selene macleod

“Aim for the heart.” Dee’s damp hands close over mine and I’m embraced by summer sweat, beer breath, clean laundry. She’s taller; her breasts and belly press against my back. Soft, but hard inside, like when you accidentally bite your fork as you chew. “Line it up. Aim careful, like pointing your finger.” Dee backs […]

“Wait.”

Acrid smoke smell, dry texts and notes on fire. Rank. Below that, smells of dying: shallow spreading pools of coppery blood and sour piss drying in the crotches of his tormentors.

My hand creeps forward, as if I could stop this.

Cody gives a little jerk and my stomach drops. Breathe deep, heart jacked up to amphetamine levels, my own bowels loose and threatening. Death wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for that indignity. We’ve talked about this in furtive conversations, hushed and embarrassed. What it would be like to leave everything behind.

Goosebumps rise on my arms, neck and shoulders and I’m aware of time passing. It’s quiet enough to hear Cody’s watch tick-tick-tick seconds away. Other muted sounds: doors bang, people scream, footsteps run running run faster so he won’t find you. My thoughts fly to them. I can forgive them, because nothing is worth this.