Page 62 of Thirst

“Look, this is none of your business,” the man assaulting Aaliyah says as he continues fumbling with the latch on his pants.

What curse is this—that I should find my Companion hidden away at the top of a stripper pole after one hundred and twenty-six years of searching, only to walk in on her being assaulted by a rotund man in a wrinkled black suit? What spell has the world cast on me? Am I meant to feel only agony in this life? Is my eternity destined to be filled with pain? If so, then the spell was done incorrectly, because I don't feel saddened at all. Finding her here with him has only enraged me in a way that will bring the worst forms of pain, agony, and curses to him.

Shawn and I pulled up to the venue thinking the place had cleared out sooner than expected. I figured it was the result of a brand new artist making their debut. Maybe it hadn't been a smashing success and Aaliyah would have to learn how to make the event better. I never thought I would walk in on a man trying to rape her. But that’s the scene. That is our reality.

A man is trying to rape Aaliyah.

The only person who has ever made my heart beat.

My Companion.

I take a breath.

Let us begin.

“No?” I say, my eyes bouncing back and forth between the man I've never met and the woman I'm fated to be with.

He has hit her.

I see the mark on her face.

“No, asshole,” he barks, trying to sound intimidating. “Me and my girl are just having some fun, and what we do in our private time doesn't concern you. We’re not into letting people watch us fuck. You're one of those cuckolds, aren't you? Well, we’re not into that, so go back out the way you came in.”

“This is … your girl?” I ask, amused by this ridiculous tactic of lying when faced with danger. Humans are so predictable.

“You’re damn right it is,” he answers, doing his best to play the role of a tough guy that he's not equipped for. I smell his fear, and it is abundant. “She's mine, and I don't take kindly to anybody disrespecting what’s mine. So bounce.”

“Bounce?” I say with a smile. “That’s not even how you talk … is it, Stanley?”

The man’s head tilts as he wonders how I know his name. He has no idea how in over his head he truly is. I've been listening to his thoughts since the moment he spun around to find me standing here. I know everything, because his mind is frantic and firing on all cylinders as panic makes him manic. He has been pep talking himself during our entire conversation.

“Stay calm, Stanley. Just keep it together and this guy won’t know a thing. There's no way he heard everything. Just be cool and he’ll go right back out the door. Wait … how does he know my name?”

Pathetic.

“Do we know each other?” he asks.

I take a step into the room. “I know you. I know you're currently wondering how I know your name. I know you're wondering exactly what I heard on my way in here. Now you're thinking about the fact that you let an hour pass and didn't see anybody come into the exhibit while you watched from outside, and you assumed that anybody Aaliyah had invited to see her art would've come by now. When you came back in, you were certain nobody was coming, and you could carry out your plan to teach her a lesson about what it takes to get ahead—how she wouldn't see her dream realized without sleeping with you first. Now you're shocked that I know so much and you're wondering how it’s possible. You're questioning if I can read your mind. Now that it’s clear I can, you're wondering if I know about the duffel bag you have on that bench. Do I know about the rope you put in it to tie Aaliyah up so you could carry out your fantasy on her? You even put a vibrator inside because you planned to bind her and use it on her. There's even a flogger in there, with red leather tails. Apparently, you think you're the Black Christian Grey. You like bondage and torture, and you were sure tonight was the night you'd get to play. Now your plans are ruined because I showed up. You're a sick, misogynistic, rapist piece of shit. Oh, and lastly, you think I somehow inventoried the contents of the bag … and didn't notice the gun.”

As if he was just shot out of a cannon, Stanley darts to his right. He lunges for the bag like I'm chasing him, but I'm not. Instead, I watch with amusement as he snatches up the bag, plunges his hand inside, and struggles to grab what he's searching for. He pulls out a white rope and slams it on the ground, then does the same with the red flogger. Lastly, and with a satisfied look on his pudgy face, he pulls out a black handgun. He struggles to cock it, but once he manages, he points it at me as Aaliyah’s mouth drops open and her eyes widen.

“Oh my god,” she says as she tries to open the door behind her, but she doesn't know it needs a key even from the inside.

“Don't move,” Stanley bellows, his hand trembling as he aims the gun. “I don't know who you are, or how you read my mind like that, but I'm not here to play games. This girl tried to seduce me, and I was just taking her up on her offer. She’s just a stripper. But it doesn't matter now, because she will never have an exhibit in this state. It’s over for her, and it’ll be over for you too if you don't get out of my way and let me leave. If you can read minds so well, then you know this gun is loaded and that I'm not afraid to use it. It’ll be self defense, and I have the best lawyer in Philly. I won't spend a millisecond in jail. If you want that nasty whore, you can have her. Just move out of my way so I can leave.”

Nasty whore.

His words are his death sentence.

“What if I don't let you leave?” I inquire.

Stanley takes a step back but keeps the gun raised. “I'm leaving. Even if I have to shoot my way out. Don't even take a single step closer to me or I swear I’ll send you straight to hell.”

A smile takes over my face. “Oh, I've been there already. That threat doesn't move me. But the idea of killing you definitely does. Not a single step closer? Like this?”

Playfully, I look down at my foot, drawing Stanley’s eyes there too as I slowly slide my left foot forward. I inch it up, still smiling as my foot glides … then I lunge forward. I reach out to grab Stanley’s throat, and just as I my fingertips graze his skin, the gun goes off.

Bang.