We casually turned to exit. The man who had remained silent the duration of the night stood up and shouted, “You’re going to pay for this!”
I pulled out the gun, cocked it, and pulled the trigger.
“No, I’m not.”
We sat in my apartment later that night. Caro glanced in the refrigerator to determine if there was anything edible. I was busy on my laptop, checking my bank account.
“There’s literally not a damn thing to eat in this apartment except a hot sauce packet, and I’m pretty sure even that is about to turn.”
“Yeah, I need to get groceries.”
“You. . . uh, went a bit off script tonight.”
“Yup.”
“I think Franklin’s going to be a little pissed.”
“You think?”
“Well, yeah. That was fun as fuck, but reckless, even by my standards.”
“What was the payout for tonight?” I asked.
“Two thousand.”
I turned my computer around to show her my balance, “He just paid us five thousand each.”
“Holy shit!” Caro said as she pulled my laptop towards her, “Hell, fuckin’, yes.”
“Right? Nothing to worry about.”
I strode across the room and collapsed onto my mattress on the floor on the living room. No sheets, just a comforter and a couple pillows. I pulled out a cigarette and lit it, blowing smoke up into the air above me. Caro made her way from the kitchen and onto the mattress where she laid down next to me, then reached over my shoulder and grabbed something.
“What’s this?” she said, pulling a book from a box behind my head. I glanced at what was in her hand. One of my great-grandmother’s journals, “Is this one of the books you were talking about?”
“Yeah, that and those under it are them.”
She flipped through the pages and read small sections while she laid on her back, becoming immediately engrossed in their content. I disregarded her and escaped into my thoughts, drifting away to sleep.
When I awoke, after what I assumed to be several hours, she was still there. She had several of the journals laid out and stacked on one another.
“You’re still here,” I said, half asleep.
“Yeah. . .” she said, as she found a stopping place, “This is some intense stuff. Reading this is like reading you.”
“What do you mean?” I said, getting up to grab my pack of cigarettes from the kitchen.
“The stories she tells about her family reminds me of your stories. Her husband sure was a piece of shit and her son wasn’t any better. The men in your family, I swear, are so twisted.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.”
“Look at this,” she said, sliding toward me, “One time her grandson came over to visit, and she found bruises all over him and his arm was broken. Hello, where the hell was CPS? Anyway, she healed him and found out less than two weeks later that he had been beaten again by his dad. Like this fuckin’ kid had it rough. His dad beats him, his grandfather molests him, just disgusting.”
“Yeah, the whole family is deranged, that’s why I like to keep my distance.”
“I can relate poor Christian.”
Heat shot up my spine and I felt drenching sweat overcome me. My hands shook and a familiar hue of red overtook my vision. I dropped to my knees, trying to calm my shadow as it attempted to escape.
“Caro, you need to leave as fast as possible.”
Caro did not argue, not even for a second. She knew better. She heeded my command without hesitation and was gone in seconds. Once I heard the door shut behind her, I let it out. Darkness overtook the entire room like a sheet of black smoke. A condensed energy erupted from me as my shadow wreaked chaos on my apartment. It grabbed one of my great-grand mother’s journals from the box by my mattress and began shredding it, it threw things, it broke things, punched things, it clawed at its skin, and screamed. I let it release its rage on everything. It was so angry and sad. Once it was done, it cowered in the corner with its knees to its chest. Never before had my shadow seemed so absolute, so separate from me, and fully formed. It was like being in the room with another person. It did not retreat back inside me, so I went across the room to retrieve it.
Looking at it in the corner was like looking at the worst parts of me after a rough night. It looked like a half manifestation of me, ghostly, but with tangible attributes. It seemed to be able to pick up and hold things at times, destroy things, up until now it was generally unseen by anyone but me. A few other flawed people had caught glimpses of it, but that was rare. It made noises, but rarely spoke words. If it desired to speak, it normally used me as its messenger. It had power, this explosive power that was like setting off landmines. When we had conflicting ideas, I let my shadow stray from me and do what it felt was necessary. However, at times we agreed and I let it stay inside me and have control. This was the case with Christian and with Abel. I would see my shadow frequently, almost daily. I knew I had the power to heal people, but it wasn’t something I had used to help someone, other than myself, in a very long time. My healing power is how I initially got noticed by Franklin but he seemed to have little use for it. I was just another flawed person for his collection.
I approached my shadow as it twitched and dug its nails into its being. It looked up at me, like a stray dog debating whether to run or come. I watched it for several moments, embracing the rare opportunity to study it. It glared up at me, almost angrily, and knelt up
