I Became Her

Chapter 21 -The Laughter-

I take the article taped underneath the note and read the news bulletin that states ‘Young woman found dead in Las Vegas hotel suite.’

This is me. This is about me. The article itself doesn’t say much about how Alexie Shaw was found or what happened, but it said that the cause of death is still unknown, and police will be looking into it.

I pull the note from my door and take the papers inside with me.

Shai managed to kill me. Not literally, but at least the world will know. Well, I don’t actually care about the world, I want Duncan to think I am dead.

After a shower and a quick bite to eat, I swallow my pride and go and knock on Shai’s door.

She opens and I am sure we both feel the awkwardness that lingers between us. It’s been almost a month and we still don’t know where the other stands. Are we angry, are we cool or something entirely different?

“Thank you for killing me,” I finally say to let her know why I came.

“I killed Alexie.” She gives me a smile that is barely there. “I actually owe you an apology,” she says with her eyes switching constantly between mine and the floor. She is feeling uneasy, and it shows.

“We can forget about it. It doesn’t matter anymore.” Well, it doesn’t matter to me, but I can see she has some unsolved issues with that. I don’t want her to drag this out from the past, I just wish we could all move on.

“Would you like to come in?” she steps aside, giving me a clear signal to accept her offer.

And I do. I nod and we both walk inside. It is quite the same floorplan as mine, but she has definitely put her stamp on it. Her decorating is not something I would do, but the colorful accessories and knick-knacks are making it homey and fascinating at the same time. To me, this seems like a home where people want to come and spend their time. Mine is still a little clinical and too clean to feel like you can relax and feel free in it. Right now, I envy her. She has made a home for herself, something I might not be able to do for a long time. I just don’t feel like I belong anywhere.

“Lex,” she says and gestures me to take a seat on the sofa while she is sitting down on the armchair. “I am f****d up in so many ways I can’t even put my finger on what triggers me to lash out,” she sighs heavily. “It’s just that you and him, together, alone.”

“Do you have feelings for him?” I think I know the answer if I had read her correctly.

She looks me in the eyes for a little while before letting out a breath and looking down with what seems like shame. “Feelings? Yes. But not the kind you think. I love him, but not in the conventional way. It’s more like I love to need him, I love to have him only to help me, save me. I suppose it can be categorized as some type of syndrome if I’d dare to look it up.”

As I listen to her speak, I find her apartment becoming less and less homey and more unhinged. So many colors on top of each other, so many random things cluttering the place and mirroring her confused mind. Like she wants to have it all, but her life can’t even fit the little she already has.

“I am sorry if I upset you, but I need him to train me.” I just threw that in before she says something even crazier and I forgot, because I really can’t lose him as a trainer. I need this for my sanity.

“I don’t want him as a man, so I am not jealous. He is just filling a void they left me with, and when he is not there, I lose it. I hate that I do, but it’s not that easy to fix the broken. Even if you try, the cracks remain and even the slightest nudge can crack them open again.” Tears glisten in her eyes and I can see the ugly creeping its way back into the sunlight.

“Tell me what happened?” Kane once said that her story is the worst he has yet to witness. Curiosity is not driving me; I just want to know how sick they can be, so I know what I am up against.

Color leaves her face, and I can see her weighing if she should confide in me. If she should let me in just a little more.

“I can’t talk about it. Not its entirety. But back then, they didn’t have the supply they have now, so they had to get more out of the one they had at hand.” Her eyes, fixated on random item in the room, but there is nothing in them and I feel horrible because I made the atrocities play out in her mind once again. “I was tied down for three days. After multiple surgeries, I was in a coma for a week. So yeah, I survived, but I never recovered.”

“I am so sorry,” I say quietly. Somewhere deep down I knew my question would only bring devastation to her, but my selfish reasons pushed me to ask it anyway. So, I guess I am sorrier for asking and taking her back there. I am not the right person to apologize for what happened.

“Life can suck, right?” She laughs for a beat and then her face fell again. “My head is messed up, so I might scream or cuss in the future as well. Hopefully you can forgive me in advance.” Another laugh emerges from her, this time it sounds more real than the last one.

“One day at a time seems too much, so let's take it one step at a time.” I won’t be a punching bag, but I do understand her. If some time in the future she needs to let her emotions run free again by lashing out, then that is when we will deal with it. No point in making promises of giving forgiveness now. “So, I am dead,” I say drifting the conversation in another direction.

“Yeah, well if you believe what you read in the newspaper,” she jokes.

“Won’t it be suspicious because it’s already been a few months since it happened, and I was allegedly found dead?” just something that crossed my mind.

“The article is dated back, so if they see it, they will think it was published two days after they left you. It wasn’t, but they will never know.” She is very sure of herself. I have my doubts though.

“What if someone decides to look into it?” I speak out another issue that might arise.

“Lex, it’s Vegas, they find someone dead in a hotel almost daily. No one will look up if there is an open case for Alexie Shaw or not. It might sound harsh, but no one cares.” She runs her tongue over her upper teeth under her lips. “If they ever search for your name, this will come up and that’s what matters.”

I know she is right. But what if people who knew me from back home search my name. What if my father finally realizes that he still has a daughter somewhere? Perhaps these questions are more of a dream than a worry, who wouldn’t want to think that someone misses them, cares for them enough to question their disappearance. But the hard truth is that I alienated everyone around me, and no one might ever look for me. Sad, but right now, it would be the best, because then my death would stay a lie that hurts no one.

“Do you know if he contacted the bank about the money?” This has been at the back of my mind for weeks now. Is he looking for the money? Is he looking for me?

“No and I can guarantee that he won’t do it. They haven’t been at the hotel either, so I guess he is hiding somewhere until he thinks this case has cooled down,” she tells with a satisfied look on her face. She was proud of what she did, and I am more than certain that she still is. Plus, there is no reason why she shouldn’t be. She gave me a new start and a shiny opportunity to go after these monsters.

“Thank you again,” I stand to excuse myself. “Like they say, let’s not let the past steal our present.” I say without believing it. The past is what makes our present, but it seemed like a nice thing to say. Perhaps she believes it.

Or not, cause she bursts into laughter. “Being poetic doesn’t fix my f****d-up head,” she says while continuing to laugh.

When she can’t stop her bubbling laughter, it becomes contagious, and I join her with a laugh that comes from very deep inside. From a place that I thought had been shattered for forever. It’s the place where all your happy memories are stored, all your jokes and giggles, all the joy you have ever experienced and all the hope for a better future. Knowing that I can laugh again, that I can feel joyful without apparent reason, makes my laughter even harder. Knowing that they didn’t take that away from me, feels like fresh air after spending weeks in a stuffy basement.

From a distance, we must look like two nutjobs, but this moment, right here, is what we both need. At that moment, I acknowledge her crazy and she accepts my broken. We are not the same, not even close, but we both have prevailed the evil that tried to annihilate our souls. We might not be as we were, yet we are still here, maybe not better, but stronger I believe.

With minutes passing by, our out-of-control laughter cools down as we try to catch our breaths. “I’m going. See you later,” I say not waiting for her to answer and walk out.

We are not normal, definitely not, far from it actually. Maybe our crazy is what makes us succeed in the end? Maybe being normal would hold us back from going after the social kings that make others suffer for their own pleasure? Maybe?

Back at my place, I can see the notification light on my phone blink, letting me know I have missed something.

There is a text message from an unknown number.

‘You’re in!’