He was dead. Alice sat down, pulled a cigarette from her bra, propped her feet up on the body (but he didn’t serve well as a footrest, he was still too soft in the middle), then asked me for a lighter, because, as always, she didn’t have one. Bitch never did. I found some old matches and we sat there for hours smoking our way through all the cigarettes she could find stuffed in her shirt, wondering what kind of life this guy we had just killed must’ve had. There were no pictures anywhere; the walls were covered with “Back to the Future” movie posters and everything was covered in a thin layer of dust. The space was small and claustrophobic, not exactly conducive to entertaining, so I could only assume no one would really notice he was even gone. As I tossed the last butt on the stained carpet, secretly hoping it would ignite and hide our achievement, the Star Wars theme song echoed through the little apartment. I guess that means someone must care enough to wonder where the poor dead guy is. I looked down at his ringing pocket.
“Well, answer it,” Alice commanded.
I stared at her blankly; I was not going to allow her to tell me what to do. Grunting, she pulled the phone out of his pants and flipped it open nearly snapping it in half. She kept the conversation short, flailing her pale thin arms through the air with enthusiasm: he couldn’t come to the phone right now, he was napping, whatever, she knew what to say by this point. I picked my purse up off the floor and walked out the front door, Alice following close behind as she tossed the phone back onto the body. I watched it bounce off his stomach as I closed the door and shut him behind us.
I tried to remember the last time I had been without her. She was always right there following me everywhere I went. I never got any privacy but I didn’t really mind it, I would be lonely without her stubborn self constantly throwing her opinions in my face. She got that from me, I suppose.
We got on the bus and immediately started fighting about whether we usually got off at Saint Martin across from the deli or Lexington. A group of “poser” punk boys in faux leather jackets that were way too big for them stared in our direction, laughing. I was used to the odd looks we would get when we went in public, but I was never able to understand where they came from. Sure, we looked similar, we both had the same brown hair, even though Alice’s was short and pixie-like, and the same small rounded nose. We were both wearing thick black eyeliner around our green eyes and jeans that were a couple sizes too tight and squeezed our muffins tops. Okay, we looked exactly the same, but it was still nothing out of the ordinary. No one knew what we had just done and we looked as far from guilty as you could get, so I didn’t really care and neither did she.
Today, people stared as we muttered under our breath cursing at one another about what kind of liquor to get for that night. We had mastered our looks of ease after one too many close calls with the cops back in Chicago. This was Los Angeles, everyone was a little off. Alice looked up, glaring at each and every one of them, loathing their very existence in her world. She was very self-righteous in that manner and despised anyone that tested her boundaries. I’m surprised she put up with as much of my shit as she did without feeling the need to kill me off. I did pity her sometimes though; people seemed to see right through her innately aggressive, irate exterior without even a second glance- perhaps it was because she was petite. She still terrified me, even though I knew she would never have the guts to ever take her anger any further than a violent remark.
We got off the bus at Saint Martin (she usually wins our arguments) and walked back to our filthy apartment. My roommates were home, as they usually were in the middle of the day. Randy, the “farmer”, was passed out. Occasionally, he would lift his face up enough in a deranged sleep to choke back a breath before falling back down and suffocating himself in a pillow. His limbs sprawled out from every direction grasping the couch as if he were worried it would escape him in his slumber. I saw his knuckles turning white as his fingernails dug into the fabric, the little silver key to his room swinging from his wrist. Alice pranced over, obviously too enthusiastic about the opportunity that had so coincidently presented itself. She picked up Randy’s shoe, bashed him on the head with it, dropped the shoe, and ran around the corner giggling.
He jolted up, glaring at me with his bloodshot eyes, “What the hell is your problem?”
I shrugged, smirked, and walked away motioning for Alice to follow. I couldn’t take him seriously as it was, much less when he sounded like he had just been pushed down on the playground. My room was in desperate need of a cleaning and some decent lighting. Maybe I could cut a bigger window in the wall one day.
I grabbed my notebook from underneath a pile of dirty clothes. The lighter was nowhere to be found and I was in desperate need of a cigarette, as I’m sure Alice was too. I stormed over to the next room failing to notice that I had slammed the door before she could slip out. She caught my arm and swung me around, a distraught look in her eyes. I stared at her apologetically and continued on towards Crystal’s room.
Crystal was my other roommate. She had moved in only a couple months ago. I liked her more than Randy. He was dirty and always fucked up on something. She was good to look at and kept to herself for the most part. Her purple and black hair ran down the ridges of her spine barely covering the archaic looking tattoo marking her lower back. She had pieces of metal that elegantly covered her lip, nose, and eyebrow and I was sure that she didn’t own a piece of clothing that covered any significant amount of her tanned skin. She insisted on working from home, which didn’t pose a problem unless her work (which generally consisted of forty year old men, miserable in their marriages) overstepped its boundaries. She was laying upside down hanging half off the bed with her white IPhone pressed to her ear wearing nothing but a sequenced black thong when I marched in.
“...My mom and I haven’t spoken in god knows how long. She probably thinks im dead in a fucking ditch somewhere, which at this rate that’s where I’m goin’,” she looked up at me, piercing through my disgust with with her pale eyes and continued to talk to her phone. “I think I might be pregnant too. Roc just does what he wants with me, ya know? He doesn’t give a shit. God dammit. It would be one thing if he paid me like the rest of ‘em, but he feels like I owe him or some shit. I’ve been feeling weird lately and I’m pretty sure I’m getting fat.”
She had a joint hanging out of her mouth dropping ashes on her breasts. I wasn’t even sure that Crystal was her real name. We all had some unspoken agreement not to ask any questions. I took my lighter off her dresser, nodded, keeping me gaze locked on her bare skin for a minute too long for Alice’s liking, and walked out obligating myself not to look back.
“Whore.” Alice muttered as she followed me out clenching the back of my shirt. I knew she couldn’t stand her. She thought Crystal was pretentious and filthy and would complain all night when she had a “guest” over and we would have to stay up listening to the creaking bed frame. We went out to the balcony just as we usually did after a day such as today. We sat down on the stolen patio chairs and began writing. This was one of the few times we actually got along for an extended period. Sprawled across my lap were the dozens of notebooks we had been filling together since we were young. Every notebook was a different color and each person had at least a few pages, depending on how exciting of a killing it was, dedicated to them. Except for my dad. He had an entire book all to himself, it was red.
Alice doesn’t know this, but sometimes at night after she falls asleep, I will go back through the notebooks and read about what we have done. I never feel bad about it though, all these people got exactly what they wanted. It’s kind of a gift we have when we’re together. Alice has a knack for picking out who is seeking death but can’t find it on their own, and I am the one to help them reach it. We make a good team.
“Well, first he grabbed your purse and started to run with it. That was his way of telling us he wanted our help. Maybe he knew who we are, that’s why he disrespected you,” she looked into the distance at the smog coated clouds as she recalled the event.
“Then you tripped him, like the good friend you are,” she blushed and smirked at me, “and he looked pretty damn scared and took off. I told you that you were terrifying!”
This process went on for a while, my black ink bleeding onto the page. “It was your idea to follow him home though,” I cast her a glance without lifting my head.
“Yes, but, like I said, he needed us. It was your idea to use the plastic bag.”
The blame couldn’t be put on just one of us; we wouldn’t be who we are without one another. I have to admit, Alice is a good friend, most others would never do the things she does for me. A pack of cigarettes and six pages later, we had successfully documented our recent accomplishment. We really should make a book. My newest notebook was nearly full at this point, the tattered pages telling of our triumphs over the past year. It’s truly a wonder that no one has come to haul our asses off to jail by now though. I suppose it’s because we’re not really killing, merely doing our civic duty and getting anyone that might end up like my father off the streets. I’m sure the cops knew that. I heard about this thing once, in Oregon, called assisted suicide though. I guess that’s what you could call it. I didn’t like the word kill anyways, it sounded too violent and hyper aggressive. We weren’t really either of those, a little short tempered maybe, but that’s all, not like those crazy people you hear about on the news that go around killing just for the thrill; we’re helping.
The next morning, Alice had obviously woken up on the wrong side of the bed. From the moment she opened her eyes she began ranting about how inconsiderate my roommates were. Here she is trying to sleep and all she can focus on is the smell of pot seeping in under my door and the incessant moaning coming from the next room. She went on to tell me how I’m not living up to my full potential and if I was, I would never be staying in such a shitty apartment with such awful roommates. I had such a bright future, my foster parents were going to send me to law school and give me a job, why did I throw it all away, blah, blah, blah.
“We really should just get rid of them, you know. Your life would be so much better.” Her eyes were longing, still heavy with sleep and dark bags under her eyes. As appealing as the thought was, I couldn’t do it. They didn’t do anything wrong to us. I could only accept doing away with liars, abuses, cheaters, or stealers. I don’t way anyone else to have to deal with their shit. Randy just supplies people with bud, and Crystal supplies other people with sex, they weren’t really doing anything wrong.
“Please. It will make me stop bitching. You’re letting them take advantage of you, you know.” She was literally on her knees with her hands folded, begging me.
She hadn’t been in this vulnerable of a position since she was eight, handing me a gun and pleading that I shoot my father. I closed my eyes and saw my mother’s limp frame fall to the ground before me as he finally released his grasp. The beautiful discoloration on her neck, shades of purples and blue, were permanently painted onto the inside of my eyelids. I felt the familiar burning sensation on my cheek as my father’s rough skin came in contact with my face. I could hear my own screeching echo through the home where no one really lived. I remembered, there was a jolt, I couldn’t stop shaking, and there she was. My eyes were burning with tears and I couldn’t tell if I was moving or not; my head was spinning. Alice lunged at the gun near my father’s feet, this was the first time I had seen her and the last I had seen of him. She had small hands that barely fit around the barrel of the gun as she handed it to me and his eyes looked like two black holes ready to suck me in unless I destroyed their energy source.
I had to make it stop. A shiver down my spine sent the memory running and I realized my soul was right. She always was and she had saved my life. I owed her this much.
We smoked until the carton was almost empty, and then went into the kitchen. I put two pop tarts in the rusty toaster, pushed the knob down, and then wandered over to Randy’s room. As I opened the door, clouds of skunk ridden smoke escaped. He was spread across his bed with his eyes closed. I couldn’t tell if he was sleeping or not, I guess it didn’t matter anyways. Alice and I looked at each other, she handed me a pillow, I placed it on his face, a held it there for a minute or so, pressing my palms into the mattress beside each of his ears. He didn’t struggle much; I assumed he was too stoned. I dropped the pillow back on the floor on our way out. Alice shut the door behind us as we walked back to the kitchen to retrieve our breakfast. The smell of crystallized sugar filled the kitchen.
We ate in silence and listened to the soft snores coming from Crystal’s room. She gave me a nod and led the next mission. After opening the door, she gave me a little nudge causing me to stumble over some little rubber sex toy on the floor. Crystal woke up, her heavy mascara sealing her eyes shut.
“What are you doing?” she asked, as she eventually forced her eyelashes apart.
I did the best thing I could think to do. I walked over and straddled her half naked body. She had started coming onto me when she first moved in, but it stopped as soon as Alice texted her from my phone one night and told her to back off. I can’t say I was too happy about that.
As I leaned down and pressed my lips against hers, my fingers searched the bed for something I could use. I felt her body relax into mine, the taste of morning breath and cheap cologne, from the night before, overwhelming my tongue. I didn’t think she really wanted to die like the others though. Perhaps Alice was wrong this time. She was silent for the first time all day; at least she knew when it was time to shut up. She knew what she was making me do, the least she could do was allow me to enjoy the few minutes leading up to killing her.
Crystal’s hands explored my back. Her lips parted as she smiled and ran her tongue along the edge of mine. She pulled my ratted tank top over my head and unhooked my bra in one stealthy motion. I didn’t want to do this, but I knew my soul was watching, so I plucked it out of her fingers before she had a chance to toss it on the ground.
“Use that.” Alice mouthed to me. I swat my hand in her direction; I knew what I was doing. I felt Crystal’s legs wrap around my waist. I pressed my hips into hers, traced my tongue across the length of her collarbone, and slipped the strap reluctantly around her neck. All I wanted in that moment was to send Alice away (I’m not sure how Crystal didn’t see her in the corner), run my lips over every inch of her body, and go to sleep with her that night. Before Crystal had a chance to do anything about it, I tied a tight knot and held it against the ridge of her throat. I looked up at Alice’s eyes gleaming as she watched, sitting against the wall in a dark corner of the room. Crystal’s wide eyes stared up at me. I couldn’t watch them, so I squeezed mine shut and pressed my lips to hers one more time as I pulled the strap tighter. A moment later, her body became lifeless. I unwove her legs from mine and jumped out of the room unable to turn around.
The remainder of the day was quiet. I had no words to say, which meant neither did Alice. I didn’t want to write about today’s happenings, these ones, for whatever reason, I didn’t want to remember. I cleaned without much success, being sure to avoid the bedrooms. As the sun fell out of the sky I went to my room, Alice right there behind me.
She sat morosely on the window sill smoking a cigarette. We hadn’t spoken in hours. I finally pleaded with her, asking what was wrong. She admitted to me that she was worried I would give her away, kick her out on the street or something. She thought I was mad at her for pressuring me to kill them today. I assured her that was absurd. Sure, a life without her would be freeing in a way, but then I would have no one there to help me help these poor bastards that seek death. She stared out the window.
“I feel like you resent me sometimes. You know I only do what you want me to” Her voice trailed off.
“Come to bed. It’s late and we can talk about this tomorrow.” I tried to reason with her, unsure if I really meant what I was saying.
Finally having some triumph, she crawled into bed and slid under the blankets. The mattress shuttered, she was weeping silently next to me.
“Hey now, don’t cry. I don’t resent you. I need you. You and me. Always.”
I heard her sigh of relief as the tears stopped and she let sleep overpower her. That night I lie awake staring at the shapes in my ceiling. I think they were all mocking me. I watched the glow of the alarm clock cast red shadows over the piles of shit taking over my room. A little, translucent orange bottle with a white cap stuck out of a pile of clothes in the corner. I slipped out of bed and went over to kneel by the pile. I had forgotten about these. Alice had thrown them out years ago, I thought. As I picked up the bottle, my blue lighter fell out the pocket of a pair of jeans I used to love. The bottle was still full. I twisted off the lid and dropped one olive shaped pill onto my tongue. It was a struggle, but I managed to swallow it with the small amount of saliva I was able to produce. I looked over at the bed to see Alice’s eyes watching me. She had the blanket pulled up over her nose and looked appalled. I went over and crawled back into bed.
“You don’t trust me, do you? You shouldn’t have taken that,” her voice was muffled by the covers. A single tear escaped as she turned her back to me and curled up into a ball.
By morning, I realized I hadn’t slept. I had watched the shapes in the ceiling tell me a story. I looked over to see the sunrise through the hole in the wall. The streams of light pierced right through Alice’s translucent skin. She was more pale than I remember and I was pretty sure I could see the purple sheets through her right bicep. As she was beginning to fade, the reality (whatever that means) of what I had done was starting to resonate. I quietly placed my pillow over my soul’s face and held it for just a minute. I watched the life drain out of her.
That night I finished the carton of cigarettes.
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