by Loretta Lost
I am growing lightheaded, and I should probably call an ambulance. But I somehow feel like I need to know her more than I need a blood transfusion and stitches. “Who are you?” I ask her hoarsely.
“I’m a killer, Cole. I’m the crack running through her mind. I’ll show up every time she needs me; every time she’s pushed so hard that she breaks.” She lifts one of her hands to my cheek, and places her bloody fingers against my temple. Her fingers lightly brush against my hair as she stares deep into my soul, absorbing the data from every secret corner
“So if you ever want me,” she whispers. “Just break me. And I’m yours.”
Her hand slides into my hair as her lips crash against mine, in a salty kiss of ash and smoke. The kiss drowns out my whole world, until I feel like reality is but a dream. I no longer exist. I am drowning in her, even while the fire continues to burn and cackle near us. We need to get out of here. I am bleeding, and the house is burning, but there is simply nothing more important than her lips.
She is crazy. By her own admission, she is cracked, and she is completely insane.
And somehow, this is the moment when I become certain that I am completely in love with her. I have sensed this before, this person lingering beneath the surface. I never knew she existed, but I felt her. I thought I saw a shadow of her, inside Scarlett’s blue eyes. They were so clear, and so cloudy at the same time. There had to be more than she was revealing.
And now I see.
She’s a murderer. She saved my life. She is strong. She is soft. So soft that she needed to break herself in half to save her softness from ruin. I wish I could have protected her from everything that life has thrown at her, but it seems she’s found a way to protect herself. And that means I really will never lose her.
She isn’t fragile glass; she is fire-forged steel.
I kiss her back, zealously. If I am about to bleed to death, I want to spend my last few minutes in her arms. I hold her body close, ignoring all my pain and injuries to pull her against me. I cling to her desperately, ignoring the fire that is closing in on us. I don’t even care if we both burn to death here, tonight. It would all be worth it for this kiss.
Knowing this side of her doesn’t scare me. It only enchants me deeper. I loved her because of this, before I even knew of this—because it’s something that exists inside me too. In some of those nightmares that won’t let me sleep? This is the person I become in those nightmares. I become desperate and capable of anything. I become unafraid. I feel like she is the missing part of me—the part I have always needed, to become whole.
I can feel it in her kiss. I suppose she kissed me once before, when I got her the laptop. Or maybe twice before, if you count that brush of our lips under the bleachers. But she was hesitant, tentative, cautious. She was sweet, childlike, innocent. She was afraid.
Now, she’s an entirely different person. I’ve never been kissed like this before. By a girl who has absolutely no fear of anything. No fear of death, of fire, of pain. She is unreal.
She’s all woman and power. She is larger than life, and I know that I will never let her go.
Tonight, she killed for me. I’ll always be willing to do the same for her.
A noise from the side distracts me, and I realize that my thoughts may have been a little premature. Professor Brown has risen to his feet, and he looks monstrous; his clothes are aflame, and his face is smashed in beyond recognition, and he lets out a roar that is inhuman. There are flames behind him, from where the log fell, and they are making him look like he has a blazing aura of power, and he is about to destroy us both. My first instinct is to cover Scarlet’s body with my own, protectively.
But that won’t get us anywhere. At this point, it’s kill or be killed.
Rising to my feet shakily, I run over to the fireplace and grab one of the iron pokers. But when I turn around, my heart leaps into my throat. I see that the professor has gone after Scarlett instead of me. She rises to her feet, standing only in her underwear, but she looks so ready for his attack that she might as well be wearing battle armor. Her naked skin is covered in my blood, which is dripping down her stomach, and resembling war paint. Mr. Brown has almost reached her when I lift my iron poker and rush toward them, but before I can land a blow, Scarlett lunges forward.
Her hand darts out violently and I hear him scream.
It takes me a moment to realize that she has shoved her index finger into his eyeball. She used his own momentum to impale his skull on her hand. The horror of this is not lost on me, and I recoil slightly from the sight. However, I am more focused on her safety, and actually making sure this man is dead. So I raise the iron poker, and reach out to smash him over the head.
He is moving, so I miss and get him in the shoulder. The man bellows in rage, but he ignores this as he strikes out at Scarlett again. His fist gets her in the side of the face, and she stumbles backward. He pursues her, but she twists her body around and leaps on him, grabbing his head and sinking her teeth into his neck. She rips out a chunk of his flesh like a wild animal, while the man throws back his head and screams, trying to push her off.
My mouth goes very dry at the sight of a man’s neck between Scarlett’s teeth, but I focus on the situation—Mr. Brown’s clothes are still on fire, and she has none. I smash the iron poker into his back, before reaching out to shove myself between him and Scarlett. When I am sure that she is away from him, I turn around and swing the iron poker down into his head, like a sword. He finally falls, crumpling into a heap on the floor. But I am not taking any chances. I lift the poker and use my entire body weight to bring it down forcefully again.
And then again.
And then again.
The feeling of his skull caving in is satisfying. The man’s whole body quakes and quivers, like an insect dying. I swing again, and again. I don’t intend to stop until I see brain matter spilling out
“Cole!” Scarlett shouts at me, grabbing my arm. “You’re injured. That’s enough! We need to get out of here.”
I see her quickly rubbing something on herself, and I look at her in confusion.
“We can say that he sexually abused me,” she explains, showing me the piece of flesh from Mr. Brown’s neck that she has been rubbing on her underwear. “I have enough… damage, in that area, from Benjamin. They should believe me.”
“Blame his death entirely on me,” I say firmly, grabbing her hand. “I’m going to take the fall for this. We’ll say it was self-defense. He did stab me.”
“More evidence never hurts,” she says with narrowed eyes. “Believe me.”
“Come on,” I tell her, coughing as the fire closes in around us. “We have to leave. Now!”
“Wait!” she says, looking toward the library sofa in panic. “My laptop! I have to get my laptop.”
“No! The fire is spreading too fast.”
“I need it, Cole. You got it for me.”
When she begins moving into the flames, I find myself reaching out to grab her. I wrap my arms around her midsection tightly, beneath her naked breasts.
“Let go!” she says, struggling against me. “I need that computer! Cole!”
“I’ll get you another,” I promise. “Come on. I’m bleeding a lot, and if you keep struggling like this, I’m going to pass out, and you’re going to have to drag me out of here.”
She abruptly stops fighting, but as soon as I let go of her, she lunges forward, heading into the flames. I anticipated this, since she doesn’t feel fear or care about getting burned, and I grab her arm just in time, slamming my other hand into the back of her head and knocking her unconscious.
I reach out to catch her as her body slumps. Lifting her limp body into my arms, I grunt in pain as I walk out of the library. I hear the sound of sirens in the distance, and this is comforting. Maybe I will survive this after all. Scarlett stirs slightly after a few steps, so I must not have hit her as hard as I thought.
“Cole?” she mumbles, clearly dizzy from the blow. “Oh
god, it hurts.” She moans and grasps a handful of my shirt, and is startled to find it soaked with blood. “Cole! What’s happening?”
“You feel the pain?” I ask her softly. Her voice has returned to normal.
“My legs,” she says with a gasp. “Cole, you’re bleeding!”
“I’ll be fine,” I assure her, although I am assured of no such thing.
“And why am I naked?” she asks feebly, putting a hand over her breasts. “Oh my god, my head hurts.”
“Just get some rest,” I tell her, leaning down to place a kiss against her forehead. “The danger is over now. Mr. Brown is dead.”
“What?” she gasps. “How?”
“I killed him.”
She lifts her fingers to touch my chin, but her hand falls limply to her side. “Cole,” she says, as tears gather in her eyes. “What’s going to happen now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Please,” she says softly, before letting her head roll against my chest. “Cole…”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t ever leave me.”
“I won’t. Promise.”
She falls asleep in my arms as I walk, and I see Mrs. Brown standing in the darkened kitchen and staring at us.
“You killed my husband?” she asks in a dark voice. “You killed Jeremiah.”
“Yeah,” I say, as I walk past her, holding Scarlett close protectively. “You’re welcome.”
My knees begin to buckle under me as I walk, and I know I haven’t got much left in me. But I manage to get Scarlett outside of the house, and I see the paramedics running toward us before I let myself completely collapse to my knees.
“Help her!” I tell the paramedic who is rushing to my side with a stretcher, and gently taking Scarlett out of my arms. “She’s badly burned.” The moment her warmth leaves my chest, I find my upper body crashing roughly to the gravel driveway.
The world spins around me. Somehow, I know that I have survived once again.
Holding a lighter in my hand, I use my thumb to roughly spin the wheel and jab the button so that the fluid inside catches fire. A little flame ignites at the opening with a poof sound, and I watch it wavering for several seconds before I release the button and let it die.
I perform this motion again, and again, staring at the little flame.
Fire never really bothered me, but I still remember the look in Cole’s eyes whenever he caught sight of the tiniest spark. If he walked into the room even now, and saw this lighter in my hand, he would pause for a moment and grow serious and contemplative. Cole wasn’t afraid of much in this world, but the sight of fire always made him hesitate.
Playing with the lighter is just a distraction. Zack’s computer is sitting in my bag just a few feet away, and calling to me. I have the strong urge to turn it on and dig up more information about Cole—especially that hospital footage. But I know that if I get started, I’ll be up all night, and I might be too tired to attend the funeral. I already have dark circles under my eyes, and trouble keeping them open.
So I flick the lighter closed. And open.
I often think back to the night that our last foster home burned down. I don’t remember everything that happened, other than Professor Brown choking me and Cole trying to make him stop. I don’t know exactly how the fire started, other than what Cole told me later. I must have blacked out, because I only remember waking up in his arms, burned and confused. I remember those few days we spent in the hospital, and how badly Cole was injured. They had to give him so much blood.
It was all my fault, wasn’t it?
Cole had already been through enough, but because of me, he had to suffer even more. He had to kill the professor to protect me, and go to prison for it. The fire that took his parents had already been giving him nightmares for years—but being stabbed and needing to bludgeon a man to death? That sort of thing will wreak havoc on a young boy’s mind. It’s a wonder he didn’t need more therapy.
The look on Mrs. Brown’s face at the trial still haunts me. She hated us so much.
Tossing the lighter aside, I fall back onto the bed. I have already brushed my teeth and peeled off my jeans, and I just want to crash. I am tired as hell after the flight and emotionally jetlagged from this crazy day. My body is here, in this time zone where Cole no longer exists, but my mind is trapped in several years ago, when we were inseparable. All my muscles are limp with exhaustion, but my thoughts are racing with a jumble of memories and questions.
When I really try to think of all the people who would want to hurt my brother, it’s a little staggering. Cole didn’t really go through life causing or seeking trouble, so I have no idea how he made so many enemies. To be fair, I suppose, many of his enemies were originally mine.
My eyes are closing when the phone beside my bed rings, causing me to sit up abruptly. I reach to the side and answer it, trying to think of who would be calling.
“Hello?” I say, fighting back a yawn.
A familiar woman’s voice filters through the receiver. “Agent Shields.”
“Shit,” I curse, leaping off the bed and blinking the sleep out of my eyes. “How did you find me?” The question is stupid. I am upset at myself before the words have even finished leaving my mouth, but I am too tired to form any other sentences.
The woman laughs; a musical laugh. “Well, isn’t it obvious? We had someone who actually came in to work today do it. Your colleagues were very excited for the opportunity to pry into your personal life.”
Looking around sheepishly, I place a hand in my hair. I try to remember my recent credit card transactions, and whether there was anything embarrassing on there that they could gossip about in the office. No, I didn’t use my credit card to check into the hotel. They must have traced Zack’s phone and financials. I bet he just made a purchase downstairs at the gift shop—a midnight snack, most likely.
“Sophie, I want you to know that we’re all a little concerned. There was some airport security footage of you using a computer in a very public location. You know that your contract prohibits…”
“I don’t care, Luciana. You can fire me if you want.”
“Yes, well, maybe it’s about time we revised your contract. You’re not a little girl anymore, and you’re not going around and stealing sports cars and drawing attention to yourself.”
“I never stole a sports car. There is no conclusive evidence that I ever stole a sports car.”
My boss sighs. “Sophie, we know about your brother, and it’s totally understandable that you need some time off. We all know how close you were.”
“It’s not a big deal,” I say stubbornly. “Did you ever think that maybe I just came to Cali for the sun?”
“Will you just stop? We have your personnel files, Sophie. We know that your foster brother went to prison protecting you from abuse when he was fifteen years old. We know that you hacked into that prison to get him out so he could study architecture at MIT.”
“I never hacked into a prison,” I tell my boss. “I don’t know where you’re getting all this, but…”
“Shut the fuck up, Sophie. I hired you because of all that crazy shit you did, and how loyal you are. You may not talk about your past or private life, but we all care about you, okay? I care about you. So just take all the time you need, and be careful out there. Give me a phone call if you need any help. You have friends here at the agency.”
Her kindness makes me pause. “You’re not firing me, Lopez?”
“No! Why would I fire you? So that you can go and work for the FBI or Homeland Security? I know they have been trying to recruit you for years. You’re the best we’ve got, Shields. I’m… sorry if I’m hard on you, sometimes.”
A sad smile settles on my face. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
“Just don’t kill anyone? Okay? When you find out who is responsible…”
“I’ll try my best,” I say softly as an image of Benjamin comes to my mind.
“You’re not a field age
nt, Shields. You don’t have all the required training…” Luciana sighs. “Look, just access Zack’s cell phone, okay? I will send you the coordinates of someone who can hook you up with a gun, and some other equipment you might need for your personal protection.”
I am surprised. “Are you allowed to do that?”
“Protect my agents? I’m supposed to do that.”
“Thank you, Lucy.” I pause, shaking my head. “You’re… awesome.”
“You have no idea how awesome! Hey—I know you’re upset at Zack. Don’t ask how I know. But keep him around until this blows over, okay? You shouldn’t be alone right now. I’ll hook him up with a gun, too, since he has advanced weapons training.”
“That sounds good. Hey, Lopez? When I get back, your morning mocha lattes are on me, for like, a year.”
“How about my evening chardonnay? It would be nice to actually hang out with you after work sometime, and talk. Especially after a hard day. There aren’t many other women in our department, and it would be nice to vent about all the shit I have to deal with.”
“Okay,” I tell her with a grin. “In the future, I will be less of an antisocial asshole and buy my boss drinks after work.”
“Good. Take care of yourself, Agent Shields.”
“You too, Lopez.”
When I place the hotel phone back down into its receiver, I look out at the curtains thoughtfully. Maybe I have had friends all along, and just never really noticed. I never imagined that anyone would have my back or be there for me in a disaster like this. But I never imagined a disaster like this.
Lying back on the hotel bed, I wrap my hands around my middle. Warm and fuzzy feelings swirl around in my stomach, and I think this must be gratitude. Being away from Cole made me really closed off to the world, but losing him again, in such a final and terrible way, is somehow opening me up to people again. It’s easy to get through each day alone, putting up walls around myself, but when something like this happens… the walls come down. The truth comes out.
It’s times like these when you realize that you need people—and that certain people have been there all along. You just needed to stop shutting doors in their faces.