by Iris RIvers
“Is there something more unethical than murder?” Lara asked.
“No,” said Ana. “It involves murder.”
“Didn’t we already go over this?” said Lara. “I join. I kill a boy. What else is there?”
“No,” Evelyn said. “You must murder one of us. You must murder a member of Lithe.”
Lara’s jaw nearly dropped. “You can’t be serious.”
“Lara, honey, we’re a group of murdering women. When are we ever not serious?” said Renee. Her voice sounded new to Lara, like a distant horn blaring from the sea.
“There’s no way,” Lara started. “No fucking way.”
“Yeah way,” Evelyn said, leaning into the arm of her chair. “Why do you think I brought a knife?” She pulled a shining blade from underneath her chair; the other girls smiled in response.
“I’m not just going to kill one of you,” Lara said. “That’s unreasonable.”
“You don’t have a choice,” said Violet. Her words settled in Lara’s bones. Would she go that far?
“So,” said Ana, “who do you choose?”
Lara looked to the other girls. “You all are just—just okay with this?”
“Of course we are,” said Sana. “We all did it.”
“Who did you kill?”
“Hmm...” she pondered. “I’m trying to remember her name.”
Lara stared at her in shock.
“Quick, Lara,” interrupted Ana. “Decide now.”
Lara looked to the girls surrounding her—all clashing in different personalities. She couldn’t believe all of them expected her to simply choose someone—as if it was that simple, as if she were picking a wine glass to drink out of and not a person to kill.
“Just say a name,” one of the girls said.
“Seriously, it can’t be that hard,” said another.
“If you pick me, no hard feelings. I won’t even be mad,” another voice perked, and slowly, they all began to speak at once, saying things to consolidate Lara, to convince her. She swore she heard someone say When this is all over, does anyone wanna grab a drink?
When the voices had grown too loud, Lara blurted: “Lowri.” The room quieted. Lara winced, surprised at how easily the name had glided off her tongue. She didn’t even need to think—Lowri’s name was just... there. She supposed she should feel bad—she had just announced her first victim, after all, but she didn’t. She didn’t feel bad. She didn’t feel empathetic. Just embarrassed.
When Lowri began to cry, Lara was horrified. She bit her lip and turned her head, unable to look at Lowri’s flushed face.
“How—” Lowri said in-between sobs, her breaths harsh. “How could you? What did I ever do to you?”
“I don’t—” Lara began, but then everyone broke out in a chorus of laughter. Lara wondered what was so funny—nothing seemed to be humorous about the situation—but they continued to laugh, covering their mouths with their hands and rocking slightly.
“What’s so funny?” Lara threw her hands up. “I don’t see anything funny about this.”
“You are so moronic,” said Violet. “Why would we kill a member? Do you realize how idiotic that sounds?”
Lara looked around, utterly confused. “Of course I realize how stupid it sounds,” she said.
“We were just messing with you, Lara,” said Evelyn. She was still laughing—loud rapturous laughs, the type of laughs that left you with no air to breathe—but her face was still lit with joy. For a moment, Lara was entranced. Evelyn’s blonde hair fell around her face in soft waves, enhancing her pale skin and blue eyes, making her look alluring under the glow of the moonlight. “It was my idea to prank you,” she said sheepishly, shrugging. Her cheeks blushed a bright red.
“That was hardly funny,” Lara exclaimed. Evelyn only smiled while the others snickered in response to her protest.
It was odd to see the group laughing casually, making jokes and smiling amongst each other. What murderer made jokes? They did, she supposed. Psychopaths with a good sense of humor.
Lara hadn’t been sure there would be such a side to them; it was hard to imagine horrible people, people that society convinced themselves were nothing like them, having an ordinary sense of humor, speaking of ordinary things. No one liked to think that killers were possibly just the same as them, just with varying interests—put in the most gentle way.
“Oh, stop looking so scared,” said Ana, picking at her short nails.
“You should’ve seen your face,” Irene yelled, still laughing. “Absolutely priceless. I wish I took a picture.”
Lowri stood, still scowling, bitter at the fact that Lara had chosen to kill her—despite the falseness of the situation. “Unbelievable,” she said, more to herself than to anyone else.
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Come on, you know it was a joke.”
“You only did this because you knew she would never kill you, Evelyn,” Lowri replied. “Your ego is the worst.”
“Really?” Evelyn said, glaring. Lara shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
“Evelyn,” Lilah warned, “let it go.”
Evelyn looked away, suddenly disinterested in the conversation.
“Anyway...” Lilah started, “we really do need to sort something out tonight.”
“The person I’ll actually be killing, right?” asked Lara.
Ana nodded in response.
“Who will it be?”
“Colin,” answered Sana, who stood to the side, leaning against the wall. She uncrossed her arms. “Colin Adams.”
Lara waited for expansion. None came. “And who is that?” she asked.
“He raped a girl named Jen last weekend,” Sana said, her face clouded with anger.
Her words were so harsh, so vulnerable, Lara felt she couldn’t speak. She felt for Jen but she also felt for Colin—in the two most juxtaposing of ways. She wanted to help Jen, to comfort her; she wanted to hurt Colin, to scare him. Maybe this was how Lithe killed their victims. The blistering rage that Lara was feeling seemed to be enough to commit such an act. It almost scared her, but the fear could not outweigh her sudden longing for vengeance.
“We have eyes on him,” said Ana. “He’ll be at St. Patrick’s cathedral two nights from tonight. He goes there every Thursday night—at around ten—so you will no doubt see him.”
Lara listened to her every word. “Am I to do this alone?”
“Yes,” said Ana. “But please call me once it’s finished.”
Lara felt strange, like she’d been submerged into a sinister dream—the type of dream that left one sweating, sucking in ragged breaths and fidgeting in one’s bed. If not a dream, it felt like a movie, a disturbing movie following a young girl and her relationship with death—with murder and gore and loss.
“Is that it?” Lara whispered. She looked down at her slender hands, imagining them covered in blood, imagining them shaking in fear but also in anticipation.
“Why is everyone so serious?” Sana exclaimed, lying back onto the wooden floor and shutting her eyes. Sage laughed quietly.
“Yes, Lara,” said Evelyn. “I think that’s it.” Lara nodded slowly.
They all sat in a tense silence—not awkward, just heavy, weighing down on Lara and the others’ sweaty skin.
“I hope you’re ready,” Ana said, her voice nearly a breath. It startled Lara.
“For what?” she responded, not looking at Ana but at the bell, at the script written across it and the rust lining the top.
“The blood.”
CHAPTER NINE
“The haft of the arrow had been feathered with one of the eagles' own plumes. We often give our enemies the means of our own destruction.” ––Aesop
Lara woke to an irritable buzz in her ear. She slowly opened her eyes, rubbing across her face with a tired hand, and blindly reached around for her phone, finally grabbing it after a few long seconds.
“Hello?” she said groggily, hearing low breathing on the other end.
“You
’re late,” the voice said. Lara’s mind was fuzzy.
“Who is this?” She sat up slowly, running her hands through her dark hair.
“You’re late for rehearsal,” the voice repeated.
“Kai?” she hissed.
“Yes,” he replied. “Did you hear me?”
“I’m not deaf,” she said, turning to the side of her bed, setting her feet on the floor.
There were a few moments of silence, and then: “You weren’t answering me.”
It was odd hearing his voice on the phone; it sounded different—deeper. Lara sat there, almost wishing he’d speak again. His voice was a drug, a vexing enchantment. She felt like she could get drunk off of it.
“Just get here fast,” he said finally, then the line went dead. Lara sat with the phone still held to her ear, waiting for something she couldn’t comprehend.
REHEARSAL HAD BEEN short, for Dunne had to leave early due to an unknown emergency. She’d received a call in the midst of speaking, and, on hearing the news, yelled to the class that rehearsal was over.
Lara was glad for her sudden departure—she’d arrived late again, and Dunne was wholly upset. She was beginning to learn that being yelled at in front of her class was incredibly humiliating, not to mention being Dunne’s least-favorite student.
She was left in the dressing room behind the stage, packing up her small bag. It seemed everyone had dispersed, leaving the auditorium as quickly as they could. Lara took her time. She walked over to the lit-up mirror, pulling a make-up wipe from her bag and rubbing it over her face. She tugged at her eyes, pulling the mascara from each lash. It was a refreshing sort of pain.
As she moved to wipe off her dark-red lipstick, she thought of the conversation she’d had with her mother, when she’d strode into the auditorium, emboldened and ready for an argument. Lara knew her mother was resentful, but when she’d tried bribing Dunne into pulling Kai from the lead, she’d been mortified. Her mother had nearly dragged her from the room by the arm, her grip strong and unwavering.
Seo-Yun had pulled her out into the courtyard, the sun out, the sky clear. It was a complete antonym to what Lara was feeling.
“How dare you?” her mother had said. Lara had flinched, prepared for her to touch her, to hit her, but her mother hadn’t moved.
“I—” she’d started, fighting the burning at the back of her throat.
But then her mother was gone, turning her back to Lara and stepping away, leaving Lara to stand in her own fear and dejection and shame. Her emotions had threatened to consume her—to eat her whole.
Lara looked at her reflection in the dirty mirror, moving her free hand to her back, almost unwillingly feeling for the scars that lined her skin. She could have cried then—the memories of her mother standing over her, screaming in her ears filling her mind—but she dropped her hand from her flawed back instead to smear the remainder of lipstick from her lips.
A sound came from beside her, making her jump. She turned her head to the noise, unaware of who she’d find standing there.
It was Kai—when was it ever not Kai?
“What are you doing here?” she asked. He stood by the doorway, his fingers twitching, looking almost pained.
“I was grabbing my stuff,” he said, moving his eyes from her and instead choosing to walk toward his duffel bag—which rested on a seat next to Lara. He leaned over her, his arm brushing against the ends of her hair, and reached for his things. She could smell his skin—a mixture of the forest, the tall trees and their golden leaves, but also of a certain type of mint, blending amidst his skin and hair and clothes.
Lara inched away from his presence and went back to removing her make-up. He turned away from her silently, zipping open his black bag to check for everything.
“I didn’t steal something, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Lara scoffed. “And even if I did, you wouldn’t realize it. I’m very good at stealing.”
Kai said nothing, as if Lara’s words had no effect on him. That was what enraged her the most—he rarely gave her the response she craved. She lived for the reaction; she wanted to see him looking down at her, hurt and angered, not watch as he ignored her, unimpressed by her waiting gaze.
Wordlessly, he zipped up his bag and began to leave. Lara watched his reflection move fluidly in the mirror, his back muscles flexing and unflexing as he gripped the handle of his bag. It was when he neared the door that he stopped, turning back to look at Lara.
“What’s up with your mom?” he asked casually.
Lara was shocked by the question. No one had ever asked about her mom before—about why she did the things she did.
“Excuse me?” she asked, raising a brow. His audacity was daring.
“I know you heard me.”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t,” he answered, gripping his bag harder. “I don’t have to care to be curious.”
Lara walked over to where Kai stood. They were roughly the same height—chin to chin; toe to toe. This stance felt too familiar in Lara’s mind. How many times had they stood this close together? One too many. She could see the darkness of his pupils expand as she approached him; could hear as he sucked in a heavy breath.
“It’s none of your business,” Lara said at last.
“You let her walk all over you.” Kai’s tone was ridiculing—mocking. “Have you become a doormat?” He tilted his head, looking Lara up and down.
“How dare you?” she gritted. “You have no idea what’s happening between us. None. So don’t act like you do.”
“I’m not acting. I saw you two—your mother yelling at you while you stood there, motionless. The whole thing was amusing really.”
“How would you know anything?” Lara snapped, her eyes burning. “You don’t even have a mother.”
Kai stepped back, his mouth dropping. “Fuck you,” he spat. “You don’t just get to say that.”
Lara relished in his anger, pulling her lips up at the corners.
“My mother is dead—she was murdered.” He was yelling now, his voice filling the emptiness of the room.
“You’re lucky!” Lara retorted, her voice rising to meet Kai’s. “You’re lucky she’s dead. I wish my mother would die every single fucking day.”
“Lucky?” Kai yelled, laughing dryly. “You think I’m lucky? Do you even understand what it’s like? The pain? I wake up every day missing her; I go to sleep every night missing her. It’s all I do—it’s all I can do. So you don’t get to speak. Not about this,” he finished, his breaths hard against Lara’s face. She could see the fury radiate off of him like a perfume.
“You wouldn’t miss a mother like mine,” Lara said. The blood in her veins simmered. This was what he did to her—he made her rage with a sort of blistering affliction. He hurt her, over and over and over, but it didn’t matter. She would only hurt him back. She’d hurt him so badly that he’d be tormented for the rest of his life. She’d hurt him so badly that every time he closed his eyes, she would be there—plaguing his nightmares, bloodying his dreams.
Kai laughed bitterly again, stepping closer to Lara, looking into her dark eyes. “You know what’s funny?” he said. “You act so tough—so resilient—but you’re not. It’s all a façade—a pathetically built façade.” He squinted; pulled his lip up in a sneer. “And at the end of the day, you’re just a child. A child who desperately needs her mother’s approval to survive.”
The tears that had been threatening fell from Lara’s eyes.
She felt the sting against her hand before she had even realized she’d slapped him. The sound echoed against the walls—vibrated across her skin. Lara’s heart pounded inside the confines of her ribcage, and her fingers itched with the need to slap him again; to feel the smoothness of his skin against the roughness of her palm.
Kai looked back at her, fingers grazing the spot she’d slapped—feeling his skin like he wanted to savor her touch, wanted to remember it for the rest of eternity. Then he finally droppe
d his hand from his face and stepped closer—closer than before. Closer than they had ever been. He lifted his thumb and connected it to the corner of Lara’s lips, where her lipstick had been smeared by her wipe.
“Do you know how hard my heart beats for you?” he asked, moving his thumb across her bottom lip, wiping the tears that had spilled from her eyes. He moved his thumb downward and rubbed against the stain, tainting his skin with a deep red.
“People say hearts beat out of love—out of fondness. But for you, Lara? It beats outs of hatred. Out of anger and irreverence and hostility. Out of the worst emotions a person can feel.”
Lara’s bottom lip began to quiver under Kai’s touch.
“It beats like you’re both killing me and kissing me. Sometimes”—he paused, looking down to where their skin met—“I wish you would.”
Lara blew out a shaky breath, unnerved by his words. “Which?” she whispered. “Which do you wish for me to do?”
Kai looked back up to Lara’s eyes, tilting her chin up carefully. They stayed like that for a few moments as Kai considered his next words. “Both.”
And then he was gone, grabbing his bag from the floor and turning his back to her once more.
KAI AND BAKER SAT ON Kai’s couch, legs intertwined. They were both staring up at the ceiling, sitting in silence. “Is this what you do all day?” Baker asked.
“What?” Kai said.
“I mean, sit here, alone,” they replied. “Don’t you ever get lonely?”
“I enjoy the quiet.”
Baker sat up, staring at Kai with an odd look on their face. “You are seriously so weird,” they said. Kai scoffed. “I need to set you up with someone. You need to go on a date.”
Kai shot up too fast. “No,” he said, “you do not.”
“Yes!” Baker exclaimed, pulling their phone from their back pocket. Their fingers scrolled across the screen, most likely going through their contact list. “This will be great. I have plenty of friends to set you up with.” They scrolled and scrolled some more, biting their bottom lip in concentration. “Maya... Nick... Michael... Kate...” Baker looked up. “Pick your poison.”