What We Learned at Rokudai - 16 (Pt 1)

What We Learned at Rokudai
Chapter 16 - Killer
(Part 1)

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- Spring, Five Years Ago -

"Hello? Anybody home?" Jane surveyed the quiet living room as she slid off her dirt-crusted hiking boots.

Tacky ranch-styled carpeting greeted her beneath the brownish-orangeish-pinkish abomination that was her Uncle’s couch. An old six point buck head stared at her from the wall. It always made her stomach crawl. There was no car in the driveway aside from her own, but someone had to be home - the door had been unlocked and lights were still on. With a shrug, she let an exhausted sigh slip from her lips she set her backpack onto the floor by the couch. It had been a long, damp weekend of hiking and camping, but had been rewarding, nonetheless.

"Hell-oh?" she called out, confused, as she unstrapped her hiking boots. Her feet tender and blistered, she carefully paced through the living room, appreciating the squishy, soft carpet. She glanced out through the glass sliding door to the backyard. No one was in sight. "Hm." She frowned, perplexed, and wandered upstairs. She noticed the bathroom door was closed, and it clicked - whoever was home was probably occupied.

"Hey," she greeted to them, stretching out her arms and dragging her aching joints to her bedroom at the end of the hall. "I'm here early," she explained to whichever cousin was there. She knew her Uncle was still at work on this Sunday afternoon. She received no response but shrugged it off. This family wasn't exactly talkative, but she didn't mind. "Anyway, I'll be in my room," she advised, closing her banged-up door.

Her muscles were sore, her head throbbed, and her clothes were damp with rain and sweat. It had been an exhausting week of camping and she was bushed. Without the will to take a shower at the moment, she opted that she would just change into fresh clothes for the time being. Her room's walls were painted black, posters of a random assortment of movies that didn't really make sense together were splattered haphazardly around the room – most of them weren't hers. This wasn't really her room, after all. Just her summer getaway. When summer struck, Dad ended up taking the time to really focus on his work, do a lot of traveling, Washington sorta stuff at courts or whatever. Jane and her Mom weren’t on good terms ever since the whole ‘I’m a girl’ decision had been made, and Mom was usually busy enough herself. So she would send Jane to spend a week or two at a time at her Uncle's house with her two cousins. It was a mixed bag. On the one hand, they had an epic backyard – they lived in the middle of fucking nowhere and there were hills and grass and just...not-people...for miles. She could easily escape in all that. On the other hand...she had to sleep in a refitted rec room/attic-y sorta deal that had turned into a guest room.

Her sheets sat in a bunch on the guest room mattress – plain green in color – and a day’s worth of clothes were crumpled in a pile at the foot of her bed, just as she'd left it a week ago. A composition notebook was flopped onto the corner of the hand-me-down dresser, the name "Killerbee" scribbled and retraced on its front. Cartoony sketches of bumblebees buzzed around the cover, and a doodle of a squirrel with beefy human arms appeared to be holding up the blank title square on the front. A small antfarm milled about on the work desk against the wall. After checking in on the little folks in the glass, Jane slipped on a pair of roomy sweatpants for lazy Sunday afternoons, appreciating the security that was brought by the familiar sound of the toilet flushing in the distance and creaking footsteps crawling down the hall. The smell of summer pollen wafting through the warm breeze that tickled at the screen window. The way her socks slipped slightly against the glossy wooden floorboards. Her summer getaway, quiet and secure.

That security was shattered at the sound of her bedroom door's handle clicking.

"What the hell, man?" she hissed with irritation, happy her back had been facing the door as her shirt was off. She rushed to slap her fresh T-shirt on. "Would ya knock from now on? I was freakin'-..." When she'd whirled around, her heart had skipped a beat, a wave of fear washing through her veins. He didn't belong here. This was her space now. She'd thought she'd gotten rid of him months back when his family had moved. Her past two visits here had been uneventful, blissful by comparison to every fucking time this creep harassed her.

She gulped hard, a knot in her throat, her insides churning at the sight of his curious face. "N-Nils?" she mumbled. She dunked her words in a bucket of spare courage she had lying around and tossed them out at him. "What are you doing here? Get outta my room!"

"Aw, little Cousin It..." Nils taunted. "Thought you'd be more excited to see me. It's been too long.”

“Not long enough,” Jane grumbled back, trying to put on her best tough face. Her fingers were shaking.

“Simmer down, prick," Nils grunted, rolling his eyes at her defensive nature. "Your cousins went to the store to get some drinks, I'm waiting for them to get back."

"Why'd they leave you here, then?" Jane demanded, suspicious.

“That hurts, Jamie.”

“Jane.”

“I'm a friend of the family. This is like a second home to me.”

He'd taken a couple steps toward her. She didn't like it.

“Why are you in town, anyway?”

"Just seein' some faces before I graduate,” Nils defended. “And they told me to come meet them here at three. I showed up in town a bit early so I figured I'd just stop in like old times and make myself at home."

The explanation seemed plausible enough, and Jane's cousins did have a tendency to leave the front door unlocked. Nils had – for worse -- become like some odd overgrowth into the family. Her cousins would probably leave the door open on purpose for good ol' fucking Nils.

"Fine, whatever," dismissed the red-head with the scowling olive eyes. "Just...piss off and leave me alone, all right?"

"Whatsa matter?" Nils jeered. "Why all the hate, huh? Don't miss your old chum? We might never get to see each other again."

"Out." Jane burst the word out through clenched teeth, her heart-rate climbing just being in his presence. Rage and fear blended together into a most unpleasant combination. She thrust her index finger back to the hall behind her longtime adversary.

He shook his head and sighed. "I try to play nice and you're a complete bitch. Just like old times, am I right?" His smug grin and devilish eyes berated her, and in her wrath she gave in, stomping to him and shoving at his shoulders. She was shocked when her wrists were tightened by his grasp. She pulled to no avail, glaring at his cocky smile. He twisted her arms around, behind her back, and chuckled at her squirming and huffing. "You think you're so tough. It's cute. Hilarious." He let go suddenly, and Jane found herself tumbling back, falling flat on her rear. As Jane lamented the pain and frustration, the door closed. The soothing -click- of the lock on the door - normally a great comfort - was now terrifying. This didn't compute. Nils, in this safe space, was never meant to exist.

"Leave me the fuck alone," Jane growled, her strength deteriorating as she scrambled to her feet.

"We both know that's not what you really want, Jamie," Nils suggested, his eyes sly as he ran his hand across his thin, clean blond hair. "Ya know, I'm actually really glad you showed up when you did. It's like fate." He was slowly pacing toward her, one step forward for each one she took back. "Two star-crossed lovers...-" he mused dryly. "...getting a chance to-"
"Don't you fucking touch me," seethed the girl from the corner of her room, her voice cracking.

In that moment, every odd glance, every lingering smile, every off-remark, and every insult...all of it came snapping together like a puzzle. He was obsessed with her, wasn't he? That was why he always saved some attention for her, why he always went out of his way to give her trouble, all this time. "I swear to God, Nils, I will rip your fucking balls off," Jane threatened, shaking her head intently at him, relishing the idea.

"Oh-ho!" He clapped his hands together mockingly. "You really know how to cut straight to the chase, don't you? Always have liked that about you Fitzpatricks."

Jane had run out of space to retreat to and he had come within inches of her by now. Her fists were tight, and she launched one into his chest. It sunk into his pectoral with little effect, save for a cough.

"Whoa, throwing punches, are we?" Nils shrugged off her feeble attempt. She swung the other at his face, and he absorbed the blow, as if on purpose. Her arms were trembling now, eyes ablaze, as she shook off her wrist. Probably had done more damage to herself than him. He sighed and sniffed, wiping a trickle of blood from his nose. "Two for two. Haven't lost your touch, have ya? Scrapper. Livin' up to that Irish name."

You fucking-ho-bag-douche-whore-shithead-creeper, shut up.

Jane motioned to ram her knee into his testicles - that would sure keep him quiet - but her efforts failed as he caught on to her scheme, delivering a solid blow to her stomach with his knuckles. Jane's twisted intestines were now smashed together, and she coughed violently from the force.

"Let me have a turn, will ya?" Nils chuckled after the fact, pressing his head against her own. Her body was scrunching up in reaction to the hit. She pushed at his thick frame with her scrawny arms to no avail, pressed at his head with her own despite her dazed state, but the strength simply wasn't there. She was too skinny, he was too large, the wind had just been knocked from her, and she was already drained from her hiking that day as it was. His butch hand clutched itself around her neck before slamming it against the wall. The back of her skull pounded with pain, the world a blur around her, until another body blow overloaded her senses.

She came to moments later, the familiar comfort of her bed calming her petrified soul. Her situation came roaring back into her mind like a train crashing into her fortress of peace. As her senses drifted back, she was horrified at the realization that the very clothes she had just changed into her no longer there. She only wore her underwear.

"Rise and shine, Cousin It." Nils' voice berated from above. She grabbed her head in agony, her sight still blurred from the impact. "Hm. A push-up bra and boxers. Can't say I'm surprised in the slightest."

"...The...The fuck are you...-?" Jane warily urged words out but they tumbled and spilled where she intended to lash.

"I know it's been an excruciating wait, my friend." The girth of Nils' body heaved down on Jane's back and she grunted out in defiance as he continued. "All this time you've been teasing me with the name-calling, the punching..." Nils pinched at her cheek and she tugged away, her skin stretching and snapping back. "...Flaunting those cute freckles of yours and that pretty, pretty hair." He ran his dry, clean hands through her greasy, sweaty mess of orange. Jane thrashed from under his heft, squirming to escape. She may not have possessed the physical force to bring him down, but surely she was too speedy for him.

Just as she could feel herself finding some headway, a clump of her hair was tugged back, yanking her head up, the nerve endings burning her scalp. She cried out in aggravation and fury, scratching at his arm with her dirty nails. Her face was crushed into her own pillow, eliciting her to switch up her reaction and gasp for breath through her own pillow's fabric rather than attack. The cold, beefy hand against her neck felt like Death's fingers pulling at her spirit. She could hear the sound of Nils' jeans unzipping from behind her, and she anticipated the torture that awaited.

She couldn't run, she couldn't fight, she could only endure. Minutes passed, each second a small eternity of agony. She tried to drown out the sensations, but she might as well have been ignoring bullets and grenades from inches away. When the last round had been fired and the battle ended, the weight lifted, the zipper sounded again, a siren in her ears, and she flinched as his hand gently smacked the back of her head.

"You'll always be mine, Little Cousin It."

Heaving, Jane did not move from her position on the bed for a long, defeated moment. She felt dead, her soul riddled with bullet holes. She simply waited, trembling in a heap on her stomach, until the door closed. She slowly rolled onto her back, her fresh afflictions surging cramps and pain through her body. She woefully glanced at the closed door to confirm that the danger was gone. Only then, upon his exit, did she allow herself to cry out the shadows he had put in.

She decided that she would not feel this way ever again. Under any circumstances.

---

- Friday, November 21^st -

"So did you finally manage to get that stick out of Juniper's ass?" Jane wondered, spinning her straw around in her large cup with the blue arrow. She glanced at Aaron's sigh as she tipped her strawberry milkshake up to her face.

"Did you stop trying to shove it in deeper?" he retorted, grabbing his fresh veggie wrap in both hands.

"Touche," Jane congratulated, raising her cup with a wink. "'Atta boy, Aaron. Nice. Unexpectedly crude," she teased. “Proud o' ya." They exchanged humored grins before Aaron chewed into his green-tinted wrap and Jane sucked a gulp of pink shake. "Seriously, though," Jane muttered. "Seems better this weekend. Shit get cleared up?"

"W-well, I mean...as much as they can be right now, sure," Aaron answered with some hesitation.

"The hell does that mean?" Jane dubiously inquired, taking a moment to study Aaron's sheepish expression, his eyes staying stuck to his food.

"Her and Katrina made up and everything."
"Yea?"
"But...she's still really upset with her parents." He sighed, enjoying another bite of his meal. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not happy with them, myself, but...I think Katrina has a good point."

"Mm," Jane shrugged in compliance, uncomfortable with taking any sides.

"She won't listen to anyone, though," Aaron lamented. "Not even me."

"Eh, she'll figure it out herself," Jane concluded with some remorse. "The hard way."

Aaron nodded his head to the side in admittance, not pleased with the concept.

"When she gets worked up about her folks, though, she gets all...-" Aaron huffed, letting the thought trail off.

"Gets all what?" Jane prodded coyly, noticing some embarrassment in Aaron's demeanor.

"Uh, difficult," replied Aaron. "Very pushy."

"Pushy, huh?" The red-head crossed her arms, amused by the prospect as she quickly pieced things together.

"Y-yea, it's...She gets very...physically demanding."

"Horny.."

"..." Aaron's brows furrowed in discomfort.

“Oh, come on,” Jane puffed. “Just a word, man.”

"Right. Sure. Sh-she gets...really horny..." The words trickled out reluctantly. "I-I don't know what to do with it when she acts like that."

Jane slurped more strawberry liquid and wiped her lips with her knuckle, holding back a chuckle at his endearing confusion.

"Oh, so...you're ain't interested?" Jane teased with glee as Aaron's face burned up.

"N-no, that's-...Of course I am," Aaron assured. "It...It's a little...bit much sometimes."

"Little forceful, huh? Ya don't say..." Jane grinned facetiously.

"It bothers me sometimes, though," explained Aaron with some seriousness through his blushing. "She gets so stubborn, and she tries pushing me to do stuff I just...-"

"...You're not comfortable with," finished Jane with some solemnity.

"Yea," huffed Aaron.

Jane nodded slowly, and sat her drink down. "OK, look," she firmly advised. "I know how that girl is. Don't let her force you to do something you ain't cool with."

"Yea...She's-...She's usually good about taking it slow," Aaron defended her. "We've...ya know." He popped his shoulders up. "We've made progress, we're a lot more...intimate than we were when we started."

"Don't let her push you, Bud," Jane reiterated, tapping her finger into the table. "Take your time. Trust me, that kinda stuff-...It's tricky."

"I don't-...I don't know what I'm doing," Aaron explained. "This is-...It's all new to me. I've never had a girlfriend before Juniper."

"Heh." Jane smirked and nodded her head. "Yea, shit. I can tell."

A pouty frown poured across Aaron's face and Jane laughed.

"Hey, hey,” Jane eased. “Don't be like that. It's fine. Everyone's gotta start somewhere."

"I feel like I'm...not 'man' enough or something."

"Nah, fuck that," Jane burst out in defiance. She drank the last of her milkshake as she contemplated her reply. "That's such bullshit. Manly, girly, fuck that. Lemme tell ya: ain't about how 'manly' or 'womanly' you are. Just about...how you are. Period. Jun doesn't look at it like that. She doesn't think 'is Aaron man enough?' Get me?" Aaron nodded at her raised, expectant eyebrows. "She thinks 'Aaron is enough.' Just you, exactly as you are. Hasn't she told you this shit by now?"

"She has, she has...When she gets all...pressuring...and stuff, it starts seeming like she wants me to do things I don't want to do yet, or be someone I'm not."

"I hear ya," Jane agreed. "I can see that. But like you said, maybe that's just because she's stressed right now."

"I guess."

"Ya know, Aaron..." Jane fidgeted in her seat as Aaron ripped through his vegetables. "I know what it's like."

"Mmph?" His mouth was full.

"The...- " Jane glanced around B&S's, pleased that there wasn't anyone nearby who would likely overhear. "The 'uncomfortable' thing." She was mumbling now, trying to convey some intimacy but unsure how to do it in this public setting.

"What do you mean?" Aaron wondered.

"I...-" Jane's olive eyes darted to her right for a moment, her nail running across her left eyebrow. "Uh. Had trouble with...physical shit, too." Aaron's curious eyes were now peppered with concern as Jane went on. "Takes time, but ya know...” Katrina's warm smile; her brows arced with concern; her soft, dry hands rubbing Jane's back. “Find the right people. Ya find a way that works. All about going at your own pace. I dunno."

"I know, I'm trying. So you, erh-...” Aaron uncertainly waggled his finger toward her. “You've worked through that sort of stuff before? With...-?”

“Jack. Yea.”

Jane nodded and took a deep breath as her mind was washed over the stress of that entire situation.

"I needed to go slow," Jane admitted. “Like, with me?” she gestured toward herself. “Kinda, ya know...didn't feel too good about myself. Didn't want anyone else seeing...-” She sighed through her nose, trailing off as her mind whirled around to the good times she had shared with CrackerJack. The good times Killerbee had shared with him. Guy was a fuckup n' all, but...so was she. Was easy to shit-talk him after the fact, but the asshole had helped her work through some cra. “Uh. Got there eventually, but...-"

"Got there?"

"Got there," Jane dryly confirmed. She was getting frustrated by all the conflicting thoughts this topic was bringing to mind.

“...Ah.” Aaron seemed to shrink in his seat a bit. “Did you...uh...love him?”

Ulgh. Why was he asking something like that?

“Does it matter?” Jane flatly retorted, shaking her head. She folded her arms onto the table and sat her chin down.

“To me, it would,” Aaron explained.

"Uuuughhhh..." She slammed her head into the table. “Don't even fucking know the answer, man. Just dunno.”

"Sounds like I'm not the only one who needs to work out some stuff."

Jane quickly popped her head up and ranted off her issue. "Seemed important to him until those goddamned Eagle Eyes needed him. Always came before me. Every...-" She puffed out the rest in a quiet breath, slapping her palm against the table in defeat. “-...fucking time...” She quickly grumbled, “Look, can we drop this? Him? Don't even wanna-...Just-...Fuck him.”

Aaron flinched back from her frustration.

Jane let the concern and sympathy in his eyes drizzle down on her hot shit sundae of fucked-up memories. Jane had trouble swallowing it all done, nonetheless. She closed her eyes. She shoved the shit sundae out of her face. She guzzled a mental milkshake of her evening at Homecoming with Kat. Her silky arm, wrapped up in her own, her cheeks flushed with makeup, her hair all fancy and brushed, her smile timid but excited. The moths causing a tornado in her chest...

“...You OK?”

"Fff,” Jane stirred herself from her brain with a laugh in spite of her own sentimentality.

“Are you mad?” Aaron checked meekly.

“Sorry, dude,” Jane murmured with some nervousness. “Got me a little...worked up, there."

"Yea, no kidding," picked Aaron, stealing her line from earlier. "I can tell."

"Gettin' quicker on the draw, Aaron." Jane pointed to him with a sneaky grin. "But ya gotta be more original with the comebacks."

“Oh, I see. Better work on that.”

---

- Spring, Seven Years Ago -

The flame flickered, whipping to and fro in the evening wind. The fire entranced her, its glowing, warping fluidity mesmerizing. Such life in something that wasn't alive at all – something that destroyed everything it touched. Just like her.

Her hand was shaking, trying to keep the lighter steady. Against the brown skin of her forearm was a patch of bluish-black, incurred from the scrap she'd gotten into hours prior. She refocused her eyes on that wonderful little flame.

But then the flame went out. She took in a sharp breath through her nose, chewed at her lip, fidgeted with her cigarette, and struck at the lighter switch.

-Flick-

-Flick-

-Click-

-Clack-

-BANG-

The lighter slipped from her hand, clattering to the wooden patio beneath her. Her cigarette immediately followed. Her heart was pounding. She clawed at her scalp, swallowing saliva in a panic. Everything was quiet.

It was just a lighter. Just a fucking lighter. Nothing had happened. She was just hearing things.
Things from earlier that morning. Things like screaming. Her ears ringing. Blood dripping all over the floor.

“Ffffff-uck,” she breathed out in a whimper. She could feel the veins in her temples pulsing against her palm. She cautiously bent down to pick her lighter up, the edges of wood scratching splinters against her nails as she struggled to retrieve her addictions. She was nauseated. She was drained. She was shaking and trembling and…fuck. She hated this. This was the worst. She’d never felt like this before. Everything…-! Everything was so fucked. She’d screwed herself over – screwed Rodney over. Both their lives were down the damned toilet now. Poor fucking guy. All her fault.

She needed a fucking smoke. Right now. And she couldn’t even get her…goddamn… hands to-…Grrghhh!

“Coral?”

“Jzz-!” Coral’s shoulders sprung up in defense. She fumbled the lighter and cigarette again, whipping her head around over her shoulder. It was her Uncle. As she turned, she accidentally crushed the cigarette under one boot and kicked the lighter with the other.

Her twitchy gaze flipped to the plastic item as it skidded across the patio -- “Hey…” – then back to her Uncle at the sound of his voice.

“Huh?” she spit out, feigning peace of mind.

Uncle Malik was careful in his approach. He could probably see it – see how fucked up she was. How pathetic she was. How fucking angry she was with herself, how fucking-
“How’re you holdin’ up, Kiddo?”

He was lingering right in front of her, his head tipped to the side a bit. Studying, observing. Like he was going to be able to figure out something that could help. Well, he couldn’t. No one could. Not even herself – definitely not herself, she’d just make things worse.

“Huh?” he prodded gently, easing her bicep with a squeeze. Her muscle flexed involuntarily, a twitching reaction to the contact, and Malik withdrew. “You okay?”

“Nn-nn,” Coral confessed in the negative, shaking her head while avoiding his eyes. They were eyes with pity in them. Shame, disappointment, pity…she refused to look at them. She watched his hands stuff themselves into his coat pockets. His Chief-of-fucking-Police coat pockets. Salt in the wound. It burned like a mother fucker. She was practically fuming, grateful she had on a baseball cap to help shadow her eyes from his overhead sight.

“Things happen, Coral,” Uncle Malik stated with a hint of exhaustion. He’d probably come under some heat for the accident. He’d been the one to give Coral such a glowing recommendation…He was probably half of the reason the Academy had let her in.

“Shit happens,” Coral bitterly corrected him. Her nose was started to gunk up. She sniffed. “And I cause it…”

“Come on,” Mailk tried to persuade. “You had no idea that-“
“I should have!” Coral snapped, flicking up her wrists as she brushed by Mailk to retrieve her lighter. “Pretty sure a cop is supposed to ‘have-an-idea’ if the safety on their fucking gun is off!”

“That’s what training is for, Cory. And accidents are a part of-“
“An ‘accident?!’” Coral seethed, clawing at her purple lighter. “An accident is when you…fuckin’…back your car into the garage!” She flapped her wrist out, growling over her shoulder.

Turning to him, she continued, pulling her cigarette box out of her pocket.

“An accident is, like-...I don’t-…Fff.” She shook her head as she knocked the last cigarette from its case, flinging the box to the floor behind her. “Tripping up the stairs, busting up your knee. Falling off your…fucking bike.” She flicked her sore thumb at the sparker, leveling the cigarette to her lips. Each metallic strike tensed her shoulders just a bit more. “Blowing off a man’s fucking fingers?!” She was a bit hysterical at this point, her hands shaking in her haste to get a light. “That is…a whole other fucking…-!”

-Flick-Flick-Flick-

Her teeth clenched against her sweet relief as the flame finally ignited, sizzling at the white tip of her addiction, turning it red, making it glow…She closed her eyes and took it in, ditching the lighter to the floor.

A deep inhalation. A trembling sigh of smoke. Ashes slipped to the wooden floor.

Her lungs seized up and she coughed. It hurt good.

She pounded at her chest, realizing how sore her left boob was – another bruise from her scrap with a fellow student. Kind of understandable, given that she’d ‘accidentally’ destroyed the life of his friend.

Uncle Malik was smart. He was quiet. He let her smoke her cigarette in peace for a bit, going back inside without any retort. Let her absorb the fire, the smoke, the nicotine. It helped steady her, for a time.

By the time he approached her, she was hunched over the picnic table set over the patio. Not sitting at it, but leaning over one of its heads, her elbows carving out her shame into the boards. The evening air was chilled, and Coral's spine tingled with remorse as it washed over her, bathing her – drowning her – in isolation. Her red and blue flannel shirt wasn't providing much protection from the cold.

She heard the screen door swing open, but didn't look to see who it was. Kat was at a sleepover, and Zeke was out at a movie. What she wasn't expecting, however, was the familiar sound of full beer bottles clinking together.

She looked over her shoulder to see Malik popping off a bottlecap with his keychain. It rattled against the patio floor.

-Tik, tiktik...-

Coral's arms tightened at the sound – like an empty bullet shell dropping.

The cold bottle of beer was set down by her left hand. A cigarette was loosely hanging from her right, though the hands were currently crossed by overlapping forearms.

Coral coughed a bit as she took one last drag.

-Tik, tiktik...-

She dropped her cigarette to the boards, crushing it beneath her boot. It rested alongside two dented bottlecaps.

“Littering,” Coral mumbled with some light humor as Malik sat down on the table's bench to her left.

“I won't tell if you won't,” Malik slyly replied, wresting his hands around his bottle. He was waiting for her.

Coral took the brown glass between her fingers. It was relaxing, just holding it. She'd been abstaining from booze during her Police Academy training...but fuck it. No point holding back now, eh?

Groaning from her body creaking in pain, Coral warily sat down. She sniffed at the bottle, glancing at the brand: {Kokanee} {Glacier Fresh Beer}

Coral found herself hankering for something stiffer, more bitter-hoppy, but she'd take what she could get. The mild liquid was indeed cold and felt fresh against her sore throat, tumbling into her empty pit of a stomach. She could practically feel her first few gulps – taken in quick succession – seep right into her bloodstream with how empty her stomach was. She came back for air, gasping with a cough.

“Whoa, easy, Tiger,” Malik teased quietly, nursing a single sip from his own bottle.

Coral let the bottle slap against the table with one hand while her face sagged into the other, propped by a sore elbow.

Gazing off at the residual light of the recently set sun in the distance, Coral's eyes moistened as the weight of the past twelve hours crashed down on her. Her life was fucking over. Everything she'd planned to do with herself, undone in an instant. Even worse? Someone else's life was fucking destroyed in the process. She couldn't just fuck something up, no, she had to completely smash it to bits, and the shrapnel hit everyone nearby.

“Hey,” Malik pulled her from her brooding. “Why'd you come here?”

“...Eh?” Coral sniffed. Her eyes were all watery. Fuck. If she went to wipe away the drops he'd know for sure she was starting to cry. Nope.

“They're worried about you,” Malik explained, and she knew he meant her parents. “My phone was going crazy. They're on their way here to come get you.”

“Mm.” Coral nodded complacently.

“Why didn't you go home in the first place?”

Coral sucked in the twilight air through her wide nostrils, scratching an itch behind her ear. She gulped some more beer before she replied, shaking her head downward.

“How am I supposed to face them?”

“Cory...”

“No, for real. What do I fucking say? 'Sorry?'” More headshaking. More beer. “Nuh-uh,” she grunted out as she swallowed. “That ain't gonna cut it, eh? I don't-...Pffff.” Her fingertips dug into the skin on her forehead as she gaped, wide-eyed, at the 'litter' they'd left on the patio.

“Well.” Malik sighed, rubbing his hand against the five-o-clock shadow on his neck. “I know what they'll say, and it's the same thing I will: it's all right. We love you.”

“Chyuh-” Coral choked on a sob. Like she didn't know that. She knew that. That wasn't the problem, here. “Glad someone fuckin' does,” she eked out, the first two tears finally rolling down her cheeks. “'Cuz I sure as hell-...Guh-” Coral rubbed her sleeve across her face, struggling to stay steady. Fuckin' eh, she'd come to Uncle Malik to avoid this sorta shit...He'd gotten her a beer and everything, and she just-...

Go figure.

“You're going to get through this,” Malik encouraged, letting her wrestle with her own impulse to start bawling. “You've got your whole life ahead of you. This was one path you could've taken, and...it didn't work out. There'll be others.”

That was all her Uncle said for a couple of minutes. He slowly chipped away at his drink. Just being there was good enough. Saying what he had was good enough. That beer? That fucking mild, pussy beer was good enough, too. And shit, it was hitting her like a sucker punch. And it hurt good.

The sound of an engine approached from the distance – from the opposite side of the house. Coral's stomach lurched at the sound of tires crackling against gravel. They were here.

“That must be them,” Malik guessed, setting his half empty bottle down and getting up. He entered the kitchen through the back screen door.

Coral remained, stirring in her stew of self-loathing and doubt. 'Others,' he'd said. 'There'll be others.' Other what? Other fucking dead ends? Other pointless laps in circles of bullshit? Other chances to screw everything up...

The muffled speech from the house behind her grew quiet as Coral drummed her fingernails against her cleaned out bottle. She tipped it up and back, absent-mindedly going to drink droplets that wouldn't find their way to her thirsty lips.

The screen door creaked open behind her. She rubbed her palm across her dampened face and huffed a tired huff.

Then quick footsteps clapped against the boards, closing the distance to Coral's back.

“Coral, my Sweetie...” Her mother's weight pressed against her back. Her mother's perfume was oddly calming. She reached up a hand and clasped it over Mom's wrist, closing her eyes as she leaned her head into Mom's forehead. “Are you OK?” her mother whispered. “You're not hurt?”

“Mm,” Coral eked out, a intentionally misdirecting answer.

“Oh, good,” Mom breathed out shakily. She sighed out a drawn out, exhausted 'Oh' and her hands found their way slipping off Coral's cap, running fingers across her daughter's cornrows. She kissed Coral's head. All the while, Coral kept her eyes closed. She didn't want to see the pity, the disappointment...

She could hear her Father and Uncle muttering to each other from inside. The fridge door opening. More bottles of beer. She hoped one had her name on it. She could hear the popping of caps. It unnerved her.

“What happened?” Mom asked gently, still petting her child's head.

“Mom...” Coral whimpered out. “I don't...-”
“That's fine,” Mom instantly accepted. “You're right, I'm sorry.”
“No, it's not...-” Ugh. Coral slipped a sigh through her nose.
“It's all right.”

There was that pity in Mom's tone. Usually reserved for her cousins, without a Mom to dote after them.

-Tik, tiktik...-
Another bullet shell.

“There ya go, Bub,” her Dad mumbled warmly over her shoulder.

-Tok-
A fresh magazine in a glass brown casing was ready to be loaded. Ready to be fired. More rounds shot off in the campaign against herself.

As Mom released Coral, like a lion setting its cub down, Dad gave her a firm slap on the back, which she took without a reaction. She went right for the new bottle of beer and chugged down two large gulps, gasping for breath as everyone took their seats around her. She kept avoiding their eyes. Avoiding saying anything. And they were fine with this.

Rather than ask about the incident, they began talking about what came next. Arrangements to get Coral's personal belongings from the Academy. Helping her find new work. Find her own place to shack up in – but of course she could stay in her old room for the time being.

Coral wasn't sure which was better: focusing on getting back up on her feet or dwelling on how she'd tripped in the first place.

It didn't matter either way. All Coral really wanted was to drown in a tide of alcohol beneath a smokey sky. And that's what she did that evening.

---

- Friday, November 21st -

[Coral: So when's my last day?]

[Vince: tomorrow, if that works for you.]

[Coral: Yep.]

[Vince: still at the same address?]

[Coral: Yep.]

[Vince: i'll have the last check mailed out asap.]

Coral left her phone to sit after reading this message. She continued cranking at the wheels in her standalone exercise bike. Her legs were really burning now. It hurt good.

The TV in front of her was playing a hockey game: Islanders vs the Penguins. She was rooting for the Penguins, mildly, but more for their animal mascot than anything else. Fucking Kat...Hell, screw that, then, maybe she'd root for the Islanders, instead.

Like it mattered who the fuck she wanted to win.
Or even who won.

While many things had rubbed off on her from Dad, Coral had never really picked up on the superstitions of sports cheering. She'd root for a team, sure, especially the Maple Leafs or the Canucks, for obvious reasons (those two terms weren't shy about repping the Great White North), but she wasn't fanatical about it. She followed hockey for the entertainment more than any investment in a particular team.

Her phone vibrated from the coffee table again.

Argh, what now?

[Vince: so are we going talk before tomorrow or what?]

There's nothing to talk about. I fucked up, stepped on your goddamn delicate toes. I get it, it's got, it's done, we're moving on. Past is in the past, man.

Coral once again feigned ignorance, not bothering to reply, pushing the exercise pedals without losing her rhythm. The Islanders scored a goal. Yea, fuck those Penguins.

-Rrrrmmmm-

“Motherfucker,” Coral groaned through her deep breaths. Still peddling, she scooped up her phone again, ready to tell Vince off, but...-

[Aaron: sounds like you got a new job lined up then?]

[Coral: Nah, son. It fell through.]

[Aaron: owch. Sorry. going to stay with your parents while you look?]

[Coral: I hope not. They don't know.]
[Coral: Wait you haven't told Kat or Zeke. Have you?]

[Aaron: no? I didn't know it was secret tho.]

[Coral: DO NOT tell them. I'll figure shit out.]

[Aaron: if you say so..]
[Aaron: why?]

[Coral: It's not their business.]
[Coral: I shouldn't have told you. Even.]

[Aaron: but you needed to tell somebody. I undersand it's ok.]

[Coral: I guess.]

[Aaron: they love you you kno.]

[Coral: That's nice but it doesn't fix anything.]

[Aaron: I didn't say it does but they are there for u.]
[Aaron: zeke worries but he hides it well.]
[Aaron: even kat is too. Shes mad sure but she is still there.]

Coral was getting quickly irritated with this conversation. Sweat dripping down her face, hair strands clinging to her cheeks, she glared with uncertainty at Aaron's reply. After setting the phone down, she grabbed a small towel and water bottle from the floor and drank with one hand, wiping off sweat with the other.

After letting her head cool off in every sense of the word through some stretches, Coral turned down the volume on the hockey game. She'd been watching but not really paying much attention. Picking up her phone, Coral did something she hadn't done in a long time: she visited her cousin Katrina's Facebook page.

A Harry Potter quote...some song lyrics...A bunch of comments about some kind of show? Mm. She seemed like she was doing OK. Lots of dudes flirting with her, too, over this 'band' thing she was in. Her relationship status still was set to 'Single,' though. Her own choice, Coral decided, based on how much attention she seemed to be getting.

Whoa, wait, wait. Hold the fuck up. Who was this red-head in drag she was holding hands with in these photos? The album was titled 'Homecoming Junior Year'. Fancy clothes and shit. This must've been that 'Jane' kid she'd heard about. Well, shit, he looked—erh, she looked a lot dorkier than Coral had been led to believe. How was someone like that in military training? In a gang? Coral found it hard to believe. Looked like a tranny, for sure. Which was fine – Coral didn't really give two shits what junk a person had, it was what they did with it that counter. Coral was just confused by what Kat was doing with a person who clearly had so many issues going on.

Oh, wait. Fff. Duh. She'd just answered her own question.

Mm. Coral did have a weak spot for the red hair...Was it natural, though? All the freckles on the kid's face pointed to 'yes.' They looked really chummy in these pics. Maybe Kat had finally told dudes to take a hike and try out ladies? Would be about time. Coral had always pegged Kat for a lesbian-in-denial, anyway. Well, 'Jane,' aka 'James' seemed like a dorky fit for a dorky girl, so Coral supposed she approved.

She was interrupted from her internal assumptions by another text from Aaron.

[Aaron: have you thought of moving away? Somewhere else?]

Coral paused. Well, sure, she had. Vancouver was nice, but yea, a change of pace might be good. Maybe it was a good time for a big change. She'd been living in ol' Vancity for...what? Five years? Ish? She'd miss the weed a bit, but, meh. She wasn't too big into all that to begin with, so not really a loss. Where the fuck else would she go, though?

Coral went to her fridge as her brain burned with possibilities. She kind of still wanted to keep bartending, just...somewhere else. After surveying the contents of her fridge, she set her phone down, and began pulling out ingredients. Milk, Kahlúa, vodka...After mixing together a White Russian for herself, she swallowed a sweet gulp of it with one hand and scooped up her phone in the other.

[Coral: Haven't thought a lot on it but yea, it's possible.]

As she took a seat, savoring the clinking of ice against ice in a white pond, Coral paid her phone more heed than the hockey score.

[Aaron: it just sounds like you need a fresh start is all. A new leaf.]

Hm. Coral did like the sound of that – turning over a new leaf, letting the wind take her somewhere else. She kind of didn't care where. What would she be leaving behind, anyway? She had friends, but...not the sort worth holding her back from a change.

Things with Vince hadn't worked out, but it wasn't the end of the world. She was still young. There'd be other opportunities and shit.