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Chapter 4 - Part One: Chapter Three

Thursday, December 4th(Day and Night)

There wasn't much that Tim thought of when he woke, his nose dry and crusty with red flakes. Guess he didn't fully clean the blood out from last night. He slammed his hand on his alarm clock and quickly got up, didn't bother putting on his clothes or taking a shower or brushing his teeth, he just headed for the kitchen, where he could hear his mother hurrying. 

The morning was the only time he really had a chance to see her, so he tried his best to see her out every day. It was what gave him the boost he needed to endure the rest of the day, not that he'd need it today—wasn't going to school. Still, it was best to see her face, feel her tender, warm embrace; it felt like a pair of warm mittens you'd put on your hands in a cold, unrelenting blizzard. It makes you feel something, the blood in your veins, the soft fabric against your skin, and pain in your joints, a good pain though; it was all better than the bleak nothing numbness that Tim had in his hands. Something to feel, it was…good. 

His mother was young, in her early thirties. Tim remembered that she said that he had him when she was around twenty-one twenty-two, his father the same age. Tim was thirteen, so (quick maths) that meant she was maybe thirty-four or five. She still looked like she was in her late twenties though; it was her wavy brown hair and soft skin that gave the illusion. Aside from that, it was her tired eyes that aged her a year or two, dark from constant work and little or no sleep, or from the alcohol.

"Morning, Tim." His mother smiled, her hands rushing over for her keys. "I got a call from your school. Were you feeling ill?" 

"Yeah, I wasn't feeling so good." 

"Are you still feeling sick?" 

"A little better, I guess." 

His mother glanced at him, setting down her things. She went up to him and set her hands on his shoulders.

"Anything happening in school?"

"...Not really."

There was a short moment of silence. His mother sighed, embracing Tim for a little while. 

"You don't have to go to school if you don't want to, just keep up with the work. Okay?" 

"Thanks, Mom."

"I'll be home late, but there's food in the fridge."

"Alright…" 

"Kay, I love you." 

"Love you too." 

She released him and quickly got her things, waving goodbye as she hurried out the door. Tim wished that she stayed for a bit longer, but he didn't whine or anything, didn't beg for her to stay; there wouldn't be a point. Work, work, work.

If only jobs didn't exist…

Then his mother would be with him, watching television and eating with him, listening to his worries, and comforting him. Joquin and his bastard friends wouldn't be a problem either, Tim wouldn't even need to deal with them since they wouldn't see each other, school not existing and all since there wasn't a need for jobs. A stupid world though. Everything would crumble in days just so Tim could be happy. It was selfish. 

He wondered; that girl from last night. What did her parents do? Maybe he would ask if she was there. But what was he thinking, getting his hopes up like that? She wouldn't be there, probably just a one-time thing. She was weird though, talked weird, and acted weird. Who in their right mind would wear that in the cold of night, but at the same time, maybe she wasn't thinking. Still, she was just…strange. 

Tim walked up to the window next to his door. She said that she lived across Turf Avenue, about two houses down, but Tim could still see it. It was that house that was on sale for about a year or two. His neighbors said that it was because of a mold infestation or rats, one of the two. It was an ugly little building with old, old outer walls that screamed for someone to knock it down, and a roof that looked like the tiles were going to fall and kill any child that dared to stand near. The windows were covered up as well with thick black curtains. 

Those weren't there before. 

That girl and her family must've installed them. Maybe the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Tim had never seen curtains like that; it just made the windows pitch black like that. Just weird. 

There wasn't much that he had planned for today; he was just sitting around and doing nothing. He went to the kitchen cabinet, there wasn't anything particularly enticing about any of the foods, but he grabbed a box of plain Cheerios; eating was better than doing nothing. He poured the plain cereal into a bowl and poured in milk from the fridge, almost dropped it because of his weak, scrawny little arms, but he managed. 

There wasn't anything good on the television like yesterday, but Tim wasn't surprised. He placed the bowl against his lap, pressed firmly together so as not to spill the milk, and switched the channel. Next, next, next, next, next…

…He placed the bowl in the sink, didn't bother to wash it—didn't feel like it. 

So tired…

Yes, sleep. Nothing else to do but sleep. He'd rest for a while, then maybe go for a walk, snatch some candy from the gas station while he was at it. He would have to do it a little after four though, didn't want to risk running into those bastard pests. 

***

She was frustrated, but she didn't want to do anything about it, not after all he had heard. But still, she had to do something. Talk it out, maybe? Yeah, that was probably the right course of action. 

Enya took a breath before entering her homeroom. She didn't wear her backpack; rather, she held it by the upper strap next to her thigh. She didn't want the other kids in her class to see it; it was nothing short of embarrassing. It was a lovely black backpack that she had bought with her own money; she saved up by doing extra chores around the house. She was excited when she bought the wonderfully pretty bag, it being made from her own, hard-earned money made it…special to her. It was stained with some sort of brown liquid, chocolate milk maybe. She hoped it was chocolate milk; she heard rumors about how horrible the boys' bathrooms were. Shit stains on the floor, walls, and toilets. Gross, gross, gross, gross! Her belongings were in a worse state, though; her notebooks ripped and crumbled, stained with that brown liquid, her pencils broken or missing, and her lunch money stolen. It was a good thing she had her phone in her pocket that day. Who knows what she would've done to it? 

Enya walked by on the edges of the classroom; thankfully, none of the people waiting noticed her. They were all busy talking with each other to realize that anyone had just stepped into this stinky, stinky room. 

She hesitated before sitting in her seat. That girl with her dumb little earbuds. That thing. That creature. Enya was mad. This girl had just ripped up her savings, chewed it up like a nice burger from McDonald's, and spat it back in her face because McDonald's is really, really disgusting. However, as much as she wanted to confront her about the issue, she couldn't. Her body refused to obey her brain's desire, for her body's desire to protect itself was far stronger than her brain's urge to talk to Renee. So, she sat down quietly. 

She made sure that her phone and lunch money were in her pocket and waited for class to start, her eyes scanning the classroom from one side to the next. She was scared though. Had she known that she was sitting next to a person like Renee, she would've asked her homeroom teacher to move seats, to be safe from that monster of a lady. 

She broke Susie's finger…broke it…what was she going to do to me!?

Enya jumped as Renee let out a yawn, covering her mouth with both her hands before resting her chin back on her palm. She didn't seem scary before, but after hearing those words from Susie and seeing that everyone was avoiding her in the classroom, she looked like a completely different person, a demon in a girl's body. 

Oh…?

Enya watched as Susie stepped into the classroom. Her face brightened, and she gave her a gentle wave. Susie returned the favor, giving Enya a polite smile and a small wave.

"I never thanked you for paying for my lunch yesterday—..." 

Enya shut up, seeing Susie's alarmed expression. 

"Hmmmm?" Renee's eyes tilted towards Enya, then to Susie. 

Enya could feel the air grow thicker as Renee's gaze narrowed on Susie; you could practically cut it with a butter knife. A few cracks emanated from Renee's knuckles, and Enya prepared for the worst, her soul prematurely beginning to leave her body. But there was nothing.

Renee closed her eyes and pressed on her phone a little, presumably adjusting the volume of her music. 

Enya let out a little sigh, and she looked at Susie, her face still frightened. 

"Sorry…let's talk later."

"It's fine…" 

***

She looked in her mirror, feeling a little discouraged. She thought that surely they should've been bigger, larger. Her mother's, absent as she was, were well developed, admirable even, but here were Susie's, just nothing to show. She ran her fingers up her bare chest, avoiding the huge bruise on the left side of her upper ribcage; a faded black and dark purple spot on a pale white canvas. She felt a pain in her finger as she clutched her chest. Forgot that she didn't have her finger cast on. 

She said a soft ouch and grabbed the small, blue cast from her nightstand, gently sliding it over her badly bruised finger. The doctor said that she only needed to wear it for a couple of weeks; it was a clean break; none of the bone had actually broken; they were just badly fractured. 

She thought about telling her mother that it was Renee who broke her finger, cut her hair, and beat her, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. Besides, what did her mother care anyway? Ever since Dad was out of the picture, she was just a stranger in the house, a stranger who needed school and the occasional lunch money and doctor/dentist visit. Susie couldn't remember the last time she talked to her mother; all her attempts were just met with a bland reply or a simple nod, just the bare minimum of engagement. There was no love in her house, just "hey, I guess I gotta take care of you until college". 

At least if she had a good body, she could've had a boyfriend from whom she could feel some kind of love. But she didn't. The mirror was kind enough to show her that. Just a skinny, skinny girl with nothing really good to show. She had a decent face, or at least that's what she thought. No acne, just some fairly smooth, clear skin. She didn't like her hair though, or what it was now. Renee gave her two options: another beating or a free haircut. It was uneven and short; the only part that Renee really spared was her bangs, but even then, Susie hated how it looked. 

She didn't think that having someone cut your hair would've been that bad, but it was, it really was. It was humiliating, having her hair just forcibly shredded like that, but it was better than having another broken bone. 

She dropped her arms down to her sides. It was concluded, absolutely no changes, none whatsoever. There was even a little curve, just a flat chest and flat ass. 

Carpenter's dream…

She smiled. It wasn't a funny thought, but she smiled anyway. 

Was there a point in even going to school? She hesitated as she ran her arms through the arm holes of a T-shirt. There was a point, but she still didn't want to go. She really didn't want to go. She didn't want to face that horrible, horrible girl.

Why'd she need to be so stupid, just why? It was the right thing to do, but never in her life had she regretted doing the right thing in all her life. One word, that all it took, one word, and her life became a living hell. She hated it, thinking about that poor girl. She probably still didn't have any friends; she didn't seem like the social type, but her life was a whole lot better than hers; she was at peace, and Susie envied her. She hated it, she really hated it, she really, really, really hated that this girl stole her peace, stole whatever chance she had to living without that terrible girl. That was…unfair though. Susie knew that. She was to blame; she was the real reason for all her suffering, not that poor girl or Renee; she was solely responsible. That's right, good-for-nothing scum, she was.

Renee grabbed her by the hair after she beat her bloody, but she was smart. She didn't punch her face, just everything from the neck down. With one more punch to the gut, Renee leaned in to her ear, whispering, "You stupid, stupid girl…"

She thought that at least that girl was safe now, that she was strong enough to handle Renee…oh, how wrong she was. 

She lay back down in her bed; she'd just skip school today. No harm in that, just one day, just a break from the torment. But…that girl from yesterday. 

Enya…

She was a stupid girl, yes. She was a really, really stupid girl. A stupid, cheery girl with her bubbly smile and chirpy voice. Susie didn't know why she stuck her neck out for a girl like her, thought she had learnt her lesson, but guess not. She didn't really know what to feel. She wasn't empty, she knew that, but she wasn't sad or frustrated either. It was…pleasant. That Enya girl was…nice. Sure she was an airhead and couldn't read the room for the life of her, but she was a nice airhead. 

Maybe school wasn't such a bad idea. She knew that it would probably lead to future harm, but right now, she didn't care. She spent her time in middle school mostly alone—didn't feel like talking after Dad left—and now she was completely isolated in high school. Renee made sure of that. For the first time in years, Susie felt…seen, liked even. It was a feeling that she wanted more of, a feeling that she desperately needed, no matter the consequences. 

So, she got up from her bed and prepared her things for school.

***

Tim put on his boots before he headed out, tying the laces extra tight to make them nice and snug. He knew that he'd look stupid wearing a hoodie, it being late spring and about eighty degrees outside, but it was the best attire for snatching candy. You just stuff the candy in that giant pocket or down your pants, the clothes being so baggy that no one can really tell what's in them unless you took something boxy and stiff. The old man at the station wouldn't care anyway, Tim knew that for sure. 

It was a simple process: just spend a couple of bucks on a pack of gum or something, but hide the real goods. Sure, he was still spending money, but that was just to cover up the fact that he had ten candy bars stuffed in his hoodie and underwear. Felt like a real master thief, he did. He imagined himself being like that Gentleman Thief—what was his name? Tim remembered reading a book based on it: it was French or something. Arsène Lupin: that was his name. Tim was like Lupin, the notorious candy thief of the gas station. 

He chuckled. What a stupidly funny thought to have. 

Made sure that the door was locked, but not before checking that the house key was underneath the welcome mat. He has always made sure ever since he locked himself out of the house. He was getting a package when the closet suddenly just slammed shut behind him. He hadn't realized that he locked the door instinctively, and he had accidentally taken the extra key with him inside the house last time he used it to unlock the front door. It was a horrible, horrible predicament, but more embarrassing—who's that stupid to lock themselves out of their home? It was laughable.

Tim ended up spending the majority of the day waiting in the backyard—in front of locked sliding glass doors—for his mother to come home and save him from all the mosquitoes and other gross bugs. Ended up with red bumps and itches all over his body for days. 

It wasn't the same; walking on the sidewalk during the day just wasn't. It was hot (no duh, he was wearing a sweater in the blazing sun) and bright. It wasn't a good type of bright; it was the type of bright that makes you squint your eyes so that they won't be too overwhelmed by the light, the type where white concrete sidewalk reflects all that white light straight into your face. Tim remembered reading that people had to wear sunglasses in the snow; he didn't understand it at the time, but now he did. It was unbearable, this white sidewalk. He covered his eyes with a hand and continued up Brussels Avenue. 

His eyes eventually got used to the brightness as he took a left at Los Alisos Boulevard—still annoying, but at least it was bearable. He could hear track and field kids running around the school fences when he started to walk down the street. He wasn't one to keep track of sports seasons, didn't care much for it really. He had expected to see the football kids out practicing, but that must've been earlier in the year. 

Yes, yes, it was. 

He remembered it in the announcements last semester. They had lost some flag football game or something along those lines. He thought about joining a sport, but he decided not to when Joquin shoved his way into his life—fucking dumb bastard. Tim really hated him, but there wasn't anything he could really do to stop that stupid, stupid kid. Maybe if he caught him by surprise, waited in the bathroom until he saw his head, and smashed a book into his skull. Yes, yes, that's how he'd do it. He'd smash the book into his head and keep at it—smash, smash, smash! He'd keep pounding Joquin's stupid fucking head until the thuds and cracks slowly turned into squish, squish, squish. Blood would be all over the piss stained floors, his brains would be smushed onto the pages of the book, his eyes would be protruding out of his crushed skull, and his body would be twitching—gentle little twitches. 

It was a nice thought that Tim caught himself relishing in. If only…if only. It would never happen. Even if he found the courage to pull through with the assault, he'd still be caught, tried, and thrown in juvie. His mother would cry, drowning herself in a bottle of wine (something stronger maybe, like whiskey or rum), and Tim's life would be ruined. First-degree murder was something they put on your permanent record, and no one would want to hire a person like that, at least for a well-paying job. All that studying that Tim worked for would be for nothing if he pulled through with it. 

Ah…if only. 

The station was empty, thankfully. It was easier to snatch things when business was slower (obviously). He went in the bag like always, seeing that there were king-sized candy bars, some gummy bears, and some Trolli. He'd buy the Trolli since it made more sound in his pants or sweater. He stanched two Snickers, one Twix, three Kit-Kats, and a Bounty, stuffing the Snickers into his hoodie pocket while he shoved the Twix, Kit-Kats, and Bounty into his pants. The cashier wasn't the old man today; it was a young woman leaning back in her seat as she tapped away on her phone. Tim could've just walked out if he wanted to, but the young lady flipped her phone shut as Tim approached, setting the bag of Trolli on the counter.

"That all?" 

"Yes." 

She scanned the item.

"Two fifty."

Tim placed three bucks on the counter.

"Here's your change." 

"Thanks." 

He left, hurrying back to the sidewalk, and he took a left to the crosswalk. He had done it, and he'd taken a good amount too. The candy in his pants was rummaging around, so he put them in his sweater before pressing the button to cross the street. The master thief had succeeded in his objective. Now, he'd take the goods home and relish his harvest. 

…He saw a familiar face as he made his way down Brussels Avenue; it was another scrawny kid such as himself. He wore glasses and had bright blond hair, shiny and almost blinding beneath the sun. Conner was the kid's name. Tim didn't have any problems with Conner, but he didn't exactly enjoy his company either; he was just another kid in his class. Conner was the quiet type who avoided trouble, much like Tim, but the difference was that Conner was able to avoid trouble. It was nothing against him, but Tim still had a resentment, a jealousy towards the boy his age. 

"Didn't see you at school," Conner said aloud as Tim walked by. 

"Yeah…," Tim didn't elaborate any further. "What are you still doing?" 

"Nothing, nothing. Just walking down to the Gateway Center…"

That was the shopping center on Alicia Parkway. 

"Okay."

There was an awkward silence. Tim was a little surprised to hear Conner admit that he noticed that he was gone; maybe he was worried that he had finally reached his breaking point. No, it was probably just because there was nothing else to talk about. In some alternate universe, they could've talked about sports, comic books, or classes, but in reality, they were practically strangers. Their relationship stemmed from Conner occasionally witnessing Joquin ridiculing Tim, and then proceeding to badmouth the rat pack behind their back, afraid they might hear. 

"Anything happen in math or English?"

"You missed a pop quiz in math…and an essay in English."

"Hmm…" 

She must've rescheduled. It wasn't a big deal; Tim would talk to her about it the following week. 

More silence. It was embarrassing. They really didn't have anything to talk about. 

"Did you see the new neighbor?" Conner finally asked. "The one that moved into that shitty house." 

"No, I haven't." It was a fat and unnecessary lie, but Tim didn't really care. 

"It's some weird guy, my mom said that he looks like a crackhead." 

"Is that so…" 

That guy must've been her father; the girl from the playground. Crackhead, hu… 

"Well," Conner said, walking past Tim. "I'll see you later."

"...yeah, see you." 

***

Enya sat by Susie on a lonely bench, a soda in her hand. They didn't talk, and Enya found herself fidgeting with her hands around an empty soda can. Fifteen minutes of lunch had last by and no words exchanged. Thankfully, she had more classes with Susie than she did with Renee, so they were able to talk a little in between classes, but Enya found herself doing most of the talking. 

It could've been that Susie didn't actually enjoy her time being around her. Maybe she found her annoying, would rather be alone than spend another second talking to her. It made her stomach churn. That couldn't be, but yesterday could've just been a one-time thing. Then again, that was their only interaction. Once Susie had helped Enya dry her bag from the chocolate milk, she didn't see her for the rest of the day—disappeared, gone.

"I forgot to thank you for the help yesterday…," Enya eventually said, "again. So, thank you." 

"You're welcome." 

Susie set her soda can down, her fingers tightly intertwined with each other. She was embarrassed. Yesterday, she had made herself sound so confident: a strong-willed, smart person. Now she couldn't even speak without second-guessing herself—pathetic. It was the adrenaline that was leading her actions, her words, and her thoughts. What was she thinking? Really, what was she thinking? How could a girl like herself be able to talk to, let alone look at, a girl like Enya, this bundled-up bag of nonstop energy. 

"Hey…are you alright?"

Susie snapped out of her thoughts.

"Hu, what?"

"Just wondering if you're okay. You don't seem too well." 

"Oh…it's nothing, I'm just tried, that's all."

Enya smiled to herself a little, her eyes starring at her feet. She folded her thumbs ontop of eachother, rubbing her shoes together. 

"It's fine if you don't want to talk to me…you must be pretty annoyed. I get it; I'm a handful and got you in trouble." 

Susie jumped a little, shaking her hands cautiously. 

"No, no, no!" she said with a shaky voice. "You're fine, it's just that I'm—..."

"Hmmmmm?" 

The air grew dry, and a chill crawled down Susie's spine. It was like a snake's fang piercing into her back, paralyzing her, but instead of venom, she was being injected with fear. Only her eyes could move as she saw those haunting red streaks of hair above her. 

Enya only noticed the ominous girl as she heard multiple sets of footsteps coming in their direction. There were two others behind the beast, smiling smugly with their arms crossed. 

"You're what?" Renee smirked, putting a hand on Susie's shoulder. 

"..." 

Fear…that's all Susie could feel other than a sense of regret. It was her fault that Enya was going to have to watch this happen. Why did she have to be so selfish?

"Hey," Enya suddenly grabbed Renee's arm, pulling it off Susie's. "She clearly doesn't like it when you touch her." She was also afraid. She found her heart racing and her blood rushing, but she was still acted against her body's wish to run and never return. 

Renee let go, the smirk slowly fading away from her face. She glared at Enya, her eyes seemingly glowing with the anger and resentment of one thousand suns, a burning hatred for such a stupid girl. She balled up her fist. 

"Ohhh, this that so?" 

Enya gasped as Susie closed her eyes, flinching as Renee raised her fist. But she chuckled, resting her hand on Susie again. 

"You thought I was going to hit you?" she whispered in Susie's ear. "I'd love to…but you're not the one whose pissing me off." 

Susie's stomach churned as she realized the situation, and her eyes shone like a terrified little puppy in the rain, a lost, stupid little puppy without a mother or a home. She couldn't do anything but watch as Renee lifted her hand off her shoulder. 

***

Pain, an unrelenting pain growled through the girl's body. Three more hours until sundown, that's when she would go outside and act. 

Oh God…

That was a name she had not thought of or said in a very long time. The mere mention of God or Christ filled her heart with a certain type of anger, a deep hatred that she had not even thought she was capable of. It wasn't the type of anger that made her lash out, punching and kicking as she had done before in her frustration; it was a type of anger that boiled, an anger that grew and heated so much that it hurt. She still thought the name though; the pain was so unbearable. 

It was a slow churning pain that felt as if her cells were imploding in on themselves, and it hurt most in her stomach. It wasn't hunger; she was never hungry. It was just a pain that needed to be cleansed, even if it were temporarily. 

She pressed her hands against her stomach; it didn't help, but if she believed hard enough that it was working, it might. She pressed harder and harder, gritting her teeth until she heard a snap. She stopped, feeling her body. Nothing seemed wrong. 

She looked at the clock, her hands clenched. Not even thirty minutes had passed, and here her suffering felt like years. She needed to be preoccupied. It would make it feel as if timer were going faster, and if she didn't focus on the pain, maybe it would subside (she knew it wouldn't). 

She closed her eyes.

Thomas…are you there? Thomas…please answer me…please, please. 

Still nothing.

When she opened her eyes, she found that it was night. She had been out of it for at least three hours, and the pain had only gotten worse. But at least now she was able to act upon the pain. 

She forced herself up, limping to the door. She took a deep breath; it would be alright. She could do this, she could do this.

***

Tim didn't see his mother come home, and he stepped by the door, a little disappointed. He didn't eat the food in the refrigerator; he settled on the candy he stole from the gas station. He left a note on the dining room table that he was staying at Charlie's place for the night, a friend that Tim had made to keep his mother from worrying in case she got back home before he did. 

He was going on another night walk, relaxing in the cool air as he headed to that same playground across the street. This time, he brought a textbook with him to study for the pop quiz that Conner mentioned, but it was more like review since Conner had already told him what was on it. Tim had no doubt that his math teacher would make him take that quiz despite his absence. He didn't want to go back the following day, but he knew that he had to. It would be annoying if he had to do a bunch of make-up work during Christmas break. 

He could've just studied in his room, but there wasn't anything fun in that. He wanted to be outside, be at the playground beneath the moonlight. He didn't know what exactly urged him towards the night; it was just a want he had since yesterday. But maybe it wasn't the night that enticed him, after all, it wasn't the moonlight, the cool air, nor the darkness that filled his head, but that girl. 

He wondered if he would see her again, and he held his textbook in anticipation as he approached the playground 

"You again?" 

Tim turned his head, seeing that the girl was here at the playground, to his left leaning against the swing bar. 

"Yes, me again." 

The girl approached, her arms were tired, and her legs were a little weak. She looked sick, her arms thin and her cheeks sunken. She was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday, but her shirt was a little wrinkled. 

Tim walked back a little, holding his textbook tightly, and the girl came up to him. She was looking at something on him, maybe the textbook. 

"What's that for?" 

"It's for school." 

"Math?"

"Yes."

"What…"—she paused, taking another step closer—"class?" 

"Algebra One," Tim said, quite proudly. 

"Can I see?" 

"...I guess." 

Tim offered the book to the girl, but the girl didn't take it. She placed her hands on the heavy piece of text and drew her head closer to Tim's.

"What are you doing?" 

The girl paused again, their eyes meeting as Tim drew away. She stared at him, her pink eyes not breaking from his. She took a step back, as if he had seen a ghost. 

"Sorry," she eventually said. "I… just thought I saw a bug in your hair."

"Oh…" 

"Did I scare you? I'm sorry."

"No, but it was weird." 

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine, I guess." 

The girl rubbed her arm a little, a red blush forming around her nose. This was the only sense of color Tim had seen on her face. He set his textbook on one arm and scratched his neck. 

"What's your name?" Tim asked. 

The girl thought for a moment, as if she did not know her own name. 

"Lenah." 

"My name is Tim."

"Tim…short for Timothy?" 

"No, just Tim. Is Lenah short for anything?" 

"...No."

A growl emerged from Lenah's body, and her lightly placed a hand over her stomach, the redness in her face quickly fading away. 

"I'd better go," she said, quickly walking away. "It was nice to see you…Tim. I'll see you later." 

"Yeah…see you."

***

Matthew leaned against the metal railing as his buddy handed him a cigarette. There wasn't anyone out during this time, so there wouldn't be anyone to judge them as they got a good rush of nicotine.

"Light please?"

"It's out of lighter fluid," said his friend." 

"Bruh, you serious?" 

"Nah, I'm messing with you."

"Brutha." 

His friend, Zack, tossed him the lighter, and he caught it. He flicked the spark several times until he got a flame, then lit his cig, inhaling a couple of puffs of that good, good smoke.

"Imagine not lighting it first try?"

"Ha ha, well shut up." 

Zack chuckled and Matthew smirked, exhaling a warm mist of white smoke. 

"Did I tell you that Anthony got into a crash?" Matthew mentioned, tapping his cigarette ashes down the bridge. 

"Yeah, kinda funny. Said that he was going to be better than all of us." 

"It wasn't even his fault; some guy bumbed into him at a stop light." 

"A crash is a crash." 

"Aww, well."

"Has it been five months?"

"Hmm…I don't think so."

"Guess someone owes us In-n-Out then."

"He's not going to do that, he's Anthony."

"Aaaaaaaannnnnthhhhooonnyyyyyy!"

"Aaaaaaannnnnnnttthhhhhhoooonyyyy!"

"Imagine getting into a crash!"

"Litterally could not be us!"

Zack chuckled. He knew that it was true, but it was going to be fun rubbing it in. He could feel and hear the tracks beneath start to rattle as the next train started to come by. He tossed his cig over the bridge and gestured to Matthew that they should start going. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around, expecting to see Matthew's face, but he immediately pulled away, seeing that it was a girl's hand. He looked at Matthew, then back at the girl, but before he could scream or shout, the girl's grip on his shoulder grew tighter, and she started to drag him towards the railing. 

"What the fuck!?" Zack shouted. He tried to pull away, but the girl didn't budge, nor did she stop. His shoes slid against the sidewalk as he got closer to the railing. Was she trying to pull him over? The sliding continued. She was! She was! She was! She was! 

OH SHIT SHE IS! 

"Matthew, help! HELP!"

Matthew didn't hesitate, he grabbed into Zack's shirt and tried to pull him back, but he started to be dragged along with Zack. 

"What the heck is this girl?" Matthew screamed. He looked at the girl and balled up his fist. He didn't want to punch her, but he had to. He roared, slamming his fist towards the girl's face. She grabbed his arm and tugged.

They both struggled against the girl's unbelievable strength as the train raced against the tracks, and with one final tug, they were pulled off the bridge as she jumped off. 

Matthew felt the girl's cold grip release him once he flew off the edge, and he screamed, falling into the moving train. However, he just fell near the tracks. He couldn't move, but he could feel the pain coursing through his body. He couldn't process what happened. One little girl, one little girl, had done this. It was truly unbelievable. But here he was, dying next to a moving train. 

He closed his eyes, hearing Zack's blood-curdling cries above him. 

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