Elastic Heart (16 page)

Where was his goofy face? Where was that ridiculous underbite? Through all the turmoil I heard one thing: laughing. Riley was fucking laughing. I stood from the cliff, rage coursing through me. I grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her to the ledge.

“You think this is fucking funny?” Her smile slid from her face like a wet slug. Her heels slipped on the edge, sending rocks tumbling down. “Tell me what’s so fucking funny, Becca?”

“Calm down, Nami.” Becca’s eyes darted from me and to the cliff I precariously held her to. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” I said, pushing her closer to the edge. “I’m getting rid of the infection in this town. Cut off the necrotizing flesh and eventually it goes away. Maybe I should start with you.” I shook her and more rocks tumbled down. Nausea crept up my throat at the thought that Raskol had tumbled down with them.

Riley swallowed. The laughter in her eyes vanished and was replaced with fear. I didn’t feel victorious like I had thought I would. I didn’t feel joy or relief or anything. I felt pain for Raskol and when she looked at me with fear, I saw myself. I saw myself beneath Morris, utterly terror struck.

Still furious, I let her go.

“Go home, you necrotic cunt.” Riley didn’t wait for me to say it twice. She scrambled away and I heard a car sound seconds later.

Everything was numb. Some of that had to do with the fact that I was now on the ground with snow seeping through my clothes and turning my skin frozen, but most of it had to do with my emotional grid. I had short-circuited.

I stared out at the city that had taken everything from me. The lights twinkled beautifully, but all I saw was necrosis. I officially had nothing left.

Monday

There’s not enough whiskey in the world.

Tuesday

All out of alcohol.

Wednesday

Found some beer in the back of the fridge. Smells funny but it will have to do. Tuesday was miserable. Without alcohol I was up all night thinking of Raskol. The image of his dorky, happy face falling to its death…

I opened the first can of beer.

Thursday

10:00 pm and I’ve stopped throwing up skunked beer. Probably because I ran out of stuff to throw up. It was a nice distraction.

Friday

The ass-print on my couch officially has its own area code.

Saturday

Out of alcohol again. Out of vomit. Either going to sink into my couch and become one through symbiosis, or get even.

I opened up the planner I’d stolen from Riley’s. It had been exactly a week since I’d taken it. The odds of it still being accurate were slim, but it was all I had.

According to the planner, the next day Morris would be at the continental breakfast at a downtown hotel. I shut the book with a new, blacker determination on my mind

Raskol, my rape—it couldn’t all be in vain.

Mitch Morris needed to die.

The thought was crystal clear as I watched him across the street, eating Sunday brunch as if it was any other day. I supposed to him it was any other day, though. He wasn’t battling with crushing grief. His psyche wasn’t sinking into charcoal. He was just eating his goddamn eggs and sausage.

Every Sunday Morris ate brunch with his family. Sunday he took off, because it was the Lord’s day. His election offices were closed, or at least that’s what Morris led you to believe. Morris closed the office on Sunday because he liked to make a show of taking the Lord’s day off. In reality his PR team was always working and so was Becca Riley.

My fingers inadvertently twitched the trigger of my gun at the thought of Riley. I used to think my mission would be complete once Morris was ruined, but now I wasn’t so sure. Morris truly was Hydra. Cut off one head, and another emerged. I glared at him as he shoveled eggs into his mouth. Once he was dead, I would have to cauterize Becca Riley.

Perhaps it wasn’t the most compassionate thing in the world to kill a man in front of his children and wife, but I was through with compassion. I was through with caring. I knew I needed to end this man before his dry rot spread beyond Utah. He was like a fungus that spread with wind; if I didn’t stop him now, he would infect everything.

Raskolnikov was the straw that lit my haystack on fire. I wasn’t going to spend any more time attempting to frame a man as vile as Morris. The most compassionate thing I could do for Salt Lake City was end Morris.

I watched him eat brunch, laughing with his wife and children as he made the salt and pepper dance. Morris had no idea that one building over his forgotten regret sat lurking, waiting. I felt like the nameless shooter perched behind the grassy knoll. In my darkest dreams, assassination had never crossed my mind, yet there I was with my self-defense gun, aiming it at the head of Morris. 

Life really had been turned upside down.

Just as I was about to pull the trigger, a creeping sensation spilled down my spine. I didn’t have to turn around to know I wasn’t alone. I could feel it by the hairs standing on end and by the way every sound suddenly dimmed to nothing.

I was caught.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Law roared, pulling me from the window of the abandoned storefront and throwing me against the decayed walls. Bits of the tiled roof fell on my head on impact.

“None of your business.” I pulled my arm from Law’s grasp, rounding on him before he could respond. “How the hell did you even find me?”

“Why won’t you let me help you?” Law grabbed both my shoulders, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“I don’t need help,” I said, averting my eyes. I struggled to pull free of him, ripping my shoulders from his grasp again. I looked through the window to see Morris and his family getting up from their brunch.
Fuck!
I kicked a loose piece of debris. I’d missed my opening.

“What you don’t need is to go full kamikaze on this!” Law yelled. I glared at him. I’d had enough of him and his righteousness. He had no inkling of what I was going through. He didn’t understand the black quicksand pulling me under. Law saw me like others saw endangered tigers at a zoo. They watched through plexiglass, always safe from danger but close enough to feel like they were doing something.

Grabbing my gun and shoving it into my bag, I attempted to brush past him when he said, “There are other ways to get revenge.”

“True revenge consumes the spirit,” I whispered, eyes trained on the exit.

Law pulled me to him and stroked my cheek. “I won’t let this consume you. Your heart is too beautiful.”

“You know nothing of my heart!” I yelled, pushing off his chest. As I made my way out of the old building I added, “Or what’s left of it.”

“Everything is left of it, it’s just a little shadowed right now.” At his words I gripped my hands into white fists, unsure of what I was going to do. The tug of war between Law and me had snapped. He acted all knowing, but he was veiled. I wasn’t shadowed; I was utterly consumed. The door to hell had opened and I’d fallen through head first. I was living among the fire and brimstone and he thought there was hope?

“I think we have our wires crossed, Law,” I gritted, spinning around to glare at him. “I made a mistake with you, and that’s my fault, so let me clear it up. There is
nothing
between us. Just because I let myself give in to my self-loathing and misery for a few moments when you were around doesn’t mean I like you. In fact, I
hate
you. I hate all guys like you. Our kiss disgusted me and the sooner you get that through your skull, the sooner you can stop skulking around like some fucking lost dog, got it?” The words cut through me like a chainsaw on a mission. They had a mind of their own and were using my mouth like a puppet.

I saw pain in Law’s eyes, sharp and clear like the sky after rain. When the pain disappeared, I swallowed the guilt.

“You’re right Nami,” Law said. His voice was hoarse, like he’d been coughing. Only seconds ago it had been full and robust, like usual. Now he sounded sick. “We do have our wires crossed. You’ve misread pity for concern. I pity you, Nami. I don’t care for you.”

And I thought my words had hurt. Law’s statement absolutely eviscerated me. I knew it wasn’t fair. What I had said to him was cheap and meant only to wound. I didn’t realize how accustomed I’d grown to his blanketing presence until he’d taken it away. Now I was bitter and cold and reality was once again shoved in my face.

I licked my dry lips, trying to do something until words came to my head. I didn’t know how to respond to him. He’d hurt me, but I didn’t want him to know that. I didn’t want him to think he had any sway with me.
I
didn’t want to acknowledge that he had any sway with me.

“Well,” I eventually said, voice cracking despite my best efforts. “So glad we got that cleared up.” I spun around and went out to the parking lot.

I stomped through the empty storefront, rejoicing as my feet crunched over bits of broken glass. When I made it outside, it had just begun to snow. Thick, puffy snowflakes landed and for a moment I was reminded of Raskol. He loved the snow. I shook the thought loose and pulled out my keys, ready to go home and drink this shitty day into oblivion.

“Where do you think you’re going?” I jumped at his voice, dropping my keys. Sighing, I got to my knees to search under my car. For someone who had been about to commit murder only moments before, I sure wasn’t very composed. With my hand aimlessly grappling under the car, I said to Law, “Why the fuck are you still here?”

“I don’t like how we left things.” Law leaned lackadaisically against my car, like he’d done so many times before, watching me search for my keys with bored interest.

“We didn’t leave things,” I corrected. “We ended things. Whatever this fucked up thing was is now over.” I growled in frustration. Where the fuck were my keys? I stuck my head closer to the gravel, trying to see under my car. Just as I was about to meld my head with gravel, I heard the sound of jangling keys. I shot up so fast I nearly banged my face against the side of my car. Law smirked at me, casually dangling my keys from his fingers.

“How?” I asked, stunned.

“Fast reflexes,” he responded, as if that explained everything. I glowered, reaching out to snatch them from his stupid fingers. In an instant, he pulled back. “No, I told you, I don’t like how we left things.”

“And I told you, we didn’t leave things.” I reached for my keys again but he closed his fist tight around them. “We
ended
them.”

“Get in the car Nami.” Law gestured to my beat up Honda.

“Best idea you’ve had yet.”

“And drive me to my hotel.”

“Then you go and say that,” I said sarcastically. Law clicked the button to open my car. Reluctantly I slid into the driver’s seat. I watched with mute indignation as he walked around the front to the passenger seat. Even though he had my keys, I felt an urge to lock the door. I didn’t though, because I was simply a helpless observer in my own life.

Law said jump, and I jumped. Morris said strip, and I stripped. When Law handed me the keys, I put them into the ignition and drove, trying not to think about the melting ice cube that had become my soul.

I pulled up to Law’s hotel and said, “Your personal taxi has arrived at its destination.”

“You’re coming up with me, Nami.” Law sighed, like
I
was the one putting him out.

“Hmm,” I mused, turning the ignition off but keeping the car on. I put a finger to my lips, as if pretending to really consider what Law had said. “I think I’d rather drink battery acid.”

“It’s time you learned about me, Nami.” Law’s usual smooth brogue adopted a sober, almost chilling intonation. “The real me.”