts with memes printed on them, every so
often butterfly patterns would be on them too. Butterfly designs seemed to be
embedded into the very nature of this place, on signs, shirts, pavements, everywhere
really. It was refreshing to see so much detail in simple things.The pavements
different coloured tiles made me light up, the walls of buildings wore graffiti with pride
and the things that were spray painted on had meaning. The colour scheme of this
place wasn’t the same grey you would see anywhere else, there was in fact no colour
scheme just an ambrosial ambience.

I passed people in cafés drinking out of humungous and oddly shaped mugs, feeling
an urge to join them in contrast to me wanting to run from people.I noticed that on the
widest building there was a butterfly big and beautiful, white with fine golden patterns
dancing on its edges, just like I swore that I saw before. As I staggered in awe of a
dragon breathing poetry on the wall of an especially tall building and gazed up at the
pinky clouds that made a heavenly canopy over me, I somehow found Melbourne
pharmacy, butterflies spelling out the words. The wings flapped in the wind as if they
were real, I was afraid they might all fly away. Maybe they did when I stepped inside.

I hesitated slightly before pushing the heavy glass door and wandering into what I
wouldn’t have guessed was a pharmacy. More people than I thought would even fit in
a small pharmacy that was wedged onto the end of the road, sat in there with small
plastic cups in their hands. They all seemed infatuated with whatever was in them and
it had been a while since I had heard laughter like that, loud but enjoyable to hear
somehow. I re-examined my directions and made sure of the sign I had seen, I was so
sure I had come to the wrong place but in the dim red lighting of the place and casual
sofas placed around the room I picked up on the hidden cabinets behind people and
the familiar bottles pharmacies usually had. I tried hard to skim past people without
being noticed and find the counter but after going around the room in circles I
discovered that, either I was blind or there was no counter. I stood awkwardly between
the conversation of two men and watched them drink from the small plastic cups, I
decided to take a peak at what it is they were drinking. Again I was either blind or they
weren’t drinking a liquid, small pills are what they were engulfing so causally. I was so
shocked that no one was choking and they were just taking them like that. Alarm bells
rung in my head but were soon silenced by a familiar voice calling out my name.

“ Millie. You made it.”

That was when alarm bells should have rung.

Rex sat in front of a cabinet full of female hygiene products making his prideful
position with two girls either side of him comical. I looked at him in dismay at first, his
briefcase still in my hand.

He got up, whispering something to both the girls, the world pausing for him as he
made his way towards me, a small plastic cup in his hand.

“ Thanks for holding onto that for me.”

He took the briefcase from my hand easily even though I held it tighter than I had ever
held anything before. His hand brushed against mine and he let it linger there for a
while to get my attention.
You always had my attention Rex, you never needed to try.

“ Um.. I don’t understand”

was all that I could manage.

“ Oh right I couldn’t walk out with the briefcase, I have eyes on me.”

And I had no one watching of course.

“ Rex, that’s not the only thing I don’t understand.”

“ Time and place Millie.”

“ Isn’t this the time and place, you clearly knew I was coming here.Look now that I’m
here please just answer my questions about everything.”

“ You are right this is the place just not the time, you should relax first.”

I noticed Rex looked a little out of the loop himself.I pulled the sleeve of my thin
cardigan and gripped onto the ends, wanting answers and feeling nervous amongst
stranger that were most certainly high.But with Rex everything seemed like an answer
so I just nodded along to what he said at first.

“ Wait.. no I’m fine the relaxation isn’t necessary, really I actually was coming here
anyways to pick up some Zoloft my pharmacy doesn’t have any and I was told to
come here.”

I mumbled the word ‘Zoloft’ because I was embarrassed, I shouldn’t have been.

“ Wrong. Relaxation is always necessary.”

Another voice called this out, an older man sitting slumped in a chair, stacks of those
little cups around him he looked like he was wearing pyjamas, I was jealous.

I noticed the unfamiliar scent that perfumed the room, like fresh fruit mixed with
something musky. It was like looking at everything through this red filter since there
was only a dim red light and the windows were painted over with black paint.I could
barely even make out faces. A group of girls probably around 14 sat laughing with
their matching purses in one of the corners of the room, all huddled up like it was a
sleepover well plus the drugs. Old men sat with their chairs in a circle like it was a
therapy group and I suppose in a way that is what it was. Old women who looked like
they ought to be home knitting downed the pills faster than anyone else, their
laughter cackled loudly across the room. Teen-age boys who never sit still and have to
scream all the time for no apparent reason, sat somber immersed in what looked like
to me philosophical discussions, sipping the pills like they were wine.It was an
unfathomable sight, so incredibly out of the ordinary.Every sort of person seemed to
be in that pharmacy, it was like a whole new world compacted into Melrose’s
Pharmacy. It was all reorganised to look like a house party and the cabinets were
simply decorations, or antiques that couldn’t be touched. I thought to myself for a
second, ‘Melrose should really branch out, the world could use more Pharmacy’s like
this.’
Rex held out a small plastic cup to me and I stared at the blue, pink, green, yellow and
red assortment of perfectly round pills.

“ Their happy pills, if you take em I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

I wanted them because you were holding them out to me.

I considered taking them because you were smiling.

I reached my hand out in hopes of brushing mine against yours again.

I put my hand around that small plastic cup because there wasn’t anything else I had
to do.

I put the cup to my lips because I was already broken, I didn’t mind finishing off the
job.

I let the pills slide down my throat because as wrong as it all was, nothing had ever
felt more right.

It took a few minutes and I was certain these happy pills would have no effect on me
but the next thing I knew my head was spinning. The dim red tone of the room mixed
in with everything else I saw and everyone looked like they were from Picasso
paintings, the world had never looked so beautiful. Sense became a word of no
meaning and everyone in that room seemed to dance to the tune of insanity and again
it was beautiful. I finally felt like I could breathe and murder was something I wore on
my belt of achievements, that would have otherwise been something to hide. My failed
paintings, my fucked up head it was all the new normal in this place where I didn’t
need to be good, bad and imperfect was the new black. I remember screaming out
that I had killed Grace and that I was probably kicked out of Memphis but little did
those bitches there know I could kill and paint something revolutionary, on a corpse of
all things.

My thoughts had never been so clear, before they were in running around bumping
into each other, civil wars starting every second in my mind; when the pills took effect
all of my thoughts dissolved into one. That one thought was, “fuck the world” and that
was the end of it. I was in a state of euphoria and I don’t think I wouldn’t have traded
those moments of bliss for anything, even though I know what the universe did to me
later. I can’t say too much in confidence not even now, but one thing that I can say in
confidence is that the happy pills will give you the best feeling after you’ve been
dragging yourself through shit. You might think the smile on your face is just artificial,
a bunch of chemicals making you smile but do you know what real life is the same but
it’s shittier and even more artificial.

Happy pills gave me what life will never, ever be able to compete with- a break.

I sat down on this orange couch and felt myself being engulfed into it, I just fell back
and let it swallow me up whilst an arm was placed over my shoulders, firm but most
importantly safe.

It was Rex. You were my safe haven and you and I both know no one has ever blushed
more than I did then.
His effect on me was exemplified with the intoxication and in fact I didn’t need those
pills to feel that way, he had me wasted as soon as I saw him. We laughed at nothing
for what felt like hours and for all I know it could have been. I leant my head on his
shoulder and remember seeing a big butterfly behind one of the glass cabinets full of
acne creams and haemorrhage wipes. I just laughed even more than before and said
to Rex,

“ What is it with this town and butterflies ?”

He came closer than he already was and whispered into my ear,

“ I don’t know myself Millie.”

We just looked at each other like children who had just discovered a slug in the
garden, so excited and naïve, whilst we laughed hysterically he hugged me like I was
the teddy he went to bed with and I didn’t know I was missing out till then. It was like
something completely foreign to me, the feeling that bubbled inside of me.

The butterflies in that town were nothing compared to the ones you gave me Rex.

This stranger who held secrets of mine looked me in the eyes like he had known me
my whole life.

“ Do you want to know a secret ?”

He whispered carefully to me, making sure that no one was watching although they
were all high anyways.I nodded my head vigorously and he smiled as he lent back in
to say,

“ I’ve wanted to do something really badly, ever since I saw you killing Grace.”

I just stared at him blank faced waiting for him to make sense of a vague statement,
which wouldn’t have been so vague had I not taken several happy pills. He just held
onto my hand and gestured for me to get up, I didn’t even hesitate. We bumped into a
small wooden table with empty white cups all over it and into a couple of people
dancing, the floor masked by the cups as well- I could hardly even see my own ankle
boots. We were sailors swimming through the harsh waves of people, pills, cups,
tables, chairs and cabinets. I just looked at his hand around mine, it was warm against
my cold skin, that was forsaken of touch; he made sure that I was never that baron of
that again. It felt like we were wandering through a desert with no destination for so
long and I didn’t care I just felt my head buzz and my body vibrate like it had never
before. It was like being electrocuted over and over again, to a point where I liked it.

We were finally at a door and Rex said something like “ Ta da” when we reached it, I
couldn’t hear a word he was saying since it was so loud and I wasn’t sure if it was the
people or the voices in my head. He hurried me inside, it was dark minus the one
lightbulb that hung in the middle of the room. I looked around like I was examining
dinosaur bones when really there was just a red velvet red couch in there. It didn’t
take long before Rex pulled my arm and I was against his chest.

“ What did you want to do ?”

I finally remembered that I was supposed to ask him that and he just started to laugh
causing me to laugh as well. We did that for a while, like dominos just laughing at
absolutely nothing until Rex said,

“ You liked the thrill, didn’t you ? Of killing her that is.”

“ Mhmm.”

There was no denying it at that point, his hands were around my waist and he was
walking me towards the couch. I felt his breath against the nape of my neck and he
said,

“ I think you’re gonna like the thrill of this even more.”

I looked into his eyes that were somehow brighter in the dark, one of his hands moved
up to my face and he tucked my fringe behind my ears. His lips hovered above mine
for a while, he was teasing me but I wasn’t opposed to that. My hands somehow found
their way around his neck and I pulled him closer to me, his eyes were fixated on mine
and his coy smile was the apple that I could’t resist taking from this forbidden dream.

His lips finally brushed against mine and everything in me was surrendered to him as
soon as that had happened.

It was as if he had studied me before in ways no one else has before, he knew exactly
where to place his hands, exactly when to take a break. He held me like me the way I
had hoped to be held for my whole entire life.

Like butter melting on my lips he gently kissed me again and again, I never wanted
him to stop.

He broke away and I remember the ember of pleasure wavering in me when he did, I
was so immersed in him.

“ Millie.”

Every single time he said my name, I was electrified with the desire for him ; my heart
would race and I could feel my chest burn.

“ If we keep going…”

I looked at him like a lost puppy my eyes full of query and an edge of contempt since
he had stopped, he just laughed a little and then finally continued,

“ I won’t be able to stop myself.”

I looked him in those green eyes of his and the animal that was fighting so hard to get
out escaped. My lips were on his and I pulled him down onto the velvet couch with me,
it took both him and me by surprise and I urged him to take off his shirt.

‘Killer clowns from outer space’, I’ll never forget that shirt of his.

He was more aggressive after that, there was no control but nothing had never been
so satisfying except perhaps murder. The duality to him was breathtaking, one
second he was honey on my lips and the next he became the bee that stung, a
pleasurable sting that is.

I had hope then, hope for something better because I had Rex, nothing was making
sense to me but the way I felt about him couldn’t have been clearer so I indulged in it
carelessly. I hadn’t ever met someone who made everything better that sort of thing
never existed for me. He not only became one of my coping mechanism but my only
coping mechanism, he was the most effective. A butterfly he was my butterfly, he flew
into my life and made it an eternal spring.

That night the midnight sky of Melrose Peak was bejewelled, I remember looking out
at it through an open window; it was truly the perfect scene. Whilst the stars were
smiling a dream was set to be born as they faded into the day, a dream was in fact
born but…it was a stillbirth.

7- MARCY
Now whilst I’m watching out of my skylight window, after taking that girl April’s body
into the big meat fridge and a much needed shower that night has become a poisoned
memory. I watch the sky develop its undertone of an orangey pink and from all the
way up here I can forget everything. The lights slowly flicker on across the city and
soon enough the evening is more ablaze than the grim day. I tap my fingers on the
window ledge listening to a song that was a favourite of mine back then,“ somebody I
used to know”.

The clouds are several paintings shifting ever so slightly once in a while, the cell
towers in the distance look like their in reach if I just stretched out my arm a bit- it’s all
like that up here. Everything looks like it’s part of a big dollhouse that’s all mine and I
can just play with it all for as long as I’d like. The little houses with the roof tiles
slanted as if their going to fall off, the lampposts that are awake now and the people
that stay locked away in their houses since the day is coming off duty- it’s all too
perfect. The lights of the shops in the distance wear new costumes in the evening , so
bright and vibrant not washed out, finally they can shine like they deserve to.I like to
pretend a lot up here, I like to pretend to be a different person .I can pretend he was
just a dream that was too real, for a little while at least.

I’ve stopped remembering for just a while because when I continue I know that I’ll be
drinking a bottle of whiskey in the big velvet chair that’s in the centre of my living
room, lost in those thoughts for hours on end. Before I can allow that I’ve learnt how to
set a little more structure into my life and so I have things to do. But here’s a little
secret about the shitty life, it’s an addiction, you never want to let it go so it’s only a
matter of days before I fall apart again.The difference between then and now is that
now I know how to enjoy falling apart properly.I’m put together for now, all the
chemicals in my brain nicely balanced, every hair on my head neat.

Doing the laundry is something I’ve tried to keep on top of recently it takes me around
2 hours, since I sit there and watch at least one load being tossed around like guts in a
giant salad bowl, it’s a coping mechanism that I found. I should’ve tried laundry
before. Next would be the dishes but I haven’t eaten yet so it’s time to eat dinner
instead.

I make my way up my winding staircase lethargically, each one creaking and about to
collapse, in fact the whole house is. It’s not mine technically but it’s not anyone else’s
either. I was running away from my past, foolish I know that now, so I found this big
old thing. Nothing else near it for miles in every direction, perfect I thought then. I only
planned to hide out in there for a day at most but that day turned into a week, then a
month, then a year until I decided no one else lived here and claimed it for myself. It’s
got this entrance with steps leading to the big brown door and plenty of rooms, I sleep
in a different one each night just because I can. The leaky pipes are hard to get used
to but sometimes their oddly comforting, a sound that never changes through the day
or night. We’ll come back to my house and how I got here later on though.

For dinner tonight I’m dining out, alone that is. Alone is how I flourish, so alone is how I
stay.

I make sure everything is in order before leaving my beautiful home, newspapers

decorating the floor, dusty chandelier, cracked mirror only inches away from me;
everything is good. My keys are always in my pocket or around me so I don’t have the
trouble of fumbling around for anything, before leaving I take a good look in my
mirror. In fractioned bits I see me in a silky button up shirt, I had to change out of my
flamingo one. Damn April and her blood. This shirt’s blue, a nice navy and there’s dark
red roses printed on it that match my shorts; this outfit came as a set, it was easy and
organised that’s how I like my clothes. My hair splayed out dark and short up to my
collarbone, lips bright red with the lipstick I put on a few minutes ago. My face tanned
from the scorching sun, I look good better than good even, perfect. I wink in the mirror
before leaving chewing my gum, my jaw going up and down, I like that feeling.

The airs warm outside so my top buttons undone, I don’t want to be reminded that I’m
alive right now. I want to drift away in this July breeze.

I’m driving out of my nice little driveway, it’s like leaving my own world as I start
seeing road signs and indications of other life like shops, after around 20 minutes of
being on the road. My cars a nice gift I got from this woman for hardly any money,
Marcy’s her name she own a car dealership that’s actually only around a few minutes
away from where I am now, outside Phil’s groceries. I think I might pay her a visit
before going out to dinner at Joe’s diner, we might have some catching up to do. See
when I first moved out here I didn’t know anyone, I mean no one lived near me
anyways but still it was a new place, it’s called Mayfair town. I was trying to find a B&Q
to get a few cables and stuff for the house, well actually a lot more than that the place
was a wreck. I was just wandering round like a lost child, out of breath as well since I
walked the whole way and Mary and I we have this inside joke that we’re ‘soul mates’,
there was an astrologist buying a car from her when I wondered in who looked at us
and told us that. Marcy could just tell something was wrong with me and that I needed
help, she has that skill she just knows how fix things with a few words. I remember
being on the verge of fainting when she gave me a glass of water and sat me in front
of a small fan in her office and asked me,

“ Can you drive, girl ?”

She had a funny accent maybe she was from Yorkshire I wasn’t sure, I just liked the
word Yorkshire.

I nodded my head, Rex taught me how.

“ Do you got any money on you ?”

I nodded, there was a wad of cash I’d stolen jammed in my pocket for going to B&Q.

“ Give me what you’ve go and I’ll give you that car over there.”

She was pointing at a blue on, it looked nice, old but nice, turned out to be a Mercedes
and I wasn’t complaining and that was the end of that, plus the beginning of us
exchanging information about odd people we saw and she’s got my back on if she
see’s any police cars heading where I live so I’m prepared.

I pull into Marcy’s motors and see her sitting in front of a fan dying from the humidity
of this awful July month.

“ Marcy!”

I shout as I walk towards her office which is just a little rectangular box that has a
door, it doesn’t seem to fit into this place but often times things are like this.Her eyes
light up and she moves reluctantly away from her fan, opening that door to her little
wonderland.

“ Alright Millie.”

She screams as is her habit even though I’m almost standing right in front of her, that
is Marcy for you- loud, obnoxious at times and she stopped feeling a long time ago.
She told me once before how one day, she just woke up not wanting to feel. You had
to put so much effort into feeling, so much energy as well and it just wasn’t worth it
because in the end feeling almost took her to her grave. Marcy used to have a
husband as shocking as it is, the lone wolf always has to have a pack to start off with.

After a few years into their marriage her husband Bill abused her in every way shape
or form, he threw things at each other anything he found and she defended her self
with anything she could grab. Marcy loved him though so she always tried to apologise
sometimes it worked and other times it got her into deeper shit. The thing is the
universe is all a bit shit to begin with anyways, Bill being the man was stronger than
Marcy, a disappointing law of the universe but an existing one. One night Marcy was
apologising for burning straight through a shirt of his with the iron and Bill had his fat
hand around her neck and her body up against the kitchen wall.He already went on a
bit of a rampage throwing things everywhere. Marcy says he was screaming loud and
clear but she didn’t hear words, eventually she managed to escape his grip but he
pounced at her as she ran and had her pinned on the floor.Bill was a lion, a fat, bald,
grumpy lion. Marcy says she knew in that moment with her husband looking at her
with eyes of savagery, like he could kill, that she was most likely going to die so she
did the other thing she always did and that was grabbing the thing closest to her and
defending herself with it.All the love she had for him vanished in seconds seeing that
look in his eyes, years and years of abuse and love but no more. To her favour what
she grabbed was a little criminal as I’d say, it was a knife and she was done with Bill so
she managed to push him off and threaten him. She says when she held that knife she
was born again into the Marcy I know. She tied him up to a chair, Bill was a bitch by
the end of it all, all it took was a knife but it was probably the look in Marcy’s eyes, the
same look she stole out of his. She used all her energy to scream at him the way he
always did at her and then to really make old Bill shit his pants she cut his thumb off.
She says it wouldn’t have been good enough just threatening him, he would’ve just
laughed at her and she was tired of being laughed at. Once she knew she had some
power, with Bill in tears she managed to take his business of him and leave him skint,
she always wanted to be a working woman and she became on. Bill moved back to his
mothers house with 1 thumb and no tongue. Marcy cut that out as well so he wouldn’t
say anything.

“ I wished I’d killed him I’ve always wandered to this day what it would’ve been like to
just stab him over and over again.”

Marcy had told me once and I just laughed so much I was crying and Marcy didn’t
understand and she never will.

We’re sitting on the hood of a car enjoying the satisfaction of breaking the rules since
there’s a sign that say’s ‘ NO SITTING ON ME CARS’, handwritten by Marcy of course.
This humid day’s been a little dark and it’s bound to rain with the dark clouds towering
over us so we both wait in silence for the rain. People like us, blurry faces we wait for
things like that, the hot showers in summer months, the sunny days in winter days.
These juxtapositions make us feel things others wouldn’t understand, we feel at home
on days like this.

Marcy and I we’re both lost in thought as the thunder claps for us, soothing the uneasy
feelings we have. It’s dangerous though, thinking for too long because you can get
completely and utterly lost and it’s more than true, that the worst place to be lost is in
your head.

“ See anyone weird around lately, Mar.”

I say with a cheerful tone as the rain starts to gush down and I can see in the corner
of my eye that Marcy’s also smiling.

“ Well you know Jeff he’s always trying to snoop around everywhere, tried to see if my
motor oil was really motor oil. What else would it be, ya know? He’s a crackhead that’s
for sure. Apart from that there’s no one around. What about you Mills see anything ?”

“ Nah. There’s nothing to see, just things to remember.”

“ What you remembering at your young age ? I’ll tell you love you ain’t seen nothing
yet.”

I laugh again and Marcy laughs for a different reason, still we laugh together but all of
a sudden I get a waft of bubblegum ice cream. I’m watching the rain make ripples in
the puddles, small ones, big ones and I smell bubblegum ice cream.

My eyes are searching round frantically and I’m convinced that it’s you Rex. Why am I
still looking around for you frantically ?

It’s not, it’s a little boy in the shop holding his dads hand licking the ice cream. I clench
my fists and bite my lip hard, I don’t want to remember just yet; all I wanted was some
time to myself but the scent is too nostalgic to control the thoughts. I wanted to go
home later and think about this in my velvet chair, be fully immersed but I forget I’ve
been fully immersed for so long now.
8- BUBBLEGUM ICE CREAM

A few weeks after that night in Melrose Peak’s Pharmacy, the night where all these
people were taking pills, the night where I also took some pills, the night me and Rex
had sex. We were together a lot more after that, just talking a lot about when we were
younger and our parents.He’d pop in to talk to me and whenever I asked why he said
he didn’t need a reason. There was one night which I could never forget. I was at
home curled up in bed because I there was nothing else to do, it was around 5PM I
didn’t even realise time had passed that quickly. Then I get a call from Rex and it
sounds urgent, really urgent. He’s panting over the phone and just says,
“ Millie. I need you to come over, please.”

I just jolted up out of my bed and said.

“ Come over where ? I don’t know where you live Rex.”

“ Right yeah okay I’m sending you an address just get over here.”

A few bus stops later I’m at his apartment, I looked almost presentable for once. I
speed changed into a black skirt and an oversized jumper that was soft and pink, it
wasn’t mine, then of course my fishnet tights with my black lace up boots. My hair
couldn’t be saved so I just left it out as it was I did brush it for once though.

I get to his apartment and he’s just sitting on one of his kitchen stools playing some
game on his phone. He had just had a shower, his hair was damp and he sat there in
just black shorts. His door was open so I just sort of stood in the doorway and gaped at
him, he was perfect. Since by the time I got there the sun was setting it somehow
splayed its light all over Rex at just the right places.

Even the universe made you look like some sort of angel. Even the universe was
fooled by you.

I came in and sat down on another stool, still staring at what I thought was mine. Me
and Rex we had a weird connection but it was ours so nothing else mattered.

He had a canvas set for me, paint, brushes and of course him; it was my very own
heaven. Maybe we didn’t spend the most time together, maybe it had only been a few
weeks of me knowing him and as much as I hate the word it’s the only one I know to
use, I was in love with him.

I thought then I only needed one second of you Rex to cure my miserable life, I had
millions of seconds of you and I’m still fucked so I was wrong.

What attacked my heart that night was him staring at me the whole time I painted. It
makes me feel stupid now the way I would bit my lip to stop myself from smiling. Rex
I don’t know what it is about you, I really don’t but your make every single dying part
of me light up and I wish you never resurrected any of me.

I don’t think I was ever so careful with the strokes of my brush before painting him and
I can’t deny how perfect it turned out. Of course it did it was him. When he came and
looked at it he didn’t say anything just kissed me. Every time he did that I would
become melted wax in his hands. We were sitting down drinking some beer, I was only
sipping it because I didn’t like it and I was curled up on his orange couch. As I looked
around I noticed he had a lot of abstract paintings, making his apartment look
cramped and a lot of them were monkeys it was both disturbing and intriguing. The
monkeys would have different coloured neon glasses and then there were just some
faceless people on some of the painting he had. Not one was hung up on the walls
they were all just leaned up against the walls, stacks and stacks of them. He told me
that none of them are good enough to hang up and he’s waiting for the right one.

We were watching ‘ It’s always sunny in Philadelphia’, he just looked at me whilst

playing with my hair and said to me.

“ You remind me of a flamingo.”

I just squinted my eyes at him and responded saying,

“ What because of the pink jumper ?”

“ No Millie because you just stand out. Before you everything was mostly grey for me.”

He calls me his flamingo now all the time and he hung up my painting of him, you see
it as soon as you enter.

He told me about how he actually owned the Melrose Peak Pharmacy and the old
owner died a short while ago.He’d turned the pharmacy into a place where you could
relax and really get cured as he would put it.

He also told me that his parents were dead and I said that he was lucky and then he
agreed. We just got each other, he would drop by for what an hour each day and that
would become my whole day that one hour. I wouldn’t think about anything else. I
would just walk around the streets looking for jobs since Memphis was out of the
window and I wasn’t going to ever study again since I had the choice not to. My
parents they just looked down on me even more since the whole mirror incident and I
didn’t notice much because I’d given all my thoughts to him. They were always
whispering about something when I came in acting more unusual than well usual.

It was a rainy day like this one, humid but pouring down in July. I was sick of looking
for jobs, if I’m being honest most of the time I wasn’t even looking, just roaming
around because I had the choice to. That was when I heard a voice shout something
after me,

“ Hey flamingo.”

I whipped my head around to see Rex standing in the rain, his hands tucked into his
pockets and he smiled his boyish smile that I could never get enough of.

We sat beneath a tree in the park where I was walking around since there was nothing
else to do and he appeared out of thin air, before I knew it a smile was on my face and
pink flushed cheeks were almost familiar now. I’d never felt this way before and I
wanted to feel that way forever.

We sat shielded from the rain with bubblegum ice cream we got from a shady ice
cream van, we laughed at the Italian Ice cream man, who didn’t seem to know he was
selling ice cream as he kept asking us why were ambushing him in his home. His hat
was on the wrong way too, at least I wasn’t the only one wasting my life I’d thought.
You see you’re always haunted by this idea that you’re wasting your life but it’s your
life to waste. We are all wasting away as it is, I suppose so working or not I was still
decaying slowly, just like everyone else.

Rex was wearing a Harry Potter shirt that day, he had no shame at all with the weird
looks he got from other guys his age wearing suits that passed.

“ Millie..”

He said, slowly. I turned my head like an obedient dog, eyes wide and awaiting his
next words.

“ Yes.”

“ Nothing I just like saying your name.”

He said mid lick, his tongue was all blue and so was mine.

“ You don’t think we’re dating right ?”

“ Rex. I’m not stupid. Anyways I don’t do dating.”

He seemed amused at this.

“ Hm. Though I was the only one. I only say this because I think we’re more.”

I just enjoyed my bubblegum ice cream and kept the nerves under control as he
stared at me waiting for my answer.

“ Rex you never told me about Grace properly.”

I changed the topic quickly and actually had, had this on my mind for a while now- I
had to know more about her but never got round to asking him. He was always talking
and I was always listing because he was music to my ears.

“ Grace. Good old Gracie.”

He sighed lost in his own thoughts.

“ Yeah she was a client of mine, she was holding onto quite a few of my ‘ happy
pills’, she even offered actually. There was a routine check at Melrose’s so I had to get
the stuff out of there and she had no opposition. Only thing is she died before she
could tell me where she hid them.”

He shot an icy glare at me. I didn’t look him in the eyes, I just licked my ice cream a
little guiltily and laughed nervously but then I turned to face him. See Grace was
always on my mind, I did kill her after all and after living with all the guilt I had come
to terms with everything and I wasn’t wrong to do what I did. I had to tell myself that,
it was a coping mechanism.

“ She wanted to die. I gave her what she wanted.”

“ Didn’t have to bang her head against the wall though did you ?”

“ No but I did it anyways to make her death grand. She wanted that as well.”
“ Yeah I’ll give you that the way you painted around her was quite something.”

“ I will say I’m surprised that they passed the whole thing off as suicide.”

“ That’s because of me.”

I turned to him, surprise wearing my face like an evening gown and he laughed at the
ice cream I had on my nose, then elaborated,

“ I got a guy to say he painted over her and couldn’t help it all that inspired artist shit
and they believe it’s a suicide ‘cuz of the note and she has tried to kill herself before.
Police are shit so they didn’t care much. Rick the guy who volunteered to admit to it, is
in prison weird sentence. Painting over a corpse but he’s a weird guy. He’s homeless
so anywhere’s better than the park bench.”

I didn’t have words I just nodded my head.

“ No thank you Millie?”

I shook my head.

“ I didn’t ask. The credit of my work’s gone to someone else.”

I pouted as I said this and looked down, he lifted my chin up and said with that boyish
smile on his face.

“ Sorry Millie. If you kill someone next time I’ll make sure you get all the credit.”

We both laughed like it was a joke, then it was.

The rain started to fall harder and he wiped the ice cream on my nose off, his hand
still cupping my chin and then he kissed me. The taste of bubblegum was exemplified
and he never warned me before doing things like that. We never even talked about
that night, he just did whatever he wanted whenever he wanted and I let him.

“ Oh Rex who’s the Fedora man ? And who did you kill ?”

“ Woah, that’s a lot of questions for one day. I’ll tell you another time.”

“ You always say that.”

I muttered under my breath, he heard I think but smiled a patronising smile and I
could tell that words were playing on those lips of his but he didn’t seem to know how
to phrase it.

I liked doing that, pretending I could read your mind like you did to me. I could never
though those thoughts Rex are so dark that I just end up getting lost in them.

“ What’s your plans for the day ?”

I scoffed and looked him dead in the eyes for the first time that day.

“ Well Rex I’m a busy girl, I’ve got to go and sort out some files at work.”

The sarcasm drenched each and every word of mine but then I responded properly.
“ Probably just go home and sleep, don’t want to fo home though.”

I looked down at my watch and saw it was nearing 6 so I got up to start heading home,
mum and dad didn’t want me there so it tempted me to go anyways.

“ Let’s go to a carnival.”

9- CARNIVAL
The thing with Rex was he would use words just like everyone else, but the meanings
he put behind those words were lost in his own language of definition. By carnival I
thought of candy floss, popcorn, ferris wheels and all that shit. Now that I think back to
it maybe it would have been better to have gone to an actual carnival but that’s just
me lying to myself. In a world where grass has to be green and the sky has to be blue
Rex was a field of purple grass and red skies.

Boredom is the most dangerous thing for humanity. Rex was the most dangerous
thing for me.

It didn’t take long for me to agree to go along with him, it wasn’t like I had a life to
keep up with and he was irresistible. He already had an Uber ready and at the time I
was convinced that this was supposed to be some sort of date that he had planned.
Even if you had told me differently at the time I wouldn’t have given a shit, it all made
me feel good and that’s all that ever matters to anyone.

Rex could be a little boy or an old man dependant on his mood and as we got into the
black car he jumped in like a little boy, his fight club shirt became apparent to me then
for some reason.

There was Tyler Durden and the character that’s never given a name. The blurry face.
Rex and I.

Rex was like a kid who had just been told he was finally allowed to go to the toy store
after being told several times he couldn’t, he hadn’t ever looked so excited. His hands
shaking and a smile stuck to his face going up to each ear. He reminded me what it
was like to be in anticipation of something after a long time, he reminded me what it
was like to feel like there’s something good out there; it’s ironic really.

I watched him for a lot of the rather bumpy ride but figured he may notice and get a
little creeped out, so I let my eyes drift to out of the window, it was raining and I was
relieved. Every time it rains it always seems to stop and start and for some reason
every time it stops I get a little anxious, as if the sun will come out and shine some
light on reality. It gave me butterflies just looking at the rain adding new dots to the
car window and shining up the streets with a glossy coat. The wind had also picked up
sending leaves straight off branches and people’s umbrella’s rolling into the middle of
the roads. Their heads getting pelted with rain, they all act so surprised as if they
didn’t know it was raining, they chased after their umbrella’s as if their lives depended
on it, as if water would kill them. When grease is pumped into their food like motor oil
no one seems to run then, when their stuffing cigarettes in their mouths their laughing
and that stuff really does kill. People are funny.
The Uber driver came to a sudden halt as we met a chain of traffic that looked like it
would take hours to untangle and my view changed to an uneven pavement that
dipped nicely to allow a puddle to be made. The ripples in it were the most satisfying
thing, forget slime the big circular motions that would spread into nothing until
another one was made, that was better than ASMR. As I lost myself in the rain of all
things, I felt a hand slip into mine and grip tight. It was Rex of course, had it been
anyone else it would’ve been concerning and perhaps this story would’ve taken
another turn. His hand was soft and I knew mine was rough but he still held it like it
made him feel good, I still hope it did. He had kissed me before, he had done more
than that before but him holding my hand like that was something else all together.
You always think when you make eye contact in these sorts of situations it’s awkward,
instead we stared into each others eyes like we loved each other. I did.

“ When’s this gonna clear up ?”

Rex leaned forward to talk to the driver and the woman just replied with the life
sucked out of her, eyes almost closing,

“ It’ll be an hour.”

He sighed and looked at me still holding my hand for dear life,

“ Millie we really have to get there soon. We can’t miss anything and I have to show
you.”

I just bit my lip and blushed involuntarily, I was always such a pansy in these
situations.

Rex just looked outside for a bit and was searching something up on his phone,
constantly keeping an eye on the time, until he finally spoke.

“ Okay let’s just get out Millie, we can get there quicker on foot.”

I just sort of let him take me out of the car like a deflated ballon. I didn’t know what
was going on, I didn’t care about where we were going. My only concern was that Rex
never let go of my hand.

Like a scene in one of those movies we were out amongst a bunch of cars beeping at
each other, in standstill traffic looking around frantically until Rex was dragging me
towards the pavement. It only took a matter of seconds for us to be soaked, this was
just like a little while back when we were running from the Fedora man, only now I was
running from the mundane life.

After a series of stopping and asking people where we could find a specific road and
running down roads, like we’d lost something precious. I did, I had lost my sanity but
that was a while back as I would later find out and I’d never look for something stupid
like that.

It’s slipped out of my head how we managed to get inside but after a rush of water
splashing on our shins we were at the ‘Carnival’ Rex wanted to take me to.

The first thing I noticed and what is most vivid in my memory of that day was the
lights. Lights like I’ve never seen before, like you’ve probably never seen before.
Seeing those lights blaring down at me, people screaming with neon paint all over
them made me realise how small I was. There will be a finalising moment in any blurry
face’s life, the most important and liberating moment that there is and that’s when
they acknowledge that they will be a nobody forever. There is no changing, there is no
rebuilding, resurrections don’t exist and in this moment you will accept what you
couldn’t before. Being pathetic means expectations vanish, you breathe on the high of
something like heroin not oxygen and do you know what nobody cares. Caring so
much only got us into a deeper hole, wars, poverty, pollution the whole lot. If we didn’t
care so much about reformation in the first place, we wouldn’t have to worry so much
about global warming. If the IPhone wasn’t always so heavily pregnant with never-
ending children, it’s latest the iPhone Xr.If all that extra packaging wasn’t made, we
wouldn’t be pumping oceans with our cereal boxes and late night sips of coke cans.
But nobody looks at the “ifs”, the “ifs” are crippled in the shadows, where the “ buts”
hide as well.

All people care about is destroying and re-creating. Look at anything and this will
apply but me I was done with the caring. There’s billions of people caring so they can
take my load of for me, that’s what I thought then. I realised all of that looking at
those lights, strobing across what looked like a stadium but people weren’t acting like
they were in a stadium. Seats were torn apart and they didn’t care either. Not caring is
the key to living. These people didn’t care and they certainly seemed to be living their
best lives.

What I forgot was human nature, you always end up caring about at least one thing
you can’t help it. I cared about you Rex, stupid Rex.

“ This is our ‘Carnival’.”

He said pointing to the big handmade red sign that hung loosely up above us, almost
falling off. It was quite perfect, I had thought then.

“ Welcome to the butterfly gang.”

Rex said smiling with lights on his face, like he was the star of the show and he was, of
course he was he’s Rex. As soon as the word butterfly left his lips, something clicked
in my head. There was something about butterflies, there was always something
about butterflies ever since I met Rex. The memory of the butterfly in my kitchen was
a sharp shard of glass in my head and I just couldn’t shake the feeling that it was just
a coincidence. I was taking in what looked like an abandoned stadium and flaming
torches as I also noticed, I’d never seen so much light in my whole entire life. I forgot
that Rex was standing right next to me so when I looked back at him I was taken back,
he had his shirt off and yes it’s true it wasn’t the first time I was around when his shirt
was off, but it had been dark that night. The tattoo that always peaked out of his
shirts, that reached his neck finally became clear to me. I had made guesses at what it
was but as obvious as it may seem now, I would’ve never guessed.

A big black butterfly was plastered across his chest, big and intricate details. Under
the lights, with his tattoo on display he was beautiful, every brown lock on his head
looked perfect. He had a smouldering look on his face, he looked like he was getting
ready to do something and within a matter of seconds he was running faster than the
eye could see. I just gaped at him, my heart banging to get out of my chest to take a
look as well. Rex reached the middle of the field in the stadium, where there were
around 5 people, faces covered in green, yellow and red neon paint, they were all
crowded around something. As soon as Rex arrived they all dispersed revealing a
flaming Red motorbike, shiny with it’s matt black wheels ; he stood by it and them
together was a perfect picture, the bike looked like it was made for him, anything
looked like it had been made for him. I snapped a picture quickly on my phone, I was
painting him later without a shadow of a doubt.

The engine roared louder than the crowds screaming, so needless to say it was
deafening and then Rex did something I wouldn’t forget; if you killed me 5 times and
brought me back to life again and again that’s the only thing I’d probably remember.

He silenced everyone by simply raising a hand and then said with no need to shout in
the silence,

“ Butterflies.”

His voice took on a new tone I hand’t ever experienced before. It was demanding,
cold, glorious.

“ We’re free today because we chose to close our eyes.Shun the world because it
shunned us.”

The crowd repeated after him in perfect unison,

“ Shun the world because it shunned us !”

Then he drove the bike at it’s highest speed I’m sure, into all the seats ripping them
up even more. He completely abolished rows and rows of those browning white chairs,
he had no care for the paradigms. He just rode wherever he pleased, whenever he
wanted to. The whole thing was manic and that was fitting for Rex of course. People
cheered, all eyes were on him and I started to notice some sort of tattoo that
resembled a butterfly one everyone else, apart from me that is. They all seem united
by that one insect, it’s funny because people can’t be united by so many things yet
one tattoo and their all family.

These people, who are just like me or you with real life jobs were letting loose,
forgetting all their problems. It’s hard to forget but seeing them made it look so easy,
it’s almost unfathomable to think that it’s even possible.

Either way it was all beautiful and nothing had ever looked so perfect, within chaos
was bred genuine smiles and I hand’t seen those for a while. I had this urge to join in I
wanted to not care either and this urged bubbled up inside of me.

As soon as Rex stopped and got off, everyone gathered around him, all of them in awe
of him just like I was.Some of the faces here resembled those at the pharmacy,
through the cracks of the neon paint I recognised a few of them. Before I knew it every
single person in the stadium was at the side of Rex, he was engulfed in the crowd and
I was engulfed in the dark shadowy part where we had entered, no lights shining my
way. That urge to join in and not care, it burst because even though I wanted to be
part of this I couldn’t forget anything. I was held back by the thick, heavy chains that
were forever at my ankles. I stood there for about half an hour, I stood there and
watched.

I want to write about how I had this sudden kick of adrenaline and went on the bike
after him, became part of this butterfly gang as well but that would be a lie. What the
truth would be is that I headed home. It was all beautiful, really it was but I wasn’t
made to be part of crowds. Voices whispered the same things they had my whole life
into my ears, feelings from yesterday’s tragedy’s hit me hard. I wasn’t going to
become a social butterfly in a matter of days. I loved Rex but I didn’t fit in.

It was getting tiering seeing excitement and thrill but in all honesty not having much
of my own. I kicked at the puddles of water as I made my way home, it had stopped
raining which made everything a lot worse because it was just damp and wet. The sky
wasn’t even crying to give a nice defining moment to my misery. It took me 15
minutes to notice that I had been walking the wrong way and when I noticed, I just
kept going on in that direction. Rex had become a coping mechanism for me so I clung
to the thought of him and thought I’d just go home and forget about all of this as soon
as Rex paid me another one of his visits.

A ghostly sort of wind whipped me and that’s when the knocking on the weak walls of
my mind started. Something wanted to come in again, to relieve me.

The knocking was faint at first. A glimpse of Grace’s perfect face, plagued my mind.

The knocking got a little louder. The poison of Grace spread and I remembered how
my hands went around her neck.

The knocking grew louder steadily . My heart was starting to race the way it had, when
the pulse of her neck in fact the pulse of her life was at the tip of my fingers.

The knocking started to become unsteady and frantic. The way my thoughts had been
as I watched the life leave Grace’s blue eyes.

The knocking morphed into an imminent banging. The way I had morphed into the
glorious monster that smashed her head against the wall postmortem.

The knocking stopped and something entered, the footsteps now slow and careful. The
way my hands were when painting around Grace.

A sick smile fought it’s way onto my face and my excitement, the real thrill coursed
through my veins.

Nothing was ever comparable to killing, you came by a close second though Rex. At
the time I thought you were better but in all fairness, at the time I also thought Pepsi
and Coke tasted the same.

It took everything in me to keep myself in check, clenching my fists to a point of my

knuckles going white as I started to charge down the street. My eyes became the eyes
of a predator searching for people to satisfy me. They were all over the place,
temptation walking on legs all around me. It was like a flick of a switch, changing the
emotions I had no control over. First in awe of the ‘Carnival’, then saddened at my
inability to be like those neon faces and most importantly the anticipation of my very
own thrill.

For me it started to become days and days of boredom but then one legendary day full
of every moment of excitement my life lacked.

I was hunting in the streets however what I had no idea about was that I was also
being hunted. A firm hand encased in a black glove clasped itself around my mouth
and pulled me away from the thrill that I had waited too long for.
10- THE FEDORA MAN
It was in a similar alleyway, very possibly the same one I had killed Grace in, that I
stood thrust against a wall ,my back almost engraved into it. The gloved hand had
stayed in the exact same place since it had taken place on my mouth, in the dark it
took me a little while to make out the shape of a purple Fedora on the head of the
man that towered over me.His hand moved carefully to my neck, a familiar situation
but I didn’t like being on the side that I was on. His grip tightened and he was getting
all the glory of having the pulse of my life at his fingertips.His face was a square bulk,
a thin moustache above his bulging lips. His eyes so black I could’ve sworn they
weren’t even eyes. Fear kept trying to enter me as a natural reaction but my body
seemed to reject it. My heart was beating fast sure, but that was from the thoughts of
before. I hadn’t expected to be the one that was pushed against the wall. Maybe fear
would have kept me sane but I couldn’t muster up any. Frustration was all I had felt, I
was on my way to do the only thing that gave me satisfaction and this Fedora man
snatched it all away. The emotional journey of the night was giving me whiplash.
When there’s only one thing you want in a moment, you’re driven to this maniac like
state, your thoughts aren’t accessible not even to me now.

“ You know Rex, don’t you?”

I could barely move and choked on the remaining breath I had left in me. He threw my
head against the wall and screamed this time,

“ I ASKED DO YOU KNOW REX ?”

I was struggling for breath and he wanted me to answer him, it was idiocy in it’s finest
form; encased in the muscular figure of a man who had no concern for anyone else.
How did he expect me to answer with his hand around my throat ?

“ You shitty little girl answer me.”

He leaned in close and whispered that, I tapped on the massive hand that was around
my neck, for him to let me go and tried to nod but he wasn’t getting the memo. Finally
some words came out of my mouth.

“ I..Kn..ow..hi..m”

He let go and all oxygen seemed to rush at me all at once and I inhaled it like I was
asthmatic, breathing heavily and raggedly. I was so tired of everything i wanted being
snatched away from me.

“ You need to do me a favour, Rex owes me so give him a message for me.”

I had a hand up against the wall and just kept nodding, my lip twitched slightly, riddled
with rage to a point off numbness.

“ Why can’t you just tell him ?”

That was the first blunder I made in this Fedora man’s eyes since he went back to
holding me against the wall, I definitely felt the grazes on my back start to bleed.
“ If I wanted to tell you that I would have. If it was that easy I wouldn’t have bothered
with a irrelevant girl like you. You look like you’ve been run over you fucking ugly shit.
Don’t ask questions and just do what I say.”

His voice was like iron as he said that to me and those words crumbled onto my
head.My lip was quivering and the tears started to brew in my eyes, he was an entitled
ass who was making me more angry than I expected to be. I wasn’t an idiot though,
this ass was stronger than me, very obviously looking like a gorilla in comparison to
the measly me.

“ I haven’t even done anything yet and you’re about to cry.”

He laughed louder and louder, the laughter mocking everything about me even though
he had no idea about who I was. The tears of fury that were brewing subsided, the
idea of him being stomper than me dissolved in the crazed rage that possessed
me.Every nerve in me shaking and electrified. The sick smile returned to my face, this
only made him laugh more. He stroked me face and pushed my fringe behind my ear.

“ Smiles don’t look good on girls like you. Stick to crying.”

He was in hysterics, laughing so much that it was becoming deafening, my eyes were
cold just staring at the pathetic man. My target was acquired and it didn’t even know
it.

He wasn’t ready for it. I wasn’t ready for it.

As he held his stomach, still laughing and crouched over me , I swung a punch at his
square head, sending him to stumble a little and give me the space that was my right.

I took my little criminal out of my pocket. Shock couldn’t even begin to describe the
look on his face. I had it with me because I had been fantasying about stabbing
someone ever since Grace, wandering about the many possibilities I could’ve ended
her with. I wasn’t the sort to hesitate or tease to leave a window of opportunity for my
kill to go to waste.

He struggled with me as I attempted the first plunge into his chest, pushing me
around like a rag doll. I was relentless though, I kept coming at him and he got me
down to the floor.The gravely floor dug into the skin on my hands and they were
covered in dirt, that stuck since it had just rained.Being on the floor never meant
defeat to me. The shiny, sharp point hit him in the foot and I did it twice in the same
place to make sure it hurt. That bought me time to get up.

I plunged the stained top of the knife into his big chest, which didn’t seem so big after
I had complete control over the Fedora man.

He made gurgling noises and his knees became weak, he held onto my shoulder for
dear life as his pupils became smaller as mine widened.

“ Please.. sto..p”

He pleaded as I was going in for the third time, this time going for his stomach.I was
saving the region of the heart for last.

“ Pleading doesn’t look good on men like you. Stick to dying silently, you pathetic
fuck.”
My voice was a shrill sound, the exhilaration couldn’t be masked. Now I was the one
laughing, uncontrollably, stabbing him again and again watching geysers of blood
spurt out of him. Now he was my rag doll. I pushed him down to the floor the same
way he had and made sure the gravel covered his hands the same way that pierced
mine. He had about an ounce of life left in him. I sat onto of him pushing the left side
of his face into a puddle so hard that his cheekbone collapsed. The sound of the
crushing bones was music to my ears.

This Fedora man didn’t die easily, the light from his eyes didn’t leave as quick as
Grace’s. He was more of a fighter, after all she was suicidal. It was funny watching him
squirming beneath me, waddling his arms. What I enjoyed most about this kill was the
hope this man had, trying till the very end. I was released from the present moment
breathing in the scent of murder, what I had been craving for so long.

I took my kill home that time, because I knew someone had either already seen me or
was going to soon. Guilt didn’t set in till a couple of days after, still immersed in the
sensation of the whole thing I laughed on my way home.

When you do one crazy thing, more crazy things are bound to follow. I had his arm
over my shoulder and just hoped no one would notice, a big gamble. I thought I would
get caught for sure, almost hoped I would in fact because I had nothing to loose. I
almost wanted some recognition for my work and I obviously wasn’t thinking very
straight. The ignorant world however was silent in the dead of night and people were
too absorbed in their own world if we did walk past. The Fedora man was in a black
suit as it was so the blood wasn’t immediately striking, as for the blood left in the
alleyway it mixed up with the rain and how glorious the rain always was; my
accomplice in murder.

My parents were both still working or probably drinking in some bar, either way they
weren’t there so I headed down to my basement where I laid my big corpse with a
Fedora on it down on the floor.

With my brushes and paints in hand I couldn’t resist painting over him, in neon colours
inspired by the ‘Carnival’.

Flames, bright and orange with tinges of red surrounded the dead man who fought for
his life but lost to death. Black guns, five of them surrounded his head and that was
what was on my basement floor.

Then I got a call from fate.

I was in a state of euphoria, finally giving into a temptation that I should’ve recognised
as wrong.

But how can you know what’s wrong if it’s the same thing that brings vibrancy to your
life ? The same thing always applied to you as well Rex.

Reality had never been a friend to me so when I looked back at what I had just done, I
sat down on the cold basement floor. I told myself I was insane, stupid and bipolar. I
screamed at myself, saying that I was going to get caught and that there was no way I
could hide a dead body I had just painted over. These were all empty words though,
they didn’t mean anything to me and I can’t explain to you how much I wanted them
to mean something I wanted to be scared, I was sitting there waiting for the fear to
haunt me. What I was really afraid of was the fact that, killing a man wasn’t ringing
alarm bells to me. I hated every second of sitting there looking helpless. I was on the
verge of going to prison for the murder of one-possibly two people and I wasn’t scared.
This was when the divisions of myself started to become apparent, there was some of
me hanging onto the norms that I was taught to stick to and then there was the rest of
me reaching for something else all together.

I wanted the world to walk at my pace but the world is constantly moving so if you
pause for even a second you get left behind. I wish I could’ve taken a few nights to
recover from what I had done but even if it was my will to be left behinds another
force was pushing me forward.

It had been around half an hour of me moping, it’s only when I looked the Fedora man
dead in his cold brown eyes that I felt a stinging at my wrist. It was a familiar stinging
but I couldn’t immediately identify it so instead i just got up and went towards the
single lightbulb in the dark basement to see if there was anything there, a spider bite,
a scrape, anything logical really.

Logic of course had been forlorn for a long time to me so it was no surprise that what I
saw was something that belonged safe behind the screens of TV. It was an imprint of a
butterfly, just like the one from a few weeks ago that came into my kitchen and my
arm was starting to burn. The pain started to become unbearable as I leaned on an old
wooden table hoping the excruciation would just stop.

All I remember thinking was that I was right all along, I knew there was a butterfly in
my kitchen and I knew there was something about these butterflies everywhere. I just
wish I had figured it out sooner somehow.

My vision became blurred, this all felt too repetitive, the pain however was intensified
to a point of not even feeling. Everything had seemingly been blunted; my thoughts,
my feelings and now my physical state. I screamed like I had a saviour, I called out like
heroes existed, I cried like I had a tissue. Then I blacked out like I would never wake
up again and I can’t tell you how much I wish that were true.

11- MELVIN AND ADRIAN

I opened my eyes. Everything was still blurry though.

I wanted to rub my eyes. I tried and realised that my hands were tied back.

I blinked so I could see properly. The rope was burning against my skin.

I saw where I was. I didn’t recognise the place, it was grey and damp. Smelt like
something was rotting.

I tried to wriggle around in the chair that I was in. The rope started to burn even more.
I noticed above me painted on the celling a big butterfly, pink wings. I felt that burning
on my wrist return, like it was a curse.

I waited for someone to enter the room which I eventually figured to be a basement,
not mine. I felt the rope scratching against my flesh more and more each second.

I don’t know how long I waited for but someone was coming, all of a sudden. I heard
careful footsteps down stairs, that I guessed led to where I was. I felt my chest tighten
and I gulped.

A person entered. I didn’t see a face. Then they stood right under the light where I was
and I saw clearly. My heart dropped. It was my older brother.

Adrien was there the monster, that son of a bitch stood there his dark hair falling
across his face, his hazel eyes blazing beneath the light. His semi-muscular build had
never been so apparent, the black jumper he wore stuck to his skin; he always wore a
tight shirt. I don’t know who he was always trying to impress because he looked
fucking ridiculous. If Adrien was here then Melvin wouldn’t be too far, their twins;
conjoined in my opinion. They always stick to each other, they’ve probably even
sucked each others dicks. I suppose the worst of the worst always like to stay close.

I hadn’t seen them in around 5 years, best years of my miserable life but it seemed
like the whole all good things must come to an end philosophy had come into play
when I saw the pale-faced dick. They lived in America, doing some business in Utah.
They started up this pharmacy here in London but it wasn’t doing so well but then all
of a sudden they pack up to go to Utah, apparently there of all places they could do
well. I didn’t listen to any details all I cared about was the fact that they were leaving,
nothing else concerned me at all.

“ Millie. Still sure you don’t have a willy ?”

Adrien cackled as he said that, his voice so husky it chilled my bones, it always
sounded like he was whispering. I made no response just looked down at the ground,
not bothered. The memories of that phrase struck me like the tangy flavour of a toxic
waste in my mouth.

“ Come on Mills, I was only joking.”

He started to pace around the chair I was tied to and when he got behind me, he put
his bony fingers on my shoulders and started to play with my hair, that fucking
pedophile.

“ I could always check though you know.”

I rolled my eyes so far back, I’m sure my eyes would’ve been white. I finally parted my
lips and it sort of hurt, the way it always does when you haven’t opened your mouth in
a long time and that was just fitting for the situation because that’s how it always was
with my brothers. Me not saying a word.

“ Why do you still look like a prick after 5 years ?”

I sighed as I spoke and it sounded odd to hear the sound of my own voice but if it was
any constellation it was way better than hearing anything that came out of Adrien’s
rancid mouth. He scoffed and came back round to face me he was about to say
something serious I could tell because he still folded his arms and spread his legs
further apart, trying to assert dominance as always. I wasn’t exactly ready to hear
anything serious even though I was acting so nonchalant about everything, my palms
had never been so sweaty in 5 years and I could feel the heat rush into my cheeks the
way it always did since childhood. The truth was and will alway be, he’s my scary older
brother. To try and stall anything that would most definitely give me an eternal
headache I asked,

“ Where’s Melvin ?”

Adrien’s jaw tightened and it didn’t even look like he moved his lips but I heard the
words.

“ He’s dead, Mills.”

There was silence and his words just echoed in the basement, we looked each other in
the eyes for the first time. The dripping of a rusty tap became the loudest sound in the
room, all of a sudden that dim flickering light above me was too bright. I wanted it to
be dark, all dark so that I could hide away in it’s comforting arms.

Someone else entered through the open heavy, metal door and had to duck his head
as he did. The shadow of this person cast over me and all I saw at first was a towel in
large hands, wiping away what looked like black ink.

“ Dead now am I ?”

Melvin, the fucking beast. His low voice bellowed throughout the whole room and as
much as I’d like to lie, I was so relived to hear that voice . It was a fleeting moment
though and that’s not a lie.

The heftiness of my head started to become apparent as I watched the two of them
standing right next to each other. A ghost of them from years ago haunted the image
of them staring at me strapped to a chair under a dim light. Nothing was funny but I
started laughing because it was a reflex reaction to their presence. Whenever they
locked me in cupboards when I was 4 I got quite used to the dark and crying in it,
since they never stopped doing that I would laugh at the situation. I adapted to my
sadness and laughed at it because there wasn’t much else to do. Same thing applies
here, I could have started to cry sure but I would have still been strapped to the chair.
I could have pleaded for them to let me go but I would have still been strapped to the
chair, so I just laughed because it was less painful to do that and guess what I was still
strapped to the chair.

I think they were waiting for me to ask the obvious and 5 years ago I would have
because I still had a bit of curiosity left in me but then I just wanted a paracetamol and
a bed. It got a little awkward with them just watching me and all I remember feeling
was bored.

“ Don’t want to know why we’re here ?”

I considered Melvin’s question, looked around at the dingy and damp basement then
looked down at the tight rope around my chest and arms at the back. My boot laces
were undone and it’s weird when my hands were free I never felt like tying them up
but now that they were tied up, I didn’t want to do anything more than that. Finally I
looked back up at the ceiling at that giant butterfly, so big and pink and that triggered
the memory I was looking for all this time. I knew there was something, just something
about butterflies.
The faint scent of lilacs in our garden was one of the only good things in my life when I
was younger. I remember this one night when I was around 7, my parents left me
home alone and went out to dinner themselves leaving me a can of beans to eat.
Adrien and Melvin were away at a summer camp. It was my own little heaven, being
out in the garden knowing that none of them were home to poison my time alone. I
learned at a young age the value of privacy and have never forgotten it to this day. I
was sitting on the one patch of grass that wasn’t dead yet by some miracle, it was soft
and comforting under my bare legs. I sat there in my dress, it had a flamingo on it with
puffy sleeves.

The only dress I had, from my grandma who died too soon. When I was 8 I found out
she had died and we never went to her funeral because the car was out of gas. The
evening air was warmer than anything I ever knew, the sky settling into it’s darker
shades and I was enjoying my own company. As the late night traffic grew louder I felt
something itchy on my nose and when I looked down to see if anything was there, I
saw something. Jumped at the sight of it, a pink butterfly. I ran around my garden a
million times since it was chasing me, a butterfly was chasing me I know sound odd
but by now it’s normal. I found myself laughing after a couple of laps around the
garden and when I finally ran out of breath and set myself back down on my patch of
grass the butterfly perched itself next to me as well. That was only the first time I had
seen it, it was the summer holidays and for the rest of that period I played with the
butterfly each day. My days had been saved by this pink insect with the most beautiful
wings, I had an ounce of the childhood I deserved through that butterfly. It
disappeared though, the last day of the holidays I remember looking all around for it
and for months after that I always had my eye out for it. I learned then an important
lesson and that was not to rely on anything, ever.

Melvin repeated his question as I came back into my senses a tear dampening one of
my eyes.

“Do you not want to know why you’re here ?”

I shook my head and said,

“ What’s the deal with the butterflies ?”

I tried not to sound like I cared much because when I made it clear that I was curious
about something they wouldn’t tell me for ages until I did things for them.

Adrien stepped forward making me flinch, fists jammed into his pockets and said with
way too much pride,

“ That. Millie. That is our symbol.”

He sprayed spit all over my face and looked at me with stern eyes, Melvin of course
followed toeing over Adrien and me.

“ Symbol for what ?”

I asked,

“ We run a business Mills and then we got the butterfly gang doing any dirty work for
us.”

Adrien said.
I made the links and then slowly said still putting things together as I spoke.

“ So you run what a drug business ?”

“ We started off as real pharmacist I swear but we get to Utah..”

Adrien slipped into story telling mode,

“ ..and we realise fuck prescriptions. See Melvin and I we experiment with making
some shit of our own and it starts working out pretty nicely so we go transnational,
we’re just visiting here for now. The butterfly gang sells our ‘ happy pills’ here in the
UK.”

I furrow my eyebrows because I have that awful thought in the back of my mind so I
say what I was hoping I wouldn’t have to.

“ So Rex works for you?”

No response was made from either of them they just stood in front of me and stared
smiling this sinister smile which sent shivers down my spine. At that point I forget
about everything else and demanded that same question again and again, screaming
at Melvin and Adrian until I got more than muffled laughter.I most definitely lost my
shit, my unwashed hair flying around in front of my face, my face full of heat and
sweat.

“ DOES HE WORK FOR YOU JUST TELL ME FOR FUCKS SAKE ?”

I was done after screaming that since I was out of breath, so I just sat there panting
and those sons of bitches just laughed at me the way they always did. Melvin and
Adrian, my two older brothers that tortured me when I was younger. To make this
more interesting I would want to make stuff up like they raped me or something but
I’m Millie, a blurry face. They were just typical older brothers who got into drugs and
were just a little weirder than your usual person. In all honesty at that point just sitting
in the chair after screaming at them I didn’t hate them, I didn’t like them either and I
see that now after all those years, the reason I was screaming so much was because
they may have had the one thing I loved under their control and I couldn’t bear them
fucking it up like they did my dolls.

With my ragged breathing and their muffled laughter being the only thing that could
be heard it was a shock to all three of us when we heard footsteps slow and stealthy
down the same stairs the two of them had entered through. We all peered down to the
open doorway where someone came in, tall and muscular but the perfect sort of
muscular not like Melvin.We all anticipated the face that would appear as he steeped
into the dim light of the single bulb above us all.

In the darkest of times you appeared, Rex. There to save the day I had thought to
myself, my heart elated at the sight of you so much so that I actually managed a
smile.

“ I don’t work for them Millie, they work for me. Your in that chair because I wanted
you in that chair .”

My elated heart was then deflated by that statement of your Rex because that meant
that you had me kidnapped. You were the apocalypse how did I think you would save
the day.
12- BUTTERFLY WORLD
One thing I’ve certainly learnt is that happiness is a fence with barbed wire and
sadness is a gate that’s forever open. You taught me that Rex.

Now I’m on my way to Joe’s diner because as much as I’d love to think about how the
love of my life had me kidnapped by my two brothers, I’m still hungry. I walk it to
Joe’s, it’s not that far and I could do with some fresh air. That smell of damp rain never
seems to get old .With my fists jammed into my pockets I try to cool myself down
because I’ve come so far and losing my shit now would just be disappointing.

I’m watching different people cross the streets, enter stores, in their cars and I realise
that I have two categories for them. The one’s I’d kill and then the one’s I wouldn’t. I
realise this as I watch a boy with his headphones jammed so far into his ears, that he
doesn’t hear his giant set of keys fall to the ground, there’s more key rings than
actual keys on it. I wouldn’t kill him, he’s a blurry face and I know this because his
eyes never meet anyone else’s.I see a girl with hair so perfectly curled, you would
loose your mind wondering how it stayed like that in this rain, she’s too good for the
world so she steps over the boy’s keys and just looks back with a glance that say’s ‘
well it’s not my problem.’ No of course it isn’t, your only problems are keeping your
hair safe.I wouldn’t kill her either, she’s not worth it. I see a man sitting out in the cold
he doesn’t have a home, his paper coffee cup that’s rattling in his hands tells me this.
His nose is frozen over with a red shine to it and his lips cracked, he looks at me with
that look in his eyes. He wants to die and I of course can make that happen for him,
he’s basically begging me. I would definitely kill him, freedom is what he wants,
freedom is what I give.

If Adam and Eve saw me now even they would be shocked to see I’ve eaten the whole
entire apple, I wasn’t satisfied with just the one bite.
I’m in front of Joe’s diner now and I’m about to walk in when I see a damp and soggy a
flyer with a flamingo on it and as a gust of wind breaks out sending tree branches off
their tree’s, I’m transported right back to when Rex had me kidnapped.

“ Don’t look so sad my little flamingo.”

Rex looked at me pouting, his head slightly tilted and I was at a loss for words. I sat
there with one thought in mind, ‘ there must be a reasonable explanation for this’,
forgetting that reasonable wasn’t in Rex’s dictionary. He looked amused watching my
face burn from a pink to crimson red. Tears weltered in my eyes and with a shaky
voice all I could manage was,

“ Re..Rex ?”

Then all there of them burst out into hysterical laughter that gives me chills to this
day, their loud patronising voices echoing in the damp basement, those sinister eyes
all locked on me the big joke. I can’t tell you for how long they laughed it felt like an
eternity as I bit my lip hard trying not to cry because I couldn’t let myself become
even more of a joke to them. I didn’t however have any control over the waterfalls
that decided to stream from my eyes , to get them laughing so much to a point where
they were on the floor. I just watched Rex whilst sobbing uncontrollably and he wore a
new face , one I wasn’t familiar with even though I was so sure I knew everything
about him.
“ Millie your facial expressions are priceless.”

Rex said a giant smile plastered to his face and my heart ached in ways that I can’t
even describe, I was still crying and he just couldn’t help himself.

I always wanted to be noticed, to stop being a blurry face. I can admit it now but then I
didn’t know what it was, I was so desperate for adoration from Rex. You never know
how it feels until your one of us. When your in the limelight in any sort of shape or
form you have no fucking idea how us deformed faces want to be where you are. If
you know what it’s like to want to be adored then you may be able to sympathise with
what I did next, when the only thing that’s going well in your life threatens to run away
there’s only one thing you can do and that’s cling to it, run with it, just stay with it
under any circumstances, never let go. Every ounce of desperation blurred the line
between right and wrong and I didn’t think once about anything else, everything is
belittled when you want to impress someone or perhaps more rightly put when you
want to be adored. You get to a point where you’re so useless that to have a purpose
you’ll even eat shit out of a toilet, that’s how much it hurts to be wasting away and
that’s not in the normal way, it’s in the no one will turn up to your funeral sort of way.

I was drowning, gasping frantically for breath and I reached out for you Rex. How
fucked up is that when you’re the one who pushed me in.

“ I’m going to need you to do a special job for me, little pink bird. That’s why you’re
here. I started this world of butterflies and I need your help to keep it going. You’re
here because you’re capable and I need you. I had you kidnapped because you need
to recognise me as your boss and also because you wouldn’t have been able to get
here on your own. We know about you killing Mr. Robinson and it was brilliant, what
I’m saying here is Millie I want to recruit you.”

As soon as he looked me in the eyes and rambled on about recruiting me to be part of

his butterfly world I just translated everything into him wanting me. I blinked several
times since my vision was blurred from crying and then responded,

“ What do you need from me Rex ? I’ll do anything.”

He knew I would say that and just smiled his boyish smile, I feel like an idiot even now
for saying that.

All he did was wave a hand for Adrien and Melvin to leave, one gesture and they left
wish I could have just done that years ago when they pissed me off. Rex stepped in
closer to where I was sitting and looked at me, eyes cold that is until the heavy metal
door shut and his demeanour completely changed. He looked at me not like something
disgusting but like I was someone he loved again and that gave me a sense of relief
that can’t be explained.

“ It’s not much I just need you to do what you do best. Kill and paint but you will be
part of my kill team. The painting now that’s innovative leaves a real signature for the
butterfly gang. You killed someone who may have had me killed in fact, you got rid of
one of my biggest problems within one night now if that’s not talent then I don’t know
what is. Millie look I just want you to be part of my world and this is my world. I know
the kidnapping was rough but I have to be like this I can’t take it easy on anyone or
they’ll think I’m going soft. You understand don’t you? No see I know you understand
because you know me better than anyone.”
I gulped I thought everything was okay now because Rex explained it all and it made
so much sense to me. I wasn’t to bothered about the new job I had I didn’t give it
much thought till later on when it mattered most. I was focused on when he said I
knew him better than anyone else, because I melted away and he often had that
effect on me, making my brain soup so that I couldn’t think properly. I just told him I
understood and that I loved him, he never said it back but I didn’t notice because he
was untying me from the creaky little chair I was sat on.

“ Wait Rex. The fedor- Mr. Robinson I mean what’s going to happen to his body it’s in
my basement and if someone see’s the-”

“ Mr. Robinson is a person who won’t be missed, has no family and already faked his
own death in the eyes of the law and his little workers are no match for us. As for the
disposing of the body we got a picture of what you did sent it out to his little monkeys
so they know he’s gone and someone will be getting that all cleaned up as we speak.
See you never have to sweat the details with me, I am always one step ahead of you.”

More like a million Rex you bitch.

He winked at me and his hands were on top of my mine that still burned from the tight
rope, it was the most healing feeling then so I managed a smile and asked,

“ So Rex what is this Butterfly world of yours I don’t quite understand.”

“ Millie I can show you everything tomorrow and I’ll tell you anything you want to know
right now, just ask me.”

He said staring unfalteringly into my eyes, all of his attention on me and that’s when I
had a thought that would console me through my years of being around Rex. The less
I know the better.

I just told him I wanted to go to sleep because it had been a long day, he brushed his
lips against mine lightly and told me we would go back to his place. Then I
remembered my shitty brothers and them probably going home to my parents I hated
living with them so going with Rex was heaven.

“ I only have one question why did you hire my brothers ?”

We were walking up the never ending stairs to his apartment and my legs were about
to fall off, he just smiled and told me

“ I met them a few years back.You might not like them but they make good ‘ happy
pills’ and they help soften business deals. If it’s any consolation I wouldn’t have
thought they’d be related to you.”

“ So what are you a drug dealing pharmacist ?”

“ All pharmacist’s are drug dealers but no. There’s a lot more to what I do then you
know.”

“ Clearly.”

I said dryly but just thought as he turned the key to his apartment door, the less I
know the better because I was adored.
13- BUTTERFLY FACTORY

Everything, even the living things are like machines- unfaltering machines. You can’t
stop them their all just working like it’s the algorithm they breathe by, usually it’s just
breathe in and breathe out- with them it’s seal this, stamp that. It’s exactly what you
would picture and that was a surprise to me because I didn’t expect to see giant pipes
everywhere, and lines of these metal machines. I’d say hundreds of people were
sitting there working and that looked like the whole world to me. The butterfly factory
was situated in this giant warehouse, took us 2 hours to get there and honestly along
the car journey you stop looking out of the window and just hope you get to wherever
your going. By the end of the bumpy ride there I had fallen asleep so when I when I
woke up I was jolted awake by the sharp turn Rex made and the sudden brake when a
van pulled out in front of him. He screamed at the big guy driving it saying,

“ Move out of my fucking way.”

The guy just nodded, I remember that big guy blushing and looking down like he was
embarrassed. It was interesting to see the roles reversed you know; the guy in a
spider-man shirt in a car that wasn’t his ( it was Milo’s a friend of Rex’s) and then the
big guy driving an even bigger van. That’s the kind of power Rex had, making
novelties out of everything.

So we arrive and the sun is blinding but I squint to see rows of old warehouses just
standing there waiting for us to come in, backs soldier like just like the people inside.
No other buildings even came close to sight and barely any cars rode along the roads.

I remember standing in the office with Rex it was right on top of where all the workers
were doing what they were told. Watching them package happy pills and run around
like monkeys just rubbed me the wrong way and I couldn’t help but say to Rex,

“ Why do you do this ? What are they your slaves ?”

I laughed as I said it and my eyes were still glued to all of them working in unison with
their navy blue overalls. I’m telling you it really was like a scene out of a movie.Rex
was working on something at his sleek white desk, looked brand new to me always
did. It was in what I thought then to be nanoseconds that he got up from his seat and
rushed towards me and to where I was looking. He looked angrier than I had ever seen
him and to be honest he hadn’t ever been angry around me so when I saw him clench
his jaw and look me dead in the eyes my stomach fell and the word ‘ sorry’
immediately rushed to my lips but stayed there as he put his arm around me, he was
breathing heavily and I felt his chest going up and down beside me. I had never been
so terrified of him, his arm around me felt like at any second it would collapse around
my neck and squeeze hard, at the time I thought it was preposterous to think like that.
He finally said something and I just froze when he spoke.

“ You only see what you want to see Millie. All of these people didn’t have lives, they
didn’t have a purpose before me. So no their not my slaves their people who needed
jobs. See him..”

He was pointing at a ginger haired guy who looks like he was well into his 40’s
“.. that guy over there lost both of his children in a custody battle and the mother was
the fucking drug addict not him but she was also the better liar, women always are.”

Rex I should have just slapped you when you said that last part.

“ His name is Jerrod and he had hit rock bottom. The guy loved his kids and he had no
job after he started drinking soon he had no home. He was on the streets, do you
know what that’s like ? No you don’t. He was out there for 10 years. I found him and I
gave him a reason to keep going, put him here gave him his house again, got him
back on his feet and guess what he’s got his kids back now.”

I just gulped and looked up at him, he was still looking at Jerrod, he always looked at
me when he talked to me but not this time. I stared at this look on his face, a smile on
like he was God himself and that was the first crack in his mask.

It almost felt like a dig at me what he was saying because I had been in a similar
situation with Grace and back then my thoughts always went back to her, the
difference between me and Rex was he saved a life and I killed the woman. So
truthfully even I thought he was like God.

I was going to apologise but then he sort of just slipped back into his normal self like it
was a suit and started to talk about how the butterfly factory worked, with them
sending out the ‘happy pills’ to trucks that were stolen from other company’s so they
had their logos on them.I mean imagine seeing a Tesco delivery truck, expecting to
get your groceries and inside there’s ‘ happy pills’, crates and crates of them.

“ You know I started my little butterfly world when I was around 15.”

I was sitting on top of a big meeting table that was in Rex’s office still feeling
embarrassed from earlier so when he said that I whipped my head around and my foot
that was leaning on a chair slipped.

“ There’s no way.”

I said, my voice low because I wasn’t sure if I could talk to him normally just yet. He
smiled at me with his boyish smile and that’s when I knew that everything was okay.
He continued and it was almost like I was in nursery again or something like that,
listening to his stories. What he meant by he had started this whole thing up when he
was 15 was that he was younger and he made friends, good friends ones that would
stay loyal till the very end because that’s what business is all based on, that’s what he
told me. Those friends helped him now 10 years later with everything, see the
butterfly gang, the butterfly factory the whole thing it’s supposed to be a sort of
rebellion.

“ I had a job sure in a fucking comic book store and I was 22, I didn’t go to university, I
could because I was too good for it Millie, we all were. I didn’t do anything useful for
myself.I didn’t want to do I thought I could travel around the world or something like
that, do something great I’m not sure. When I realised that it wasn’t going to work out
I was in a slump, didn’t want to do anything, honestly I couldn’t even do anything.
Then I noticed that shitty stadium one time on my way home from work, a friend of
mine had his bike and we started messing around in there. one thing led to another
and all of a sudden there’s at least 100 of us in there. That’s when I knew I had to do
something while I had the chance so we started the butterfly gang. We weren’t looking
for anything except for freedom, we weren’t hoping to all go out together, dress the
same, scare people nothing like that. We just started to get our symbol out there,
started in Melrose and branched out to other places. Small things you know we would
print a couple of t-shirts with butterflies on them go into thrift stores and slip them in
piles of clothes or something. You see Melrose now right, butterflies everywhere and
we did that. We all got tattoos as well and nothing feels as good as being a part of
something that matters to you.When you have the power to do something you keep
going so I did, everyone was getting tired of just the metaphorical sense of being free,
our symbol out there wasn’t enough.”

Rex had this glisten in his eyes it was inspiring almost, his hands were in his pockets
and he was looking out of his office window at the sky it was a clear blue but his mind
probably conjured up something to fill up that space. He had dreams and he was
driven, everything that I had ever wanted to be. He continued as he traces lines on the
window ,

“ I went to the U.S to get a break I felt like a useless shit who started up something
pathetic and couldn’t even keep it going, that’s when I met your brothers. They had
something new, something that made me feel again and I saw it as the opportunity I
had been looking for. People were stating to doubt me and I wouldn’t have anything
left if I didn’t have my butterfly world so I got them involved and we made a whole
business out of it. Everything just sort of fell into place after that. Everything started to
expand we started to make enemies with other drug dealers, some of us got beaten
because we didn’t look like drug dealers. Then we ended up coming out on top and all
of a sudden they all wanted to look like us. See we’re a revolution that you just can’t
stop anymore and you Millie your even better. The way that you killed the Fedora
man, you just fit in with us.”

He turned back to look to me and I saw on the window a butterfly and a flamingo.

I felt my heart race, for the first time someone needed me and I never really got used
to that it always gave me this kick, a purpose if you like.

We drove home and I liked that it was a we and that it was our home. I liked that he
held one of my hands whilst he drove us home. I liked that he knew me like no one
else did and that the same applied. I liked that I was part of Rex’s world. I liked that I
could come with him to work and then we could go out to lunch, walk around for hours
without getting bored.

“ I’ll introduce you to my kill team tomorrow.”

The streets were busy but he still took the chance to look me in the eyes and kiss the
back of my hand that he was already holding as he said that, I never really registered
his words in the moment I foolishly did that later on.

I had the window rolled down because it was August and it was hot, we drove past the
burnt down stadium; the carnival. I closed my eyes and the sound of the night were all
mixed together almost like this cold brew of coffee, so cool at the tip of my nose. If I
listened carefully I would have heard the bitter screams of my soul laced into that cold
drink of the night but of course I didn’t. There had been probing lights of hope inside
of me searching frantically to grab the parts of me that were gone but I was happy in
the shadows; the dark night had become my prince and I kissed what blackened my
soul for fun now.
14- KILL WHOEVER REX TELLS YOU TO ; BE
WHOEVER REX WANTS YOU TO BE
It’s funny how we can choose to end but not to begin, what’s funnier is that even with
a choice to end we still stay. What’s even funnier than that is that I say all of this but I
also stayed.

I’m sitting here at Joe’s now and I have my burger and vanilla milkshake right in front
of me but I haven’t taken a sip or a bite, I’m just staring at my meal and the space.
That’s all there is space around me in my giant booth, just me, my burger and my
milkshake. Very rarely I want to be saved, you know I want salvation, redemption and
all of that shit for everything that I’ve done- for all the people that I’ve killed. The rest
of the times I’m bathing in the luxury of sin because it’s all I have and when I have to
face the consequences I will; prolonged confrontation is way more exciting than
immediate capitulation, for me at least.

I still just sit there not touching any of my food and look at the time. 10PM.
At 10PM Rex and I used to go all the way to the top of his building and watch
everything below us, looking up was what we did when we were on the ground. We
used to try to lip read what people were saying and would make up the weirdest
conversations. I never went back home, anything I wanted Adrian and Melvin had
brought up to Rex’s apartment and that was one of the best moments of my life.
Watching those shit heads lug around my sketchpads, clothes and shoes.

Life with Rex was that dream you never even dared to dream, because it’s so good
that you know you’d get all your hopes up and be immersed in it forever.

I remember sitting on his roof with our legs hanging off it and Twenty one pilots
blasting, people’s heads would jerk up wondering where the noise was coming from.
Rex and I would sing along, both of us having no ability to sing in tune but it wasn’t
embarrassing actually it was one of the most comfortable things for us. There was this
one night when we were listening to ‘ Ride’ and I got way to into it, Rex had gone to
grab us a couple of beers, I hated beer but I never told him that since he loved it. I was
singing the lyrics ‘ I’ve been thinking too much’ over and over again and as
unfortunate as it may have looked I was dancing around right near the edge of the
roof. To be honest it was pretty much inevitable that I tripped over the laces of my
Vans and I had that jolt in my whole entire body.

The one you get before you die.

I’ve always wished for death but in that moment I realised that my only thoughts
were to be saved, I wanted to live and that was strange.I was always looking for a will
to live and as soon as I was about to die I had found it. In that moment I also felt a
rush of guilt for taking the lives of two people, who probably experienced this very
moment, I just felt sorry for them and for myself. Just as the lyrics “ I’m falling so I’m
taking my time on my ride” played Rex’s hand were around my waist and he grabbed
me just in the nick of time.

I should have fell off the roof instead of for you Rex.
“ What are you doing? I COULD HAVE LOST YOU. WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO ME?”

His tone was normal to start off with scared but still normal for the situation at least,
until Rex seemed to have have this thought, his eyes widening, causing him to scream
at me. His arms pulled me right up to his body and he hugged me without letting go,
his hands freezing cold from the beer on my neck and I shuddered. Getting screamed
at by someone who loves you or you think loves you is the best feeling in the world. I’d
never felt more needed by him as he held me like I would disappear if he let go. All I
did was whisper ‘ sorry’ against his chest softly and he kept kissing my head.

When we went to bed that night he still cradled me in his arms, made sure that he
hugged me whilst we slept and when I got up to go to the bathroom he had his hair
ruffled, his eyes half open and he noticed that I was getting up to go, so he held onto
my waist and jolted up out of bed and said,

“ You’re not allowed to leave.”

“ Not even to go the toilet ?”

I said amused at his pout and he shook his head making me giggle but loosened his
grip on me. When I came back I said it was too hot for him to hold onto me so I turned
around but he still held onto me from behind only seconds after.

It would be a lie if I say I don’t miss that because I really do, more than you could ever
imagine.

I take a big ass bite of my burger now at the all too vivid feeling of his hands around
my waist. I slurp the shit out of my vanilla milkshake as well.

I think it was a Friday when I was introduced to Rex’s Kill team, in my head I thought
that they would all be like me and we’d all just bond over the fact that we murder.
Instead we go down to a pub and there’s four of them sitting there, all of them most
definitely in their 30’s.I don’t even know why I tried to imagine something else. There
was Mark, Trevor, Minerva and Louis.They were all sitting in a hardware store that one
of them I think Louis was him name the tallest and skinniest of them owned, they just
stared at me. I just stared back. I wish there were more to this but that’s about it, I
never saw any of them again except for the red eyed neurotic looking woman Minerva,
but more on that later. I didn’t really see the point in meeting because we were all ‘
deployed’ if you like in different areas to kill different people, if we killed together we
could all get caught together.

Mark had a bit of a fetish with knives, he had a keyring with mini knives on it that he
would caress and he would kill anyone that Rex willed for him to, leaving them all
slashed up- decent not creative. Trevor was a strangler, a big guy who was always in
overalls and hands big like they belonged to a bear and in a way they did because he
certainly looked like one; more creative than Mark but what else would you expect of a
Trevor. Louis just did whatever worked, used whatever he could whenever he could-
sometimes depending on where he was this could be quite exquisite, for example
when he used a man’s own belt to choke him and then he whipped him till he was
definitely dead. Minerva drugged people, she liked to dress differently each time
though- the clothes could be comical. You definitely wouldn’t expect a woman wearing
a french fries suit, the yellow sticks sticking out behind her round head to put
something over your mouth; well perhaps you would. I was the wild card though
because I painted over the dead- risky but the best things are.
The first time Rex had me kill someone of his choice, he told me exactly how he
wanted me to do it and told me what to paint.My initial reaction was simply no, he
obviously didn’t get how to go about these things with his basic ideas- I did not
however relay any of these messages out loud. I was extremely troubled at first with
changing up how I killed and mainly how I painted but that didn’t even come a close
second to the troubled feelings I’d have if I didn’t impress Rex.

To impress you Rex, a person has to become a version of you essentially. And what a
devilish reflection it always is.

It was a Saturday night, especially hot and my hands felt all clammy because I didn’t
know if I could do as Rex had instructed. Under the midnight blue sky I stood in my
jeans and black hoodie by a bus stop, I had to wait till I saw a Man in a navy suit, then
follow him, corner him, stab away, blah blah blah and paint big butterfly wings coming
out of him. It was all so textbook, actually not even it was just stupid.
The night dragged on and I felt like I’d been standing there for an age and still no navy
suit, cars passed me by and I remember counting all the white ones, an old woman
who was sitting out front of her grocery store eyed me, she had a glorious fan set out
in front of her and was peeling an orange, with her giant flip flops splayed out in front
of her and that was the most interesting thing that had happened that night so far.

It was when I was nodding off but was prodded awake by the severity of Rex’s
instructions, that I saw my target. He was shorter than I was excepting just a smidge
taller than me, he had a sharp pointed out chin and hooked nose, his gait hasty and
sweat decorating his tanned forehead, with his phone glued to his ear. I followed
because that’s what Rex said to do and I had a hunch he knew somebody was after
him judging by his panicked demeanour, if it were on my terms I would have aborted
the whole thing because it was fated to go wrong, very clearly the target was already
in the mode to run. Rex however said that no matter what I should stick to what he
say’s.

To my surprise the man who had apparently caused the crashing of one of Rex’s
trucks with his ‘happy pills’ in them didn’t turn around even once. He did it by accident
that is but he worked for someone Rex didn’t like so accidents didn’t matter. It was a
breeze just walking behind him, hands lodged into my pockets. The street lights would
occasionally shine down on him and the sweat seemed to grow in buckets every time I
caught a glimpse of him.
It was as soon as he made a turn into a gap between two shops where no one was that
I became more alert because that’s where it would go down. I took a quick look at the
vague but clear enough instructions Rex sent me on my phone :

1)Wait at the bus stop till you spot navy suit.

2) Follow navy suit to wherever he goes, don’t try to take any detours just follow !

3) Navy suit will most definitely turn into a gap between these two shops, he’ll be heading up
to see a friend of his for help. Follow him into there and make sure he doesn’t get to the black
staircase.

4) Have him against the wall and threaten him with the knife. Don’t try anything else. Make it
quick.
5)Once he surely tries to negotiate stab him in the gut and tell him the butterfly gang warned
you. Then do that again in the same place.

6) Slit his throat to finish off the job and you should find behind the second rubbish bin all your
art supplies.

7) Paint the wings and get out of there fast. Do everything according to my instructions.

Rex had been right so far, of course he had so I reached for my little criminal in my
back pocket my hands shaking because his instructions were idiotic and plain but
more so because he told me if anyone could do it , it would be me and it was
becoming more and more apparent that I couldn’t do it.Navy suit and I were both in
that gap between the shops and I was gaining on him, ready to do as I was told, my
hands hot like my beet red face and my heart pulsating like it would stop very soon.I
bit my lip hard and told myself to keep going but I froze.The same ecstasy that drove
my manic killing before wasn’t running through me, I had no motivation to kill this
man who I knew nothing about; he wanted to live- that’s what I did know and that
made the guilt of it all intensify.

The thing is before the very moment I had to execute the task, I hadn’t considered for
even a second what I was doing, which is crazy to think since I was about to kill a man.
It should be dually noted : the previous murders I had committed were not
premeditated nor started off with intentions of malice. One was pure insanity, a
different brand of insanity that isn’t usually related to murder and above all things
Grace wanted death, she was about to commit suicide- there’s a good chance that if I
hadn’t killed her that night she would have done so soon enough. The fedora man that
was all self defence. All these thoughts rushed back to me as I tried to breathe,
hanging on to every oxygen molecule that was escaping my lungs grasp. I wasn’t this
genius serial killer. I wasn’t pure evil disguised in the body of this rather average
looking girl. Killing wasn’t this art that I had been convinced it was thus far. Taking a
person’s life wasn’t an easy task. I wasn’t as experienced with any of this as Rex and
admittedly I had thought. When you boiled my actions and thoughts down all of it was
a cry for attention, all of it was a sad artist, everything so mixed up - I was still
pathetic and nothing was going to change that, not even killing people.

I froze up completely because I didn’t have it in me to kill on command. I ended up

watching him scramble up those same black staircases I should have probably
dragged him down and that was it my prey had vanished right before my eyes.

I felt a pang in my chest as I thought of what Rex would say and I had no clue at all
which made guessing and rationalising how awful it could be for me, impossible.With
my back against the wall I unzipped my hoodie feeling my thoughts ensnare what I
wanted to avoid but it was already starting; a panic attack. There I was hugging myself
and sliding down the wall, my breath ragged as I hyperventilated. My hands found
their way into my hair and I scrunched the wispy black stands in my hands as I let out
screams of frustration.I hand’t had one in a while so the feeling was of this ghostly
kind that took seize of me in a mocking sort of way. Getting back to Rex’s apartment
was a journey ridden with panic so I bit my nails in the Uber barely breathing as I sat
there with the window rolled down hoping it would help, but nothing would help.

When I did eventually get home that night I stood in front of the door for a while
leaning against it not wanting to go inside but soon enough my shaky hands turned
the key. I only looked down at the wooden floor at my suede ankle boots, my mouth
chewing at the sleeve of my hoodie. My shaky legs stopped in front of one of his
monkey paintings with my clothes all clean, my face ruined with tears, my eyes puffy
and he just knew. His eyes trapped mine with a fierce glare, so that I couldn’t look
away, he asked for the sake of asking,

“ Did you do it ?”

His voice stern and almost turning into shouting. All I did was shake my head slowly
and the started to sob so loudly I didn’t hear him walk over to me soon enough his
hands trapped my arms as he thrust me against the wall, hard.

That was the first night that Rex hit me.

On my arms there were always bruises, on my legs there were always cuts and on my
wrists slashes and those would be the only self inflicted injuries. I look at them faded
out now as I’m pushing the door open of Joe’s to leave. I’m remembering each event
that matched each scar, my body is almost a dot-to-dot and the picture would a big
menacing butterfly. I stare intensely at a big one on my leg that curls at the end, a
hint of purple outlining it.

My arms are all cleared up except for right on my shoulder, I pull my shirt down a little
off my shoulder to look at the bursts of colours, reds of reminiscence swimming
around in the blues of my soul; it’s the size of a fist. I lightly trace the gnarly thing with
the tip of my finger going around and around in circles, as my thoughts do the same
until I decide to press down hard on it, triggering it’s origins to put my thoughts in
order and take me back. I look up to the sky and it’s turned the colour of a fresh bruise
itself as night is getting into its full costume.

That night when Rex hit me was one of the most terrifying nights of my whole entire
life, I thought then as he unbuckled his belt and held it in his hand tight like a whip,
which it essentially became, ‘ this is the end.’ The end of him loving me that is, my
stupid bird brain was afraid not of being hurt physically but of Rex leaving me. With
his jaw clenched I remember him walking closer and closer to me, the door still open
behind me- an opportunity. I had many ajar doors like that one, times when I could
have escaped, places where I could have screamed out for help, but you only ask for
help if you want it. I stood paralysed, shaking was what I had been doing on the way to
his apartment, all I focused on was the distasteful look in his green eyes that were so
maddened by disgust the grey undertones seemingly took over and they didn’t look so
green anymore. When his chest was right up against me I remember noticing the
difference between other times this had happened- fear and love both live in the same
house. His breathing was ragged, with his hands twitching with tremors of rage he
had carefully managed to push me up against the door( the only careful action of the
night) and his free hand shut it completely. As soon as the door shut, that terrible
sound marked the beginning of the trepidation.

I don’t feel that words suffice the events of that night, words shouldn’t even need to
exist to describe what he did to me that night and I know that now. All I can say is by
2AM I was on the floor, a whimpering dog, injured to a point of not being able to move-
I slept on the floor of what was once our room that night; Rex had actually told me to
stay out but it was me who came teary eyed to him, I was too used to sleeping near
him. Note here the insanity of that, forget the craze of murder and look at the
willingness of degradation I had for myself, all for this man- he was just that good.

Instead of painting my tears away the way I used to, I let them soak into my cheeks
wanting Rex to wipe them away but he never did.Art had always been the biggest
coping mechanism for me for so long but I gave it up for my new coping mechanism
because I was so sure that it was worth it.

If I knew then what I knew then what I know now as far as value went Rex you
wouldn’t even sell in a pawn shop.

My days after that were so hazy it’s hard to remember, I was just high ‘happy pills’
because I really needed them, tracing over the lines of the scars that I had, drinking
during the day to relieve my mind of any sympathy for when I next needed to kill
which was exactly 2 months later, taking pills that weren’t mine- I did anything that
would help me forget the fact that the person I love made me hurt so much.I just kept
telling myself I was in love with Rex and nothing would ever end that.

After way too many days of sedating myself, begging Rex to come back to sleep in the
room, almost being kicked out on several occasions. The daunting, dreaded,
despicable day arrived. My second kill, my second job, my second crucifixion. Rex
gave me the chance reluctantly and I begged persistently day and night telling him
that I was capable and that I could definitely do it this time. At first the words carried
no heft, I was still terrified of the whole ordeal and knew that there was no way I would
be able to just kill someone the way that Rex wanted me to.

But then something changed in me, these insatiable desires no needs took hold of me.

15- STOP CHASING AWAY MY DEMONS THEIR MY ONLY

FRIENDS

I’m sitting in a park now feeling the meal from Joe’s jumble around in my stomach as I
kick the gravelly ground to push off on the swing. As I go higher and higher up of the
ground, I feel like I’m away with the stars that I stare at intently.

Do you know that feeling, the one you get when you don’t feel like absolute trash for
once, I’m getting that now.

The evening air’s laced up with the sweet scents of the the rows of flowers inside the
park, their all lined up perfectly in this one patch and I wonder how long until some kid
kicks a ball into that perfect patch to crush those delicate petals. These thoughts draw
me back to Rex, everything draws me back to him. He was always a perfect patch of
flowers, but he was equally this enigma that even now I can’t say I’ve figured out,
perhaps it would be dangerous if I ever did figure him out. The first time I noticed
something strange about Rex was around the same time these fantasies began to
paint the pictures of my thoughts. It had been a couple of days after I was allowed
back into Rex’s bed, naturally at first we were both at opposite ends- I of course hoped
that would change but got bored of hoping and fell asleep eventually. Trouble
clambered into my dreams, sending these snippets of horrifying shapes and colours
into my head. Pale flesh glowing with a dim street light against the surface of it,
gloriously bathed in a rich red shade, a still pulsating heartbeat would fade out against
the sound of the sirens and gathering people chattering. In the first stages I dismissed
these as some sort of PTSD of the two murders I had committed. Flashes like this were
simply the beginning but as I awoke with a dry throat, afraid of what my mind was
conjuring up I heard Rex sleep talking.

I sat up in bed moving so close to him that I could feel his breath against my neck as
he mumbled incoherently, I waited to hear something that was comprehensible and so
I waited for a while. It was around 5AM and the day was another grey one, casting its
small dismal spells in through Rex’s window and I watched the world outside in a new
guise, with its auburn, burgundy and orange colours. Lost in a world that I never really
belonged in I suddenly felt Rex grab onto my t-shirt and grip it tight. In a panic I
looked over at him and a million thoughts rushed into my head, the most reoccurring
one was that I had made him angry somehow. He was however still soundly asleep if
you can even call what he does sleeping, I lightly placed my hand on his hand that
clenched my t-shirt, poor Winnie the pooh was crumpled up that night.To my surprise
he let go and as he did I finally heard the odious song I had been waiting to hear for so
long , he was talking so vividly that even now I can hear his voice from that night. His
lips softly brushed together to make this sentence,

“ Stop chasing..”

I bit my lip and cupped a hand to my mouth because I was breathing to loud and
didn’t want to miss a single word that came out of his mouth.

“..away my demons their my only friends.”

I went back to bed wracking my brains over what something like that could have
meant. It was after this day that I started to notice there was something strange about
Rex.He thought that I never noticed certain things but I did in fact there was time
when I just couldn’t help but take notice.
, PART TWO : THE CRUXIFIXCTION ,

REX’S POV
Desire is a sin.

Desire is your will to live; an anchor.

Desire is supposed to be forbidden and perhaps that’s what makes it so insatiable.

Desire is a want at the best of times, forever urging you to want more.

Desire is a need at the worst of times, leaving you in the shadows.

Desire cannot be revoked because when it is, it only intensifies as you keep it
waiting.

Desire is the only way forward, without it you will always have a thirst that is
unquenched. There you are always just wanting a taste to bring satisfaction to that
parched throat.

Desire is a lustful, beautiful destruction.

15- STOP CHASING AWAY MY DEMONS THEIR MY ONLY

FRIENDS

She always watched me when I was asleep, it was unsettling at first but I got so used
to it that if she’s wasn’t looking I’d have to do something to make sure she did. I never
knew what it was like to be loved and when she showed me I always thought nothing
of it,. I can’t remember what it was that I was muttering in my sleep that night but
when I woke up and looked over at her she was making that face she always made
when she was thinking and I found myself staring at her for once. Millie with her
slightly curled hair, I don’t remember if it was brown or black but I remember her
button nose that was scrunched up. I wondered what it would be like if I did love her.
Then I imagined someone else loving her and I felt something then which was the
biggest anomaly for me, I wouldn’t be able to tell you what but it made my stomach
sink.

I closed my eyes again because that’s the only time when you’re really alone. I
started to think which is dangerous because then I got to thinking too much,
everything always came back to one thing and that one thing was the fact that I didn’t
feel the way everyone else did. My emotions were blunted. It’s a weird thing to say but
around her I was good at my facade only because I knew what she thought of me, she
though I was some sort of God probably still does and I couldn’t let that change. Living
with this emptiness was a curse that I told to fuck off too many times, doesn’t work
like that though. What Millie didn’t know then was that she was just one of my Manic
episodes and that was it. I just took a liking to her because I thought that two fucked
up people could be something, but she turned out to be a girl with too many feelings. I
did want to like her and I tried to but if you try and tell me that emotions are in my
control then I’ll tell you to fuck off as well.

My days consist of my brain being on fire for so long and then it gets put out in
seconds. I’m only ever angry, excited and sad. If you want to know how that feels I’ll
try and put it simply- imagine you keep getting beaten up, you get excited because
you think about hitting back, you get angry because you don’t like getting hit and you
get sad because you can’t hit back.

I told her every night that I loved her because it felt so good to know that I could lie
but it wasn’t all bad because by the end of it we both felt good.
That night she fell asleep after wondering about so little for so long and I couldn’t get
back to sleep, I thought ‘ you might as well add insomnia to the list’.

I got to the kitchen and just took out some drafts of schemes I had, I was never
someone who wasted time. Every moment counted but as the hours went by there
was a feeling in the pit of my stomach and I didn’t understand it. Then I saw her get up
from my bed and something flipped in me, I knew I had to do it.

When she got to the kitchen I started to cry. Then I sobbed uncontrollably and fell into
her arms, her smooth skin against my wet face. She was starting to doubt me i knew
she was I couldn’t have her leaving.

16- WE LIKE TO NETFLIX AND CHILL

For days I imitated this depressed state that pretty much everyone I knew would
always end up in. Millie of course was there, tending to my every need making me feel
like the king that I was.A king - that’s a nice title and I wish I always had that but she
took it with her along with so much more of me. Before her I’d wake up on a tube in
the morning, eyes red, skin cold and I had to sit there for a while to piece together
what had happened until I’d remember the mania I indulged in. I’d go crazy, get on
these high’s and go into stores, smash shit, spray paint walls, steal bikes, just because
the police aren’t good enough.

Millie was a nice criminal which made me uncomfortable, not that it really mattered
much, I was planning on kicking her out but the way she played with my hair when I
laid in her lap wrapped in my blanket caused the plan to take a detour.
Watching ‘ The Big Bang Theory’ with her there made me forget everything that I had
to deal with, which wasn’t something that happened a lot and she wasn’t a problem to
me when she was next to me now that I think about it. I would find myself looking at
her and since she was the only one there I would then find myself kissing her, she
blushed like I hadn’t done it a million times.

Her eyes glued to me and only the dim light from the TV, the soft pattering of the rain
on the windows and that was a perfe- a decent moment. I felt loved and I had no
responsibility to love her back, people like her love relentlessly. I’m smarter than to
think perfe- decent moments last forever and it’s almost like I have a sixth sense- it’s
as if I’m a blood hound sometimes. It soothed me to feel panic stirring somewhere a
few floors below my apartment, I remember looking at the time it was 11: 11 and
that’s when they say to make a wish and I did. Then it came true.

My door burst open with the kick of a strong leg, hungry blue eyes paired with the
sweat and freckles of blood on the face of a fighter, in his hand a prize that was mine.
It was Antonio I suppose you could say in a way he was one of the many nemesis’ I
had acquired over the years. He was someone who hated me because years ago when
I started to get more successful with my little business I became a rival to his own
industry and he wanted to make it clear to me that he was someone to worry about,
so he had started to get some members of the butterfly gang beaten up in streets.
One of my guy’s died so I returned the favour and had his wife killed. After that he
swore he would destroy me and he sort of did, Antonio held in his hands something
that was more precious to me than anything else. He had stolen it because it was his
way t get revenge, really he had been looking for me directly but when he couldn’t
find me he stole the most important thing from me.

“ GET UP AND COME WITH ME YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT.”

His voice thundering throughout the room gave me a thrill that brought a smile to my
face after days of feeling absolutely nothing.

“ I want that first.”

I pointed at the bag in his hands that had the key and lock to a secret storage unit for
my ‘happy pills’ that I hadn’t been able to get to for a few months now, since Antonio
had taken it as revenge one night after he couldn’t locate me. You can call me old
fashioned with the lock and key but I went simple for a couple of my warehouses and
this was a much smaller one so I could risk it, Storage unit 15B the one that Antonio
held the key to I had left the plan to the “Butterfly Destruction”, a plan that had been
decided by me for all my life revised and transformed until it was irrevocable- I even
translated it into code and made sure there was only one copy of it because I was in
this state of paranoia at a point. When I started to become more of a target I knew I
had to be careful but Antonio’s feeble robbery wasn’t something I had considered I
was too busy dreaming about the power I would have.

That night when he had stolen the key I was in this craze. I had just locked Storage
Unit 15B and had told one of my workers to hold the keys fro a second as I went to
check why this young couple were trespassing on the property. When I did I found that
skinny shit who held they keys on the floor crying after he’d been punched by Antonio
who was running with the keys. It was such a bitch move from Antonio but it annoyed
me and he knew small thing like that would- the thing is in this case this was a big
thing my plans were in there and he didn’t know that either way he hit the right spot.
It was all some sort of joke, he laughed as he ran off.

I was in this mania like you could never imagine I’m not sure even I would have
recognised myself but that’s the point of being insane. I ran through the streets in the
rain, chasing down Antonio who had obviously escaped and the ‘Fedora man’ in
Millie’s terms, was Antonio’s scapegoat or at least had a car ready for him, he came to
taunt me as well Richard at the time was pretty big as someone in our business. One
thing I hated was being humiliated and something like that was nothing less than
humiliation. As I shouted in the streets I felt that feeling of when everything is fucked
and there’s no going back, I had worked so hard my whole life but it was all going to
be taken from me because of fucking Antonio and that’s not how Kings like me go
down.

Richard ( the Fedora man) he saw me all alone shouting and was driving off with
Antonio in the back seat but that big gorilla of a man decided that instead of just
driving off as was obviously originally planned to embarrass me even more, I was in
the middle of a street that wasn’t familiar to me and he followed me there.He got out
of the car with a gun in his hand, I didn’t know how he had guns in this country but he
just did. He laughed as he came running towards me Antonio just relaxed in the car- I
didn’t feel like the big Butterfly gang leader just someone they were mocking. I hated
that feeling so much. As he came towards me I ran.

Don’t be mistaken I wasn’t scared, I just had bigger plans in place- I’m always a
thousand steps ahead fuck that I make the paths people walk on. I headed to Grace’s
place since she owed me, Grace was a loyal Butterfly who did small jobs now and
again and she would have to hide me in fact I knew she would love to because she
revered me and it was obvious, instead I met somebody else. I met a dark haired girl
who had a taste for murder so I buried the hate for what had been taken from me, to
save for that very moment when Antonio walked into my apartment which I knew he
eventually would. I got alerts on my phone from a few butterflies that Antonio was
drunk and wanted to kill me, memories of his dead wife had clearly surfaced, and he
had gone after a few of my butterflies whilst trying to get to me.I predicted that there
would be a day like this Antonio was predictable and I had been studying him, stalking
him on some nights to see what his routine was like. He would try to be productive in
the mornings go on run’s and all of that but each night he would crumble and get
drunk and I was going to take the rubble of his pain and repetition when the time was
right and it was.

All I had to do was a simple thing, I turned to my doll and looked at her with water
welling up in my eyes and sobbed like a little bitch . Watching me cry again set
something off in her, that feeling of being able to take care of me came back to her,
just like I knew it would and she leapt off of her feet in seconds, that fear she had to
kill was gone. Her failure with Navy suit set up the perfect trap for that scene of
destruction that I had a front row seat to, it gave her more of a drive. It still brings a
smile to my face watching Antonio charge in like a bull at me, saying

“ You really thought that I’d never find you.”

No Antonio quite the opposite really I was waiting for you to find me, waiting silently..
Those plans were the most important thing to me and I had Storage Unit 15B designed
especially to keep anyone out, built of iron and the only way in was simple if you had a
key. There were no windows to climb through, no side doors and he took that from me.

I sobbed more and Millie looked disturbed by seeing me so upset, something in her
came to life.

I watched Millie tackle that bull of a man to the ground, he pushed her off hard and
she was bleeding in the first 2 minutes but she had more insanity left in her. She
grabbed onto one of my Monkey paintings and smashed it to the ground, an abrupt
move that both Antonio and I were confused at. But she was a smart girl, I’ll give her
that. As soon as Antonio’s attention got back to me and his hands were inches away
from my throat, Millie however took a shard of glass from the scattered variety on my
floor. A sharp shard was in his neck, blood was everywhere which was when I moved
away but she watched the geyser of red with a light in her eyes that made me wonder
how it would feel to love her for the second time. She stabbed away at his chunky
neck to her hearts content and I went to the kitchen to make my dear a cup of coffee
for her hard work.

Whispers, screams, all assortments of tones had a meeting no a riot in my head, my

demons telling me all sorts of delicious secrets about how clever I really was, they
sang my praises, orchestrated this melody that even I hummed to as I took a mug
from my cupboard, the chorus of the whole thing being Antonio’s exasperated voice.
My demons had returned back from their graves, I loved to dance with the dark side of
me, which truthfully was everything beneath the surface of my mimicry.

Millie, small and feeble stood shaking like it was the first time she had blood on her
hands. I couldn’t help but smile at her and gave her that coffee which had Zolpidem in
it, something I used to take when I did actually have insomnia, a period of restless
nights from my first real phase of taking pills. There were so many choices of what I
could have intoxicated my doll with but she was already half drunk on my love
otherwise she wouldn’t have killed a man, actually considering her track record she
just might have.

She was like a leech clinging on to me as she became drowsier but I powered through
her clawing at my shirt and trying to kiss me, I kept assuring her that I’d call someone
over to clean up the mess she’d made. As soon as she was limp I got her in my room
and locked the door because her night may have been over but mine had only just
started.

The dead body of Antonio, his snarled cold lip and that neck that was painted over
with red, the most important detail being his motionlessness it was getting me
excited- more excited than I had been for a while. It took a lot to make me feel
something that was worth feeling and the corpse of a guy who fucked me over did the
trick. I sniggered a bit at first just sitting on the sofa, then the hysterical laughter
came, tears fogging that wonderful view. I undid my trousers and then we can just say
that the blood wasn’t the only mess on the floor that I had to clean up. I called my
butterflies to get everything sorted but not before picking up my blueprint to success,
the giant scroll looking piece of paper was like a key in my hands and everything was
already set into motion.

During that, well I don’t know how to put it- we’ll just say that euphoric state I thought
about the name Millie gave me, ‘ Rex.’ That’s when I decided to make that my official
name. I didn’t have one anyway. It went from ‘ the kid who hit everyone’, to ‘ the kid
with the lizard in his pocket’, ;
‘the kid with the dead lizard in his pocket’, ‘ that guy with the dead eyes’, ‘ that
mysterious guy in the back of the class’, and then we have ‘ the guy who ran the
butterfly gang.’ My real name is … nah I won’t tell you. I bet you’ll try to figure it out
now. You’ll wonder who I am, am I a Jack ? No maybe I’m a Matthew ? Andrew? Paul,
yeah that’s it. But really you can’t ever know who I am; I simply do not exist.
17- HULA HOOPS
That salty taste was still in my mouth after I finished my hula hoops so I kept licking
my lips, I had just finished a meeting with my butterflies it was all just the usual telling
everyone what they were doing wrong and what to do instead. They needed to make
the deliveries of my ‘ happy pills’ quicker and they needed to be more discreet, we
were all targets at the time because of the deaths of so many important people - their
measly followers would have wanted revenge. I was sitting on a park bench watching
the dead leaves get shaken off tree’s and that salty taste in my mouth was still there
and before I knew it I was back to when I was a kid. I used devour hula hoops all the
time, when I was around 7 I had been sent home from school for being too ‘mean to
Tim’, he was a little prick who wanted to be my friend all I did was say no and push
him, well I pushed him several time because he kept asking. I was excited to be home
early and my mum hadn’t said a word to me, I didn’t understand that I was in trouble
so I just ran into the kitchen and grabbed a packet of hula hoops not wasting any time
in opening it and putting them on my fingers as was custom. I had about 3 in my
mouth when my mum rubbing her forehead and shaking her head almost charged
towards me. She took the pack out of my hands and knelt down in front of me to say
something she had said to me only once before,
“ you can’t feel anything can you ? There’s something wrong with you and I hope you
don’t forget that.”

That day though I didn’t take much notice to it I just wanted my hula hoops which my
tired mum eventually just gave back to me and kept shaking her head. She never
screamed at me and I somehow knew from a young age that she never would, I
realised this when I was about 5.

I was building something out of Lego putting together all these pieces like I would
really ever build something and my parents came home with a present for me. They
kept calling for me to come see it but I was too engrossed into getting these green
pieces together eventually they just put the odd cardboards box which smelled funny
in front of me. I just looked at it, I didn’t want to see what was inside but my mum just
took what it out for me.

A furry golden ball was in her hands and my dad stood behind her smiling with a cage
in his hand, it was a hamster. When I saw it I was intrigued and I came to like it after a
couple of days, I named him Ham because I couldn’t think of anything else and my
mum thought it was ‘cute’. But one night when I was trying to sleep it was running on
it’s annoying silver wheel and I wanted it to shut up, I got up and told it to stop a few
times but after learning that hamsters couldn’t speak I had to think of something else.
I went to my parents room to try and get them to make it stop but they wouldn’t wake
up, so I went back to my room and sat on my bed with my hands covering me ears. I
could still hear that annoying sound, so high pitched and piss taking.I went to his cage
and took Ham off of his wheel but as soon as I turned to go back to my room he was
back on the wheel.That’s when I couldn’t take it anymore, that sound made my teeth
hurt and something inside me was set alight so I strangled him to death. I only wanted
to make sure he wouldn’t go back to making that sound and I didn’t know what dying
was- I didn’t know it was a possibility. The moon was out that night, a big yellow
stamp in a big black sky and I just stood with a limp golden brown ball in my hot
hands.When I realised it wasn’t moving I just stared at it because I thought it was
asleep but then I heard a sharp stifled groan. It was my mum she was standing in the
hallway her mouth over her hand I assume she saw the whole thing because she
rushed over to me. I said,
“ Why isn’t it moving ?”

She put her cold thin hands on my face and stuttered a bit before she told me,

“ It’s dead.”

“ What’s ‘dead’?”

A smile lit up my face and I got excited.

Then my mum said her famous phrase to me for the first time, “you can’t feel
anything can you ? There’s something wrong with you and I hope you never forget
that.”

I never have forgotten that.They call us psychopaths and all of that shit but when
someone say’s something like that to us they make us what we are.

Millie dragged me out of my thoughts as she "surprised me at work with lunch”. I took
her up to the roof kissing her on the cheek to embarrass her in front of my workers, I
don’t know why I always did that. I liked knowing that I could make her happy but
especially that I could take that away from her whenever I felt like it. When we got up
to the roof of the butterfly headquarters we talked a bit and ate the small sandwiches
she made. I don’t remember what she was saying to me I just sat there and watched
her. I do remember thinking how weirdly animate she was, more enthusiastic than she
knew. There she was flesh and blood, her heart beating and her veins coursing with
red liquid just like everyone else, I liked to think of people like that, breaking them
down to what they really were was always comforting to me. I had a blank expression
on my face and was just going through the motions because I didn’t know how else to
live. I felt like I always gave my best performances in front of her, I would come to life
and act like ‘Rex’ to see her in amazement of me and so I interrupted whatever she
was babbling on about and started to talk about something else. After around an hour
I told her that I had to get back to work and got up but as I went to leave she said
softly,

“ I know you want to avoid the topic because you looked really upset when I was
trying to talk about it earlier but a few nights ago when I killed that guy what was it ?
Antonio ?The whole thing has me feeling weird. I think there’s something wrong with
me and I know that’s not some sort of big realisation but I kill people Rex it’s not right
I know it’s not but it’s never really been my fault has it ? Tell me it wasn’t my fault
Rex.I don’t like what I’m becoming and I never talk about it butI feel weird.”

She felt guilty of course she felt guilty, she always chewed at her nails for days after
she’d killed someone and would get rigid at the sight of police- how typical.

I looked at her our eyes were looked, tears were in her’s. She started her nervous
rambling again,

“ I don’t know why but when it happens I just get too into it. I don’t know actually it’s
hard to explain I mean I’m not saying it feels good it does actually- no I don’t know
and then sometimes afterwards or during I just get numb and-”

I rubbed my forehead and sighed walking over to her and crouching like mum had
done years before and pressed my hands to her small face and said,
“ you can’t feel anything can you ? There’s something wrong with you and I hope you
never forget that.”
She just stared at me now her face was blank but I only smiled and continued,

“ I like you because you’re like me. Don’t you think I know how this all feels, I’ve killed
so many people Millie. I killed my parents you forget that.I know we never really talk
about this stuff because it seems normal with all the ‘happy pills’ and butterfly gang,
murder seems to fit right in, but don’t worry.”

I kissed her forehead with the same burning lips that spit out flames of lies, the truth is
we aren’t alike at all.

I never killed my parents they kicked me out because they thought I was headed in
that direction since I was so emotionless and I made them “uncomfortable” with my
interest in taxidermy when I was 16.I never killed anyone just my pet hamster and I
didn’t know how it felt.I was what you might call a “fraud” but when you can lie what’s
the point in actually doing any of the things you say you do.

I was- no I am a fraud and it’s not my fault if I’m so good at it.

18- LAW AND ORDER

Around December that same year thing started to get really busy at all my
warehouses, I guess around Christmas everyone wants to get high. Loosen up before
they have to forcibly see their families, I hadn’t seen mine in years so this time of year
with all the fucking posters and ads on TV it was all just bullshit. Christmas seemed
like a brand to me not a celebration about Christ. You walk into stores to get milk or
something and you decide you want some cookies as well and then you just see
Santa’s face on a pack of ‘Marylands’ and suddenly you’re put off. I would have to
spend nights in my office, staying on calls with people and reassuring them that they’d
get the relaxation that they had pre-paid for. My office had these acrylic red walls that
I never got tired of and my door matched so well that I would forget that it was even
there. I was also in my office reading over and revising the ‘Butterfly Destruction’ plan.
In just the span of 6 months you couldn’t imagine just how much had changed. I was
compromised there were so many little details to re-work, the logistics and
placements of things. Now that Grace was dead that was one location that couldn’t be
used- none of this makes sense to you and it won’t until I want it to so be patient.
There had been a few roadworks as well that were annoying stick outs in the whole
thing that I had to figure out again.

I was not going to go in blindly and just hope for the best, I wanted to plan down
every single detail to make sure that nothing would go wrong. I wanted to get the
whole thing going and be able to sit back and know it was so obsolete that there was
no way it would fail. Perfect takes time though, so I’d be up nights on end figuring it
out. No one else had seen this well except for Antonio but he was dead. I was sceptical
of him having shown it to someone but the whole thing was in code so even Antonio
wouldn't have understood any of it. I had to make sure this was the sort of thing I
sprung up on my butterflies because this way they would know who was in control, if
one of them helped they would think more of themselves than they should. They’d
been training for the whole thing without knowing as it was. There was however one
very big thing that had changed in 6 months that I had to be able to factor in
somehow; Millie. I had to make sure that she wasn’t involved in it at all which proved
to be harder than I first thought.
Around this time I noticed something about her had also changed but I was too busy to
follow up on it too much. I would find her lingering about my headquarters talking to
Minerva all the time, which wasn’t what was strange since Minerva was on my kill
team and so was Millie. I assumed they were talking about how they’d gut a girl who
crossed them or something. It was the fact that Millie had started to stop asking for
me when she’d come in. Before it would always be her at the intercom asking where I
was, now she’d B-line it to Minerva.I asked Ali to keep an eye on her, a semi-
trustworthy butterfly, but at home she was even weirder. Every time I came into a
room she would stare at me mouth hanging open like I had something on my face but
then she would go back to how she usually was, always begging to sit near me or
when I would tell her to get off of me she’d pout, I never though that I’d actually be
relieved to see that.

I can say all of this now because every time I reminisce I realise things that hadn’t
stuck out to me before and Millie was exactly that.

After weeks of hard work and a returning of my taking Zolpidem it was finished, the ‘
Butterfly Destruction’ was complete, I had laminated it kept it in a large file that
couldn’t be accessed or touched by anyone but me. My desk was something I’d
designed myself where you could open the top layer and inside was a thin enough
compartment to fit the plan inside. Just as I had got that done the problems with the
factory started to become more apparent to me.

An evening that was so cold it forced me to wear a hoodie over my Joker shirt was an
evening that also proved to get my blood boiling so much that I no longer required the
hoodie. I had just locked up everything in my office and was leaving quite satisfied
with the work I had done, I even caught a glimpse of my devilish smile in the window
as I picked up my phone and left. It was when I decided to drive down to one of my
warehouses to see how deliveries were going that everything went to shit. I had taken
Ali’s car because I didn’t have one of my own it was too risky with the number plates
and I saw a couple of people that I didn’t recognise gathered around the back of the
warehouse. They were all had their hand in their pockets and were stood in a circle, it
looked like there was only two of them but as I pulled in further I saw that there were
three.

I parked the car right where I was so that I didn’t startle them and snuck out trying not
to make any noise with the rubble beneath my feet.

I could hear the incoherent whispering and some laughing which hit the wrong nerves
but when I emerged out under the washed out light of the street lamp nobody was
there. It took me a second to question my own sanity but when I looked down
footprints were dug into the gravel and I was sure someone was there. I felt like the
kid who gets forced to count in hide and seek as I looked around not liking that I was
being deceived. After a couple of minutes I decided that the whole thing wasn’t worth
my time so I turned to go back when I heard a snigger that was stifled by a hand as
soon as it burst into the air. My head whipped round to catch sight of three people
crouching behind a van, their shoes coming out from the bottom complete giveaways.
I planned to march over there and beat the shit out of them but instead I went back
and waited by my car. You see the only way to come out of this special area was to go
past me and the car, there was a wall right behind the van and as I walked to my car I
made sure someone on the inside would lock the back door of the warehouse.

Whoever had the audacity to try to play childish games with me had made a mistake.
I took out a lollipop from my pocket and sucked on it for a little while looking at the
three pairs of feet trembling that questioned the route to their next destination. I
whistled a nice tune, the “ imperial march” if I remember correctly and in true star
wars fashion someone was going to make an entrance soon. I started laughing myself
like those giggling imbeciles as I got a notification on my phone that made me smile
even more.

Greg, my second best bodyguard’s shadow was big and strong casting darkness over
me and the whole car as his large feet trudged though the gravelly path, a look of
sheer distain on his square face.His hands already clenched in fists seemed to cut
through the icy air as he came into view, even his shadow trembling at the size of him.
Now I made my way towards that van and stopped just a few feet in front of it to say,

“ Come out, come out wherever you are.”

My voice mocking and musical when 3 men came out their heads hanging low, 2 of
them were young and the other looked like he was going to die soon anyway. I studied
their faces as they looked up and they were definitely none of my workers, obviously
some other rival gang. The youngest and skinniest looking of them all started to
babble an apology of some sorts and the other two looked at him shaking their heads,
they were obviously much more well informed.

“ On your knees.”

They all look confused, Greg stepped closer to where we were and I repeated,

“ ON YOUR KNEES!”

The change in my tone scared the shit out of them the younger idiot with strawberry
coloured hair looked like he just shit his pants and the oldest one really did. I sighed as
I looked at all of their pale faces and watched my cold breath make a little cloud that
faded away as I said,

“ Who do you work for ?”

Neither of them said anything but the youngest one seemed to have learned quick as
he responded looking as if he were about to cry,

“ We work for you.”

I just glared at him and to my surprise they all glared back as if they were being
serious.

“ Don’t fuck around and tell me.”

Silence.

“ You’re going to die soon you might as well.”

Greg pulled out his shiny gun that managed a glisten even in that dim light. Still
silence.

“ Why are you here ?”

The silence was deafening but the sounds of three perfect shots to the head was even
more
deafening.

19- HEAVEN IS HEDONISM

So I woke up the next day slumped over on someone else’s couch, feeling that familiar
droning in my head. Needless to say that night I went over to one of my minions’ place
and had a drink or two just because I could. See I woke up in a panic because there’s
just always so much to do, so much to sort out but then I realised that I don’t have to
do anything that I don’t want to do. The world was my oyster, I don’t like to feel scared
or anxious those are the emotions that I don’t want to feel so I decide to not feel them.
It’s simple. Once this stupid worker of mine whilst packaging our ‘ happy pills’ says to
me “ what’s the key to success ?” whilst packaging drugs he should have been more
careful but either way it was a good question well only because I gave a good answer.
See I took his hand looked him in the eye and said to him,

“ dominate your emotions. You are in control of how you feel.Don’t listen to the shit
you hear from your therapist or read in you self-help books. Everything you feel you
can stop feeling if you choose to. That’s the key to success.”

So I took my own advice that day and I did whatever the fuck I said I wanted to do.
The Butterfly Destruction could wait. Millie could wait. The fear growing in my chest
could wait. I paused everything, why ? Because I could.

So I’m out of Rick’s place if that was his name in a couple of seconds and I’m already
running down the stairs of his apartment complex ready to go out into the world only
to leave it behind. Because where I was going nobody else goes.

I get outside and the air chills my bones, I watch my breath make icy clouds a few
inches away from my face.
“It’s 6 in the morning”
This old woman says as she passes me with her friend and that sinks in 6 in the
morning is some time to be up and out. But I look up at the sky and see faded orange
colours swimming around in it and decide that it’s no too bad, this big guy with his
gym clothes stuck tight to his skin looks me up and down and laughs at me watching
the sun rise. And what do I do ? Well I laugh back of course. He didn’t get it and that
was the whole point, he just walked off confused and I stayed watching the sun rise
from where I was for a few moments but then I decided I was going to the gym too. I
follow the guy in and he doesn’t notice me with his headphones blasting out music
and you wonder why he even has headphones then, I definitely wasn’t ready to go in
and work out with my joker shirt and shorts hanging loose but I wasn’t really there to
work out the normal way.

I go straight to a vending machine and get a red bull out, down it and wait until Mr.
Gym guy notices me, he’s gone straight in with the weights and when he turns his
head for a fraction of a second he see’s me leaning against the vending machine with
my red bull. The look on his face made me choke for a second, he looked at me like I
was his mum who probably hadn’t called back in years. I couldn’t help it at that point I
just started laughing and even knocked over this fake plant that for no apparent
reason was by the vending machine there was hardly anyone in there anyway, just Mr.
Gym and two girls who looked like they were beat and ready to leave as it was. I
decided that I was done with my red bull and walked slowly over to where Mr.Gym
was, dragging my feet against the shiny floor as I went, stretching out my arms
breathing in and out over and over again, you know to warm up. Mr. Gym didn’t seem
to like my warm up because he put down the heavy bar he was holding, unclenching
those red fists and walked away to somewhere else. He looked angry but I thought
that was just me jumping to conclusions because you never really know what a person
is thinking and I thought what if the guy’s just had a rough start and actually he might
be really upset over something. So I follow him around, still dragging my feet see I
didn’t want him to feel alone. I started humming a little tune as he circulated around
the gym equipment deciding what he wanted to do and he looked back about a
hundred times at me, who offered him a smile each time - you know what they say a
smile is the same in every language and again I didn’t want to jump to conclusions
what if the guy was Mexican and didn’t speak a word of English ? Yeah sure his skin
was white as milk but you never want to assume you know.

After a couple of minutes he decides to go on a treadmill and I’m on the one right next
to him, you know so he doesn’t feel alone and he’s turning up the speed until he can’t
anymore. I decide to go at a 4.9 because you should always go at your own pace and
life isn’t a competition. It was a tough 7 minutes I’m telling you. I’ve never broken
such a sweat moving my arms up and down and, I can’t tell you how much my legs
killed after that trying to keep up with the fucking machine.

I looked outside of that shiny glass that was in front of us most of the time to keep me
going, watching how quiet the streets were, those heavy shutters all pulled down over
shops and it’s like the whole world was still asleep but a couple of shops did start to
open up and more people started coming into sight too which was when a little spell of
annoyance stung like a needle in a blood test. And what did I do ? Well I just decided
to look back to Mr. Gym to see how he was doing, I watched intently at the giant arms
and legs that were so defined I wasn’t sure the guy was real. His veins were popping
out of his glossed up skin and he was moving so fast I’m sure that I almost got Vertigo
watching him. After I saw I had been on the treadmill for 7 whole minutes I knew that
it was my breaking point and thought so as to not over exert myself I should probably
stop. My muscles felt tight as I got off the machine huffing and puffing getting another
few weird looks from the guy, I still smiled. It occurred to me that I should stretch and
there was a perfect opening almost made for just me right in front of Mr. Gym’s
machine, so I took my stance and started to lunge right in front of him, breathing in
and out really fast which was when the guy had enough.

He stopped the machine and the sound blared through the gym like a siren, my ears
were ringing as this beast of a man charged towards me. His hands clasped my shirt
tight as he lifted me up against that same shiny glass which wasn’t so shiny
afterwards, I could feel the heat from his breath and those well defined arms and legs
somehow got more sculpted as he came up close.
It turns out the guy wasn’t Mexican and he could speak English.
“What the fuck are you doing ? Do you think you’re funny you piece of shit ?”
He said think like ‘fink’ and his jaw seemed to jut out even more as he spoke or
screamed at me.
And what did I do ? I laughed.

Then got beaten to pulp.

It was only 6:35 in the morning and I had a beautiful stream of blood gushing out my
nose and multiple places on my body felt the tingling sensations of an upcoming
bruise. The morning was still nice and fresh the air only slightly warmer and the sun
was still not fully up yet. I laughed as I ran down the street, you can never get in
enough cardio, I was still on my way to the place that no one else goes.
The street lights are still on, shining this unearthly white light in the day it just didn’t
belong but maybe that’s what made it so worth, stopping to look at. The dead leaves
spiralled in the wind at me feet. The cracked pavement, the rough bricks on houses
that are all squashed together I forgot all about it. I sort of miss the world when I’m
not in it too much but when I’m there for too long I get sick. I passed this street full of
the nicer looking houses in the area and an old man with his guide dog barking so loud
it’s the only sound I can hear over an aeroplane flying overhead, steps out of a black
door with one of those knockers with a a horse’s head on. The man has his black coat
strapped to him like it was uniform, his hands covered with brown gloves safe from the
cold morning. The dog and this man walked towards me slowly and those tinted
glasses that he wore made me curious. He had that stick that blind people have
tapping the ground, almost with a rhythm and I stopped in my tracks, waiting exactly
where I was to see if he could tell if I was there.

The dog passed me by surprisingly like I was a street lamp I was even afraid the mutt
might piss on me. The man passed me by as well with the tap-tap of his stick until he
shocked me and turned back grabbing my shoulders firmly. His wrinkled lip and sallow
cheeks stared me in the face and he asked me,

“ Do you believe in heaven son ?”

I was taken aback and couldn’t answer, stuttering for a moment my eyes wide open
and the temperature dropped significantly.Then I composed myself and responded to
this man who had even dropped that stick of his but wouldn’t let go of my shoulders. I
almost felt a searing pain in them so was obliged to answer really.

“ Of course I do. Here we are now in heaven.”

Now the old man was a little shocked, his grip loosened but when he spoke it
tightened again,

“ We are in a world of indulgence and sin, bastard.”

Then I laughed.

“ Heaven is hedonism. Think about it.”

I shrugged his hands off of me and handed back his stick. I walked off and when I
turned back I could see him, actually thinking about what I said.

It was a good question well only because of my answer.

With blood still trickling out of my nose I went to the place that nobody goes. I went to
my visit my mum.
DAMAGED GOODS

It wasn’t even anger, it was frustration that was keeping me going. Running on the
fuel of my pathetic life that had been set alight by Rex. I felt everything in me drop
piece by piece as I ran like I hadn’t ever before. My hopes for a better life with Rex
dropped into the puddles I left behind, the splashes whipping my shins reminding me
of what I had become. I was my own person at one point and that was hard to believe
at that point because I had let Rex consume me but I had enough of it. I kept thinking I
would turn around at one point, in fact I was convinced that I would go back to him.
The magnetism that kept me close to him kept pulling me back but I jerked myself
away from that and ran with my own identity that was blurred but it was still mine. My
heart beating like it would stop at any point and give out on me, burning though my
chest. My breath wheezing, my head aching with his words and his memories.
Everything about me had become joined in with him. I was a nothing, I was always a
nothing but I kept running because I could be something. The rain soaked through my
white shirt and my hair stuck to me, against my chest I held tightly the remaining ‘
happy pills’. I felt like another me had been living my life and this whole time I was left
behind so I kept running to catch up with her.

This bitch who was everything that someone else wanted, so she butchered me up
and put me back together piece by piece into someone else.

This desperate girl who inhabited my body to feel wanted, so she tore through my skin
every time she was showered with kisses to make me disappear.

She was so hopeless that at the first sign of dreams coming true, she held my neck
and squeezed tight so that I wouldn’t protest.

This clueless piece of shit thought that because her life wasn’t what she wanted that
she deserved compensation for the whole thing, so she carved me out to fit him in.

She wanted love so badly that she traded in her eyes for buttons just like Coraline
except Coraline wasn’t craving the sickening validation of somebody else.

She wanted to be adored so badly that she forgot about what made her who she was
and she left me behind; the one that painted till her hands were rough and dry, the
one who slaved away day and night to make sure that we would be something one
day. She discarded all of that for him.

She thought that it was him that made her. She was convinced that it was him who
turned her into a murderer, she thought it was him who made shaped her talents, she
was wrong because that was me. The dark part of her that sat in the shadows whilst
she was sun kissed and danced around, the part of her that she kept tame till she
needed to kill.

The silent ones that dwell in the shadows, bathing in the dark thoughts you stash
away. The ones that are beaten down by the systems. The ones you ignore so that you
can stay pure even though you’re already infected.

The thoughts that are only scribbled down onto a piece of paper will come to life and
jump out of your bones, they are your only end and your only beginning. They will take
over and I did exactly that.

She erased me to be good enough for him but she didn’t rub away hard enough so it
was my turn to be rid of her and I of course was the one who did all the killing. She
was just the shell of me all along.

I was the damaged goods that didn’t want mending. A sick smile rested on my face as
I ran in the rain laughing like I was mad and I of course was. I saw the headlights of
motorcycles blare behind me and I stopped by a drain, they all stopped as well. I took
the pills from the boxes and emptied them into there, some of them hurried off of their
bikes but it was too late. Those ‘ happy pills’ were swimming in the gutter water now
and with that sick smile as my armour I watched them rush towards me. Then with
everything I had left in me I ran for my life into building 5B, they followed like good
butterflies.

The seconds ticked by and they jumped off of their bikes as we stood in the parking lot
of building 5B, they had me cornered. They brought their knives out of their
jackets.Their knives glistened in the night and I had nothing on me at all, so I held out
two fingers like it was a gun and put it to my own head. I stood there still smiling and
made a sound that a gun would because the person they were looking for was already
dead. I laughed, I was in hysterics and none of them understood, so they charged
forwards; a blind army.

“ GET THE LEECH GIRL!”

Someone shouted.

Rex had a bomb set to go off in there at 11: 11 in the parking lot right where we were
standing. It was 11:10. I knew that because I was a ‘desperate little leech girl’ so I took
in every detail whilst I was around him and I saw it on his phone, a reminder. This
building had to collapse because he was going to build something new there and in
true Rex fashion he had to blow it all apart. He would never changed because he was
never happy with what he had.

I got out in time, of course I got out in time I was right near the exit and I was high on
the new me but none of the others managed it. The damaged goods ran as the orange
flames exploded and the debris splayed out by my side. The sound was exhilarating, a
melody to sooth my blackened soul. I turned back only once to see the collapsed
building, I stood under a street light in front of a car and my reflection stared back at
me from the black windows. I was happy with what I saw, hair messed up, clothes full
of dirt, lips red with cuts and that sick smile lighting up my face.
I’m on my way home in my Mercedes, the window rolled down and I’m wearing that
sick smile because it goes with everything.

THE FLAMINGO AND THE BUTTERFLY

My knees are huddled up against my chest, looking out of the window at a hazy pink
sky and my life feels like a dream. My eyes even feel heavy and I’m about to fall
asleep in that comfy worn out leather arm chair. A small smile rests on my face and
this hot July afternoon couldn’t be more perfect. Just watching the world from afar
brings peace to my soul and I think for a second, ‘I know how God must feel up there
just watching’. The dripping of the leaky tap even that doesn’t bother me as I look out
at this sky that’s breathtaking, the clouds look like white brush strokes on a canvas
that seems to be painted over again and again, either by the sunny hands of day or
the ivory hands of night. I really do feel like I’m going to fall asleep but then there’s a
creak and that’s not supposed to be in my little daydream. I jolt up from my seat half
wanting to sit back down as I walk carefully towards the front door. I gulp because it
really is open, usually it’s just my mind playing tricks on me. I hate it when I’m right
about these things.

I gulp again. Because it’s you. There you are standing in that hazy light, the outlines of
you and your butterfly wings I see it all and know immediately

Your home. You don’t look like you’ve been in a plane at all with your business suit
looking sharp and your hair gelled back. I look down at my watch and it’s almost 3:20,
time to pick Micerious up from school.There you are, smiling your boyish smile and
you look down at your watch too.

“ How was it ?”

I ask walking towards you grabbing my keys and taking yours out of your hands to put
them in the bowl, because I’m driving.

“ What Italy doing normal people work ? Amazing.”

You answers sarcastically looking at me like I’m the only thing that exists. We walk out
of the porch that’s about to break and down the steps towards my car. I inhale sharply
taking in that warm floral scent of July and then I say,

“ Look at the sky.”

You look up squint for a second and shrug,

“ I’ve seen better, flamingo.”

Your left arm grabs onto my waist and we’re walking now like conjoined twins because
that’s what people do I guess- it’s nice and I missed it. I can feel you looking at me
again, your green eyes with flakes of gold studying me. You stop walking so I stop
walking and you have both your arms around my waist now. I look at you and I can’t
explain it but with you I can never sum up exactly how I feel. Yesterday was spent all
in the thought of all the shit you did to me and here I am now consumed in whatever
you’re going to do to me.

You hug me tight and whisper into my ear,

“ I really don’t like you.”

With the drone of a distant lawnmower and the incoherent buzzing of bee’s in the
heat, your voice is closer as you lean is even more and you deliciously whisper
something else,

“ But I really do love you.”

And you summed it up.

We walk to the end of the world with our collars turned up, blood on the ends of them,
knives stuck in our throats, guns pointed at our heads, pills falling from our mouths
and sick smiles on our scratched up faces.

END