The singer screamed fitfully, hoarse vocals scratching a difficult to reach itch in Bailey’s brain. The guitar screeched, the drummer mashed frenzied rhythms. It was a mess but it felt right. It spoke to them. The world was a mess, just like this song. The people that denied that, they were the ones who were crazy. They reached to turn the volume knob on their retro speaker system and found that it was already at the max. Vanessa sat on their bed, looking at her phone, making a face every time the singer hit a particularly ragged note. Bailey stuck their tongue out at her and air guitar’d the solo, making Vanessa roll her eyes.
The two friends de-stressed in very different ways, Bailey mused. But Vanessa was the one who had invited herself over, so she could deal. Despite that sentiment, when the song was over, Bailey turned off the speakers with a custom hand-wave. Vanessa raised her eyebrows at that.
Bailey smirked. “It’s custom,” they said proudly.
“It’s creepy,” Vanessa retorted. “Do you have to hack everything in your life?”
“Yes,” they said and plopped onto the bed next to Vanessa. “It’s how I make my mark.”
Vanessa made another face. “How very patriarchal of you. Can’t just live. Gotta mark things like a dog.”
“Speaking of dogs, just roll over and die already, Vanessa.”
“Ugh, I wish. But the bank from these jobs just has to be spent before I pass from this mortal coil,” she said dramatically, putting the back of her hand to her forehead. She tilted her head at B. “Speaking of which, what are you spending your illegal gains on?”
“Reinvestment. I’m getting a new drone.”
“Despite us having a Peep that can do that for us, but invisibly and without sound?” Vanessa asked, sickly sweet.
“AJ can’t bounce a signal.”
“Let’s give him another dose of Dice. I bet he’ll sprout a satellite dish or something.”
“You tease him too much. He’s just a kid.”
“A kid with super powers! C’mon, you know I’d be peeping in all the change rooms if I had his power. Lucky little gremlin.”
“All of them?” Bailey asked.
“All of them,” Vanessa replied haughtily.
“Then you roll the Dice.”
“Ugh, and risk having to actually do work? No chance.”
“You’re sure that’s the only reason?”
“I don’t think you understand, B,” she formed her words slowly as if explaining to a child. “Super. Powers. What’s not to like?”
—
Zola’s insides spasmed. Bile and spit dripped from his lips as he struggled to breathe between the dry heaves. His nails dug into the sides of the toilet seat, leaving visible marks that joined the others, giving the impression that a wild animal frequented his bathroom. Zola forced himself to relax and let go of the seat. The spasms were subsiding. He wished they would come back and leave him perpetually in this state, not having to think, just experiencing a loop. He found his head rising despite himself. He turned towards the shower curtains. But it was delaying the inevitable. He had to look. His head slowly turned to face his reflection that was not his own.
Uneven eyes. A nose with gargantuan nostrils. Wispy hair, he suspected already balding. Terrible nails.
Fat.
Fat.
And a smile that he couldn’t show anyone. A monster’s smile, with teeth that were just a little bit off. But Zola knew they were off. Disgusting.
Tears welled in his eyes. Hands crept up to each arm. It was too easy. At least when he’d had to find a knife he could sometimes control himself. The nails dragged downwards, leaving blossoming red streaks on his biceps. He watched the red drip from the elbows of that monster in the mirror.
Anything was a welcome distraction. Even pain.
—
Small bits of metal clinked together softly on the hospital bed. The firing pin was now disassembled. Richard turned to the rest of the gun waiting to be taken apart, removing the sub-frame of the trigger with practiced ease.
“Richard,” her voice said softly.
Richard examined the gun parts on the bed for wear. He rolled them around with steady fingers, then flinched when a gentle hand touched his.
“Richard. Stop. Not in the hospital.”
“I can’t stop now. Gotta put it back together,” he replied. Richard knew he was speaking gruffly to the only woman he loved, but he couldn’t help it, it was the only way he knew.
“Hey. Look at me.”
Richard began putting the firing pin back together.
“Richard.”
Richard glanced upwards briefly, looking into her eyes. Two pools of love. He’d read that in a book once. Two pools of love that were dying. The pressure became too much and he returned his attention to the gun. The pieces of metal slid together with a satisfying click. Simple and clean. Richard appreciated the things in life that were simple. Those were the things he could turn to when other things became heavy and tangled.
He knew. And knowing was too much to bear. One phone call, or even a text. Money exchanged. Money that he had plenty of. A single vial taken and used. Then the cancer would be gone.
She would say no. A small voice in the back of his head spoke with utmost certainty.
But he couldn’t listen to it, so instead he drowned it out with anger. That kind of redirection felt good. Those who took Dice were selfish cowards who couldn’t handle life. They couldn’t handle being human.
His vitriol towards those people felt good. It felt vindicating in a way.
Dice wasn’t an option. Richard was made of stronger stuff than that. Hands shook as he held his gun in one hand and his wife’s hand in the other. Richard was no coward. He would face life with a stiff upper lip.
—
“How’s the fish?”
The woman coughed gently.
Terry’s smile returned to his face. Where had it gone? “I’m so sorry. You caught me daydreaming. What did you ask, dear?”
The pretty blonde smiled demurely. “How’s the fish?”
Terry looked down at his plate, the meat in question garnished with lemon juice and herbs. He took a bite. He showed his enjoyment visibly on his face. “Delicious. Try some.” Terry held his scarf in place as he lifted the fork up, a juicy bit of salmon on the end.
The woman opened her mouth and accepted the piece. She chewed it thoughtfully. Her eyes lit up. “Oh! Oh wow. This is amazing!”
Terry smiled easily. “I told you this place was a hidden gem.”
She raised her hands in surrender. “I will freely admit it. You win.”
Terry blinked. “I what?”
“You win. I foolishly challenged the master thinking I had this town’s culinary attractions figured out.”
“Remind me what the conditions of our bet were.”
She was blushing. “What, so you can rub it in?”
Terry readjusted his scarf. “Remind me.”
She eyed him a touch strangely. “A night out with me.”
“Oh. And how could I forget such a bet? I suppose it’s because I already won long before this moment.”
The woman laughed. “Of course. How could I possibly have thought I could win an argument against you?”
Terry’s smile faltered in a way that only he would notice. “I meant that every moment I spend with you is a victory. Your beauty is reward enough.”
“Terry, you are such a flirt!” She smiled and held his eyes for a long moment.
Options spread out before Terry. He considered them idly. Some days off were akin to a daydream, walking without purpose.
Something irked him. What was her name? He didn’t forget names. It was what he was good at. Was this daydream dulling his thoughts? And here he was thinking he was using his talents to keep them sharp. Was that why he was here? Was that the only reason?
What was her name?
Terry leaned across the table towards her. He held a hand to his scarf as he whispered gently, “Kiss me.”
She did.
—
The gap between the door and the frame seemed to stretch indefinitely into an endless space, impossible to fill. How long had AJ been standing here, trying to close this door without making a micro-blip of noise?
Do it. A hero could do this. AJ was a hero. Well, he was gonna be, when he got older. So he had to start walking the walk and talking the talk. He summoned the power of the stars and closed the infinite void. The click of the latch locking into place was imperceptible to human ears. He was sure of it.
AJ could hear the noise of the TV. People laughing. He could never hear what they were laughing about. He suspected they were laughing at him. Laughing at him for trying.
The flickering light of the TV lit up the hallway. His destination was at the end, a staircase that ascended to a lockable door. Just before the stairs, the hallway opened up to a living room.
AJ hiked up his backpack and took a step down the hallway. He knew the spots that made the least noise. Stealthily, like a ninja. He was good at being quiet. Step by step he got closer to the stairs.
At the corner of the hallway, just before he crossed in front of the living room, he caught his first potent whiff. It permeated the entire house, but this was different. It was the breath of the dragon, except instead of brimstone, it was wine. AJ’s head began to drift. The smell made him retreat inside, where he could only see his eyeholes but nothing out of them.
AJ shook himself. This was exactly the time for heroism. AJ was scared. His heart beat too quickly. But the hero, Ajna. He was not afraid. He could do it.
AJ crossed quickly, resisting the urge to sprint to the stairs.
“AJ?” a voice slurred. “Come here.”
AJ could not hear her. He had plummeted, fallen, into a deep dark place. At least here, he could not smell the alcohol. Ajna took his place and moved around the couch, over to his mother’s side.
His mother asked him if he had money for her. He nodded and got his earnings out of his bag. Ajna earned this for her, to keep the family afloat. When his mother saw the money, she wrapped her arms around Ajna and drew him in close. Warm breath coasted across his hair. But AJ couldn’t feel it. The TV laughed and laughed at him, but AJ couldn’t hear it. He sat on his mother’s lap, watching the TV, but he couldn’t see anything on it.
AJ spoke to himself in that deep, dark pit. You are a hero.