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Not that it matters.
Apple walks to the table and picks up the syringe full of Xylazine and brings it to me. When I try to take it, she tightens her grip.
“You were right,” she says. “I can’t.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “I can.”
“Do you think less of me because I can’t?”
I drop the whip and cup her cheek. “I could never think less of you for being who you are. You’regood, Apple. So damn good. Stay that way.”
She nods and releases the syringe before walking to the door. It doesn’t slide open like she’s used to, and I tilt my head to indicate the scanner on the wall. She presses her hand to it and steps through the door once it releases.
Once Kyle and I are alone, I turn around and stalk toward him like a lion stalking its prey.
“What’s that?” he asks, terror finally seeping into his tone.
I lift the syringe. “This?”
He nods.
“Oh, it’s this new drug called Zombie-heroine. Or maybe you know it as Tranq.” I snap my finger. “Oh, wait. You probably know it is Xylazine.”
“I talked!” he uselessly shouts. “I gave you what you wanted.”
“You did.”
“Apple said you’d let me go.”
“She did.” When I’m right in front of him, I reach up and pat his cheek. “People lie, Kyle. But fortunately for you, you won’t ever have to deal with people again.”
I plunge the needle into his neck and inject him full of Xylazine. It’ll take time to kill him, but he deserves it. Apple was scared and sick and had no idea why. At least he knows.
As he begs and pleads for me to spare him, to give him naloxone and reverse the effects, I grin.
“Go forth, sinners' souls, from this world. May you suffer in darkness, may your home be in Hell, and may the Devil fuck you with his horns.”
“What happens now?”
It’s only been a few hours since I walked out of the Confessional, but I still feel like I’m buzzing with uncertainty at the unknown. I toss back the shot that Asher slid across the bar and signal for another. I’m not trying to get drunk, just dull the pain. I knew that people could be evil. Hell, Jason and Travis were proof enough of that, and they didn’t hide it. Kyle and Mara, however, hid it very well.
I never dreamed that evil ran so deep. They did what they did with smiles on their faces and disguised themselves as friends.
“What do you want to happen?” Jez asks, taking a shot with me.
What do I want?
I stroll over to the high-top tables, away from Asher and with Jez in tow, her computer still in her hands. I swear she’d have that surgically attached as another appendage if she could.
“I want Mara to know she didn’t beat me.” My head drops, but I slowly lift my chin so she can see the determination in my eyes. “I don’t want to kill her, especially since we can’t find any evidence against her other than Kyle’s word, but I want to hurt her, ruin her somehow.”
I can’t believe I’m actually thinking like this, let alone that I said it out loud. But I’m not worried because no one is paying any attention to us. A couple of members tipped their beers in greeting, but for the most part, everyone is giving us a wide berth.
Jez stares at me for a long moment before nodding her head. She cracks her neck, stretches her arms with her fingers interlocked, cracking them as well, and then starts clicking away on her computer, a sardonic grin spread across her face. If we weren’t friends, I’d be scared right now. Her hands dance across the keyboard, and small chuckles escape past her lips every once in a while.
“Done!” she announces after several long minutes.
I scrunch my face in confusion. “Done?”
