*"I wanna know who you people are," I said in a whisper. My tears were drying now and I was running on adrenaline. "Who are you and how do you know who I am."
"I can't tell you that," she said calmly. "Not unless you come with us."
I glanced back at the man who'd helped me this far. He shook his head. "They're not going to tell you anything. Tell them you're leaving, and they'd better not follow you."
"I'm leaving this place," I told them firmly, finger ready to squeeze the trigger again. "And I swear to god I will blow your fucking brains out if you try and follow me."
Natasha put her hands up in supplication. "You're making a mistake," she said simply. I carefully made my way over to the table and picked up my purse.
"Wouldn't be the first one," I told her as I slowly backed out of the room. When we got out of the room, and it was clear that nobody was going to follow, I slipped the gun into my purse and ran as fast as I could.*
After a few minutes of pushing my way through the crowd of people who were just beginning their day, I slipped into a convenient back alley. Slowing down a little, trying to calm my frantically beating heart, I lit another cigarette. Hoping that first drag would help calm my nerves a little and finding myself more than a little disappointed, I leaned back against the cold, redbrick wall and attempted to take stock of the situation. Even against the chilly morning breeze I was sweating a little.
Christian was dead.
Dead.
I shook my head trying to sort through the millions of thoughts that were shouting for my attention. He was dead. As hard as I tried to focus on anything else that was the only thing I could think about. In my mind that moment played over and over again. I saw What the hell was her name? Try as I might I couldn't remember, but I could see turning her gun hand in slow motion. I saw her finger squeeze the trigger and, worse yet, I saw his head jerk back as it absorbed the bullet. The absolute worst thing though, the image that would haunt me for the rest of my life, was the lack of life in his eyes. Holding back my tears, I glanced down at my cigarette only to realize that I'd finished it already. Dropping it on the ground I turned and made my way toward a nearby door.
Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door and waited. When there was no answer I knocked again, pounding my fists against the wooden door as hard as I could.
A moment later I heard movement on the other side and finally the door opened.
Standing in the threshold was a young woman in her early twenties. Her skin was the color of dark chocolate, a nearly perfect match for the rather bleary eyes that were looking back at me now. Straight, black hair fell down loosely over the shoulders of her slinky black night gown. The gown did little to conceal the lean frame beneath. Her name was Michelle and she'd been in the city for almost a year now, another one of Christian's girls. We'd spent a lot of time together over the past few months and I'd grown to think of her as a sister. If there was anybody I could talk to right now, it was Michelle.
"You have any idea what time it " She looked at me a little closer, and her eyes filled with concern. "Damn girl, you look like shit. You okay?"
I shook my head. I'd been thinking about what I was going to say to her when I got here, but now I couldn't find words.
"Come in," she finally said.
I nodded and followed her into, what could loosely be called, her home. It wasn't large and it wasn't even very nice but it was so much more than a lot of the girls in the city could hope for. On one end of the sparsely filled room was a small twin bed and next to that was one of those mini-fridges. Against another wall was a rather worn looking mirror with a desk underneath it. On the desk I could see Michelle's makeup and her other tools of the trade.
"Drink?" she asked, picking a bottle of tequila up off of a counter. When I nodded, she produced two shot glasses. Filling them both, she handed one to me and we downed them. I grimaced a little as the liquor burned my throat on the way down, and held the glass up again. Once again she filled it and I did one more shot. This time she didn't join me. As I felt the alcohol start to work its magic, I sat down on the edge of her bed.
"You gonna tell me what the fuck has you so riled now?" she asked, setting the bottle and the glasses back down.
"He's dead," I whispered.
Michelle shook her head. "Who's dead? Did something happen last night?" She walked over and sat down next to me, putting an arm over my shoulder. "Did you tell Christian?"
When I turned to look at her, apparently my eyes were enough to tell her what I couldn't find the words for.
Michelle sagged and shook her head. "Christian?" she whispered.
I nodded.
Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back for a moment. "Shit," she said under her breath. After a moment, she lit a cigarette and looked at me. "What happened?"
I told her how it had started, how I'd gone to him this morning to hand in my earnings and take my cut, and how there'd been others there. "And then the blond bitch shot him in the head," I finished, shaking my head. "Michelle," I added. "They were looking for me. This happened because of me!" As the weight of responsibility began to fall on my shoulders again, I did what I could to keep it together.
"How can you be sure?" she asked. "Maybe you just happened to be "
"They knew my fucking name Michelle."
Her eyes went wide. "I was starting to think you didn't have one."
I stood up and stretched. "I don't know what to do," I finally said. I walked over to the counter. Already I could feel my high slipping away. "I don't know what to do without him." I pulled the baggie out of my purse. "I know you're always telling me I need to get off of this shit, but right now I need it," I said when I saw the disapproving look in her eyes. She simply nodded.
Pouring some of the white powder out, I divided it into three lines, rolled up one of the dollar bills I had left and snorted all three. It took a few minutes for the effects to settle in, but I started to feel a little better.
"Natalie "
I turned toward my friend, but she was just watching me with pity in her eyes. Besides, there'd been something familiar about that voice. Realizing where I'd heard it, I reached back into my purse and quickly drew the gun. Turning back, I found myself pointing the weapon at the same mysterious man who'd helped me back in Christian's apartment.
"Who the fuck are you bastard!"
"Oh my god!" Michelle screamed. "Why do you have a fucking gun?" I ignored her, still pointing the gun at the stranger. There was a grim smile on his lips.
"Not even a thank you?" he asked. He seemed extremely calm for somebody who was staring at the wrong end of a gun.
"I want answers! Christian's dead because of you and your friends."
"You should put down the gun," It was Michelle again, and I didn't believe the false calm that she'd laced her voice with for a moment.
"It's okay Michelle," I told her without taking my eyes off of him. "This fuck knows what happened."
"What fuck? Who the hell are you talking about, talking to?" she added.
I shook my head, dismissing her question.
"You know who I am Natalie," he said softly.
"I think you're seeing things," the girl behind me said meekly.
"I have no idea who you are," I told him in matter of fact tones. "I've never seen you before in my life." In the back of my mind I couldn't shake the feeling that I was wrong, but I ignored it for the moment.
"It's me," I heard her say. "Michelle. You know who I am."
I turned toward her. I didn't mean to point the gun at her, it simply turned with me. "I'm not talking to you, so keep your fucking mouth shut!" Michelle cowered, pressing herself against the wall on the far side of her bed. There were tears rolling down her cheek. I took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," I offered, "but this guy was there when Christian was murdered. He knows what happened."
"There's nobody there," she whispered. "I think you're seeing things."
"I am not seeing things," I told her, "He's real " I paused when the full force of what she was saying hit me. "You think I did it don't you? You think poor little Natalie got so fucked up this morning she didn't know what was real " I shook my head, trying to fight the feelings of betrayal I was being assaulted with. "I didn't kill him."
"I didn't say you did," she whispered. She was trembling now. I shook my head and turned back toward the man in black. "Start talking," I told him, "Or I will shoot you."
He smiled, "Good to see you haven't lost your spirit Natalie. You may not realize it but you know me, the rock couldn't completely remove me from your mind."
I shook my head, "This isn't a hallucination." I was pleading with him more than I was telling him anything.
This gave him pause before he realized what I meant. "No rock I'm not talking about crack or cocaine here, I'm talking about a stone."
I offered him a blank stare in return for that information.
He shook his head. "Karyn really did a number on you didn't she?"
Karyn? "What are you talking about? Make some fucking sense!" I held the gun up with more determination, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I could hear Michelle whimpering but I did my best to ignore it. "How do you know Karyn?" I hadn't seen my friend in three years, not since I'd come to this shit hole city.
He took a deep breath. "My name's Malcolm," he finally said, "and what I'm about to tell you is going to be extremely difficult to believe at best." With that he proceeded to tell me what had happened and he was right, it was extremely difficult to believe. I wasn't honestly sure I completely understood what he was saying.
"That's bullshit," I finally told him after thinking about it for a moment. "That doesn't even make sense."
"Aren't you wondering why you're the only one who can see me. I know you noticed in the apartment, and it's pretty obvious that your friend can't see me either."
Truth be told I'd been wondering exactly that. I could only think of one thing that made sense. "Maybe she's right," I told him. "Maybe you are just in my head."
"You know I'm not."
"I don't know what the hell I know right now."
"Look deep down."
I did. Part of me knew he was right; knew it with every fiber of my soul, but it was still so impossible. Presumably I'd gotten a hold of some kind of magical, wish-granting rock and I'd fucked it up royally.
"Do you even know how ridiculous that sounds?"
Malcolm looked at me and nodded, "You know it's true though. I'm betting you've been having strange dreams too "
"Fuck you," I said, suddenly full of rage. How dare he bring that up! Without thinking about, I pointed the gun at his chest and fired. Behind me, Michelle screamed
