Chapter 4 #2
The wound in his chest close enough to his heart to ensure certain death but far enough to ensure he would feel every second his lungs filled with blood.
The only man left standing, the one who’d hit her, stood frozen beside his friend’s body, a look of horror plastered on his face.
Thick silence filled the alley.
Joy blinked and paused for a moment, then another.
When no commotion was made and no one came to see about the gun shots, she stepped closer.
Her high heels clicked against the ground. The muffled thump of music hit her ears and her steps unconsciously synced with the fast paced beat coming from inside the club.
The familiar coppery tang of spilled blood invaded her nostrils when she approached the man and she paused.
“What’s your name?” Joy asked sweetly.
“P-Perry,” the man stammered. Joy would give it to him, he did his best to appear stoic but Joy saw the fear. She had a sixth sense for it, and could always recognize it.
“Well Perry,” Joy started, pulling the pair of gold brass knuckles from her clutch then throwing the bag aside. “I’ll make you a deal. If you can whoop my ass, I’ll let you live.”
“What?” he gawked.
“You seem to like to prey on women who can’t defend themselves. That’s some pussy shit to me and pussy niggas dont get to live where I come from. But if you can whoop my ass and prove me wrong, you won’t join your friend in hell.”
“You gotta be fucking kidding,” he chuckled. The fear he’d had a moment ago was replaced with disdain. For her. For the woman he’d almost violated.
That wouldn’t do.
Joy lifted her gun and pointed it at the man. She cocked it, depositing a bullet into the chamber then aimed at his head. “Fight me or I’ll loosen your brain from your skull.”
He chuckled and flicked his nose with his thumb. His demeanor was the picture of arrogance but the fear was evident in his eyes.
“Aight come on crazy bitch,” he laughed, then swung.
The hit was sloppy, adrenaline and his party favors impairing his movements.
Joy effortlessly ducked under his arm and sent an uppercut to his jaw.
He landed a punch to her stomach and in return, Joy sent her heel into his groin knocking him down a few inches onto his knees.
This was always the best part.
When they realized that their prey was really a predator. When fear and apprehension replaced the bravado and arrogance men had when their opposition was a woman. That moment when they realized that they’d been fooled by the stilettos and jewels.
Her blood sang from the power she felt. Part of her said she should stop. That she’d made her point and she should shoot him and leave. But she wanted to play.
She sent blow after blow to his face. Bone slamming against bone. Skin breaking and blood flying with each swing until the only way to identify him was by his teeth or fingerprints. Until he was only a few breaths away from the afterlife he deserved.
“Piece of shit,” Joy spat.
After several deep breaths, Joy’s breathing slowed and her vision cleared, becoming present in her body once again.
She turned, seeing the woman sitting on the concrete with her knees to her chest, staring on in horror.
Joy took a step towards her, panic rising at the thought of accidentally hurting her. A quick sweep of the woman’s appearance revealed no harm, letting Joy relax a bit.
The relief was short-lived.
The moment Joy stepped in the woman’s direction, she frantically scooted back, scrambling away like she’d seen a monster.
“Stay away from me,” the woman sobbed, getting up onto her wobbly feet to back away.
“I’m not gonna hurt y–.” Joy’s reassurance was cut off when the girl ran in the opposite direction.
A familiar pang hit Joy in the chest watching the woman run away from her. It settled deep within her, creating a kind of bone-deep sadness that made her want to weep.
Instead, she stepped over the bodies and used her hair clip to pick the lock to the back door and slip back inside.
Careful to avoid any eyes, she slipped into the women’s bathroom, ensuring the stalls were empty, then locked the door behind her.
She rested her head against the door and heaved a deep sigh. Her eyes burned with tears she wouldn’t set free. She felt lethargic and heavy, like she’d binged when she told herself she’d only have a bite. Rejection slammed into her making her whole body ache.
Once the desire to cry no longer overwhelmed her, she made her way to the sink, turning the water nozzle as hot as it would go. She washed her hands, watching the blood on her knuckles run down the drain then wet a paper towel to clean her face.
The moment she found her reflection in the mirror, she huffed out a sharp breath. Shame crept up her throat at the sight.
Blood splattered her perfectly painted face and her lipstick was smudged. She looked crazed and dangerous. She looked every bit of the monster they labeled her as – the monster they made her.
“Ms. Thibodeaux you have an abnormal case of psychogenic blackouts. This disorder causes a loss of consciousness triggered by psychological stress, intense anger, or fear. In most cases, these blackouts happen in the form of fainting or seizing but your body doesn’t do that.
It fights for you. Essentially, your mind shuts down and your body takes over, protecting you through violence.
That’s why you experience intense headaches and memory loss after you have an…
episode. You have been half unconscious for the duration of your spell.
Can you tell me if you ever get lightheaded or blurry vision before you blackout? ”
Joy blinked at the doctor slowly. She was hearing her words but they weren't registering.
Blackouts? Episodes?
She’d been trained to endure combat and come out the victor regardless of her opponent.
Learned to evade police and enemies. To suppress emotions that would cloud her judgement.
Desensitized to taking lives if necessary.
She’d acquired a reputation of being cold, calculating and feared.
To now be sitting in front of this psychiatrist and being told that her mind was working against her had her in a panic.
But most of all, it made her angry. She’d become all of those things, learned all of those things, done all of those things because of him.
This was all his doing. A consequence of pushing his weapon too far without maintenance causing it to jam and misfire.
But instead of cleaning it off and firing again, he sent it off to be melted down and picked up a new one.
Joy sighed.
She’d run from her too.
A fleeting thought popped into her head and she wondered if she’d ever get back to normal. If anyone would ever look at her with anything other than disgust, fear, and pity again. She pushed those thoughts aside. She had no choice.
When she finished cleaning her face and fixing up her appearance as best she could, she walked out the restroom and back to the table.
She pasted a smile back onto her face but the muscles took much more coaxing to complete the act than before.
“Sorry, there was a line,” she said once she’d approached. “Y’all ready?”
Mel’s three friends expressed they were ready and Mel agreed. The five of them left the restaurant and headed in the direction of the club’s entrance.
“You good?” Mel asked in Joy’s ear when they fell behind the rest of the group. Concern laced her voice and furrowed her brows as she noticed Joy’s now melancholy energy.
“I’m good,” Joy said. She offered up the lie Mel needed to hear and as the words left her lips, she prayed that it would someday be true.
Mel stared at her a moment longer but whatever she saw made her drop it.
Conversation flowed around Joy as they moved to their next destination but she barely registered what was being said. Her ears felt like she was underwater and a migraine was beginning to set in — clear signs that she’d once again lost control.
She chased after the happiness she’d had not even thirty minutes ago but a heaviness settled over her instead like a lead fog.
Joy fought to remain present as they walked through the packed club bathed in shades of blue, an homage to the club’s name. She made a beeline for the bar, mumbling her intention to Mel, then found the spot she planned to occupy until it was time to go.
She was no longer in a dancing mood.
“What can I get you, beautiful?” The pretty bartender asked once Joy was seated.
“Bourbon, please,” Joy requested with a sigh.
“Sure. Top shelf or bottom?”
“Top,” Joy answered.
She left briefly then returned with a hefty glass of Joy’s liquor of choice. She thanked her then watched as the woman left to tend to other customers.
She hazarded a glance at herself in the reflective glass behind the bar and sighed before taking a deep swig.
“So much for a rebirth.”
Joy was only able to last a few moments before she felt the overwhelming desire to flee. To be alone.
She remembered a sign in the stairwell pointing to the roof. Joy decided that would be the perfect place to get some solitude.
She took her phone out and sent Mel a text.
Joy: Hey I wasn’t feeling well so I’m going home
Mel: OMG are you okay? I’ll come with you
Joy: No I’m fine, stay with your friends
Joy slipped her phone back into her clutch without waiting for a reply from Mel.
When the bartender had her back turned, Joy swiped the bottle she’d poured from and slipped unnoticed back into the stairwell, her sights set on the roof.