Rose
“Are you sure you don’t want to spend your birthday doing something else?” Abel asks as we enter the costume store.
Our hands swing easily beside each other and he catches the ends of my fingers in his.
“I was kinda hoping I could have you all to myself,” he says.
But I see the nervousness in his eyes and the way he glances around. I see his fear and I let him hold onto me in a way that will calm him.
Because I am not the thing that calms him.
I am the thing that makes him feel.
We peruse through the racks and Abel stops short.
He’s staring at what’s been dubbed “Accessories” and his eyes are on the artificial blood. Bags and vials of it.
The vial before me makes my lips twitch.
Abel’s fingers press into my shoulder as if he’s caught it. “I bet blood makes you so fucking happy.”
I wouldn’t say happy . Maybe something slightly less jovial-sounding. I tap the edge of the plastic that holds the vial inside and watch as it swings back and forth. When I glance at him, I don’t see anything other than curiosity in his eyes. With a hint of lust.
And to think, any other man would likely run.
“Both the color and consistency are off. But I suppose so.” I turn to walk in front of him toward another section of the store when his right hand catches me, barring my abdomen from leading me away.
“Know what makes me happy?” he asks, his voice lowered to a whisper but potent enough that he could be speaking directly into my brain.
I glance at him as I lick at the corner of my mouth, slower than I would otherwise. His eyes drop to my lips and I shrug.
“The idea that I could take you into that dressing room over there, cover your mouth with my hand and catch all the noises you make as I fuck you,” he murmurs.
It’s as if my heart and my feet have somehow been introduced; as if my heart belongs at the soles of my boots whenever he talks to me like this. I dissect his words as his stare keeps me from pushing away from him.
“Is that what you did?” I whisper, my cheeks hot from the blush I’m sure I’m wearing. “You fucked me?”
The humor drops from his face and his eyes dart back and forth between mine for a moment. “I mean…”
“What’s the difference between fucking and making love?” By now my voice has resumed its natural conversation volume and Abel glances around to see if anyone has heard me.
“With us? Nothing.”
“Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear, Abel.”
His Adam’s apple bobs and annoyance shifts his features until he’s frowning.
I step out of his reach and move past him to continue searching.
“So, Halloween is in a few days and, what? You’re going to find George and off him like some kinda cheesy horror flick?” Abel’s voice is quiet as he follows after me.
“Exactly.”
People say that Halloween thins the veil between the living and the dead. All I want is to send someone through that veil, to the land of the dead where they belong. Sure, I don’t subscribe to these notions. But it’s entertaining to play along.
The nearly nonexistent Halloween costumes stare back at me, as if the women modeling them are asking me what I’m doing here. I remember versions of these, distorted in my memories but covering a significant amount of skin. Still, the girls in my school had teetered dangerously on the edge of decency. And some threw decency out the window, happy to show off their bodies.
These costumes, in their cheap plastic covers, have Abel silent beside me.
I see a particular costume has his attention and I reach for it with a grin. “An angel?” I ask. “Perhaps you have no idea who you’re dealing with here.”
He snorts and grabs the costume from me. “I always heard Lucifer was beautiful.” He puts the costume back on the rack with the others. “I never really got it until I met you.”
My fingers graze the backs of his hands as he leans in to press a kiss to my cheek.
“I wonder what your mami would think of you saying that,” I respond.
Abel’s eyes shift just past me before he blinks and is with me once more. He does that often, checking out and returning as if nothing happened.
More people have started coming in, and he pulls me close, against his body. It’s like he’s shielding me from them. Protecting me. But I know better. I know it’s the other way around.
“If I’m Lucifer, who are you?” I know we aren’t alone. I can almost feel eyes skating over us but standing here with Abel makes it feel like that isn’t the case. Like we’re somewhere private where he could swallow me whole and carry me around forever.
“Just another sinner, I guess. Who fucking knows?” he says, shrugging.
And I follow him as he steps away. I don’t need to think about it. My feet move because my body can no longer stand the idea of not being next to his. “And what costume would a sinner wear?”
Abel stops abruptly in front of me and I have to reach out and grab his arms, so I don’t knock into him.
“What is it?” I’m peering around him just as he turns his head to smile at me.
“I think I found your costume.”
George isn’t intelligent by any standard. His areas of expertise are taking advantage of malleable young women, narcotics distribution, and how to get away with both, if watching him walk inside with bloodshot eyes and a girl who looks like she’s still in high school on his arm tells me anything.
I’m not sure what Grace would be doing around someone like him but I’m trying not to judge. It’s difficult but I’m trying.
I’m no one’s victim. I refuse to be. But my little sister isn’t like me, so I have to be the one to make things right.
I know Cassandra is having her annual Halloween party. I’ve passed her house a few times already and I saw kegs being brought in and decorations being hung. I’m itching for night to fall. Itching for Abel to get what he so badly wants. What he’s wanted since we escaped Silverwing: to get as far away from here as possible.
I’m sitting in my mother’s Mercedes, across the street from George’s house. There were rumors before I went away about his family. About his father losing their fortune. The fact that George still drives the same Jeep supports those rumors. Families around here often compete with one another; from the latest cars to the newest appliances, even down to their extra-marital activities.
For men and women who are mostly CEOs and somehow created their own fortunes, their behavior is absolute filth. Because once you mix money and the idea of living a consequence-free life, people turn into monsters worse than even me . And don’t even get me started on the few “old money” families in this area.
Just as I turn the key in the ignition, George steps out of the house. The same woman he walked in with an hour prior trails behind him, her clothes rumpled and her brown hair messy. It makes me sick to my stomach to see how easily he lives while Grace is dead. He ruined her, and he gets to slap this girl’s bottom before she gets in her car and drives away. These thoughts make me want to drive this car up his lawn and right into him. Then reverse and do it again and again until he’s unrecognizable.
But that’s not the plan. No.
The plan is to wait outside the party until it’s in full swing. I can just feel the muggy heat of warm bodies, elbow to elbow, as I push my way through to him. These people will stand around as I approach George. I’ll attempt to appeal to his libido until I’m close enough to reveal his fate.
“Don’t you remember me?” I’ll ask him. Because he is of mediocre brain capacity, he’ll think we’ve slept together at some point. But no, George. I am not one of your sex dolls.
“Are my eyes familiar?” I’ll ask him when he hasn’t figured out who I am. Everyone always said Grace and I had the same eyes. Our father’s eyes.
And before I kill him, I’ll make sure he knows why this is happening, as I crush his offending sexual organ in my fist. I’ll even let him kiss the cool metal before the first bullet leaves the chamber. Kiss the device that’ll bring your death. Usher in your end with good faith and a sweet kiss.
He’ll get three bullets.
One in the stomach for making me sick to mine.
One in the face for being such a liar.
And one in his groin for raping my little sister.
A hand slides over mine, where I’m still holding the keys in the ignition. Abel attempts to steal my attention as George scratches his genitalia.
“I’m almost done,” I say.
“What’s the plan?” He’s such a force in the passenger seat, but I can’t look away.
“Exactly what I figured it would be. These people, they’re such a bore. The monotony, nothing ever changes. Even after all this time.”
My mother didn’t change. George didn’t either. It’s like they’re inviting their fates into their lives, leaving a welcome mat out for their doom.
“This is why we need to fucking leave,” Abel answers with an edge in his tone.
I finally look at him, and he takes a moment to grab my face with one hand and kiss me, his tongue and teeth working magically.
And in this moment, I agree. I agree so soundly that I nearly tell him to pack our things, so we can leave now.
But I look at George again and I know. It would be impossible to leave him breathing.
“Let’s go,” I tell Abel as I pull out of the parking spot.
George stares at me, I can feel his gaze burning into the side of my face. But I don’t give him the satisfaction of my eyes.
I’m in a car he knows, and I look a lot like someone he once knew.
But I won’t give him the satisfaction of being something other than a ghost.
For now, anyway.