Page 13

TWELVE

SKELETONS

SILVER AND COLD: AFI

2 DAYS LATER

ASH

D uring my last two days in the hospital, I found myself involved with the nurse more than I ever expected—six times she sucked my dick, to be exact. Each encounter brought Calista to my mind. It wasn’t something I sought out; Jo would come in with medication, and I felt powerless to say no. Yet, looking back, I realize I should have.

Now, as I get dressed in clothes that Kill brought for me, I patiently wait for my discharge papers. I didn’t inform anyone about my release today; I want it to be a surprise. At the same time, I fear being overwhelmed as soon as I step through the fucking door.

I stand near the window, dressed in my usual all-black attire with crisp white and black Nike dunks, and a brand new black snapback covering the messy hair on top of my head. The door to my room opens, but I don't look behind me; my eyes are glued to the thick clouds filling the sky.

"Ready to go, handsome?" Jo asks in a squeaky voice, making me turn around to see her gripping the back of a wheelchair to escort me down to the exit.

"More than you fucking know," I reply, a chuckle escaping me as I settle into the chair, enjoying the proximity as she pushes me towards the exit.

"You need a ride? I'm off. You're my last patient of the day," she says, her pierced brow arching playfully.

I nod my head, already fantasizing about fucking her until I drain the life from her body. "Yeah, I'll take that ride," I tell her, even more anxious to leave this fucking place.

We get down to the lower level parking garage, and she helps me out of the wheelchair, my legs wobbly, but I manage to walk on my own, following her to where she parked her car. My eyes fixate on her peachy ass, hugged perfectly by a teal pair of scrubs this time. But it doesn't matter what color they are; they'll be splattered in red by tonight.

I shake my head, trying to dispel the dark thoughts swirling in my mind as I reach her car. Jo unlocks the door, and I slide into the passenger seat, the scent of her floral perfume gagging me as I adjust myself. The engine hums to life, and as she pulls out of the parking garage, I feel a sense of liberation wash over me.

I'm fucking free.

“Where to?” she asks, glancing at me with a teasing smile.

“Anywhere but fucking here,” I reply, my voice steady despite the chaos inside my head.

I can feel anticipation creeping in, and it’s not just about escaping the sterile walls of the hospital. The urge, the cravings to get high again taunt me, and the fact that I was just in a coma for three fucking weeks because of an overdose doesn't seem to matter. Drugs have such a huge hold over me; I can't help but want them.

“Got a specific place in mind?” She presses, her tone playful, but I catch a hint of sincerity beneath it.

“Just fucking drive,” I demand, popping a couple extra Valium the doc prescribed me, just wanting to feel relaxed, hoping the darkness and rage inside of me dissipates.

As we hit the open road, the reality of freedom begins to settle in. I let the scenery pass by, watching as we leave the dull institutional buildings behind. My heart races—a mix of excitement and dread. What will be waiting for me now that I'm out? Friends? Enemies? Ghosts of my past? And there's Calista. Her name echoes in my mind, a haunting reminder of choices I made and the emotional pull that tethers me to her still.

Jo turns on the radio, a girly tune filling the car, and for a moment, I let myself indulge in the distraction of music, but it gets me even more worked up and angry. I think about the face I’ll see when I step into the world again, my mind flitting between Calista’s warmth and the thrill of the unexpected between Jo and me.

“What’s with the pensive look?” Jo asks, breaking me from my thoughts. Her eyes flicker toward me, waiting for my answer.

“Just thinking about life after the hospital,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “It feels like I’m stepping back into a fucking whirlwind.”

“Been there. It can be overwhelming but also liberating. Just remember to breathe,” she advises, her tone shifting to a softer, more sincere note.

“Yeah, breathing—my new fucking motto.”

She smirks, clearly sensing more beneath the surface of my words. “We all cope in our own ways,” she says, her gaze focused on the road. “You just gotta find what works.”

As we pull up to a red light, something in my chest constricts. My phone buzzes in my pocket—a reminder of the world waiting for me. I pull it out, and my stomach drops as I see a string of missed calls and messages, all from Calista. My mind races; she must have found out about my release.

“What’s wrong?” Jo asks, glancing at me.

“Nothing,” I lie, quickly putting the phone away.

“I know that look. You need to take care of whatever that is,” she encourages gently.

I glance at her, searching for clarity and finding unexpected turmoil in her presence. “Yeah, and what if I fucking don’t know how?”

“Then let’s figure it out together,” she responds, a flicker of genuine connection flashing in her eyes.

Before I can respond, the light turns green, and I make a decision. “Let’s not go to my place just yet,” I say, my voice steadier now. “I need to clear my fucking head first.”

She smiles, a playful glint in her eye. “I know just the spot.”

As we drive into the gathering dusk, I can feel the world unfolding—everything still to come, the land of uncertainty stretching out before me. No longer bound by the hospital, I’m ready to face whatever lies ahead, but first, there's something I need to fucking take care of.

The car eventually comes to a stop at what looks to be some kind of park, obviously closed for the night. But that doesn't stop either of us from getting out of the car and disappearing into the pitch black, following the trail through rows of tall trees that block the gleam of the full moon. Taking advantage of the darkness, I reach into my pocket and pull out a pair of latex gloves I stole from the hospital, subtly putting them on as Jo rambles on about some shit.

My heart races, beads of sweat forming across my brow. As we come up to a small clearing, still shielded by the trees, I swiftly turn to face her and roughly back her up until her spine hits the thick trunk of one of the trees. My hand goes to her throat on instinct, and I choke her, watching the twisted grin curl across her lips.

"I wouldn't be smiling if I were you," I warn her, violently shoving her scrubs down and spinning her around, her face pressed into the rotting back.

"You're hurting me, Ash," she whines, and fuck, it turns me on even more.

"Good. That's the fucking point," I snarl into her ear as I pull my dick out, slamming into her from behind in a long, deep thrust that makes her cries echo around us.

As she starts to talk again, I choke her even harder, feeling her frantic pulse rapidly throb against my fingers as I fuck her like I've been imagining in my head. I show her no mercy, feeling the rage and anger seep from my pores with each thrust, even as she tries to squirm and break free from my hold.

All I see is red as I fist the back of her hair, yank it backward, and then brutally smash her face into the tree trunk. It silences her almost immediately, blood from her mouth and nose running like a river down the tree. But I still fuck her, knowing she's unconscious, pushing my body against hers while using the tree as leverage.

My hand is still around her throat, my grip never loosening. I can't stop. Her blonde hair smells like lavender—just like Cali's. But her blood begins to overwhelm the comforting scent, enraging me all over again.

I give her pussy a few more deep, rapid thrusts before I pull out and shove her limp body to the ground. She awakens upon impact, delirious and afraid, but I'm nowhere near finished with her. This is why I couldn't just go to Cali because tonight, I'm in the mood to kill, and this bitch is the fucking perfect target.

"Get on your hands and knees," I order her, waiting impatiently as she slowly rises to position, pulling my knife out of my pocket.

I kneel down behind her, lining up my dick with her ass, and fist her hair and give it a rough tug as I pound into her without warning. She screams, but I smile, feeling an odd sense of calmness washing over me. Her fingers frantically claw at the ground, the dirt getting her nowhere. But I take great pleasure from a fighter, and this bitch is putting up one hell of a fight.

But she won't win. I will, and it'll end with her not only losing, but losing her life.

Euphoria consumes my head as I rhythmically fuck her, giving her deep, calculated strokes, feeling her body shaking frantically beneath me. Gripping my knife, I feel my orgasm coming, my insides turning to fucking white hot rage and an insatiable hunger for need.

"Thanks for everything, Jo," I whisper in her ear as I pull her hair back, my lips ghosting along the shell of it.

She trembles as I put the sharp edge of my knife to her throat, still fucking her ass while her palms and knees dig into sticks, stones, and dirt.

I know I can't come inside her, so just as I feel myself about to fucking explode, I pull out of her ass and bust on her back, slitting her throat at the same time. I continue to shower her until my balls are empty and not one ounce of anger still lingers.

I stare down at her dead body, covered in blood, half fucking naked, my thoughts drifting back to Calista—they're always drifting back to her. Drenching her in the rest of the lighter fluid in my pocket, I light a match and toss it onto her body. And then I light another and another, until the box is empty and a roaring fire burns like hell in front of me.

I clean up the best I can, making sure to bring everything I use with me back to her car a few hours later once her body actually started to burn away all potential evidence of my DNA on her. I know I'm covered in her blood and that there are places I missed, but I'm going home from here so I won't have to answer to anyone.

As I drive her car back to my side of the city, I can't get Calista off my mind. Am I supposed to tell her what I did? Why I did it? Is she going to consider it cheating and possibly leave me for the others? I'm driving myself fucking crazy, but a half-smoked blunt in the ashtray helps calm my nerves the rest of the way home as I smoke it to nothing but Ash.

I pull her car into the parking garage, leaving it on the top level, but not before methodically searching for some kind of GPS that could give its location away and possibly hem me up. I just need to wait till the morning so I can talk to Five about taking it to the chop shop.

I walk from the garage to our apartment building, noticing only Cali's light on from the street as I look up at her window; the rest of the apartment pitch black.

I'm already freaking the fuck out on how I'm going to tell her what I did. It ain't like she doesn't know I have skeletons in my closet—she does too; we all do. But now, after tonight, my skeletons are so much fucking worse. It all makes me wonder this: is she going to be able to handle them, or is this what ends up pushing her away?