

### Daughter of Night

By Sasha McCallum

Copyright © 2018 Sasha McCallum

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords License Notes

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book please encourage your friends to download a copy from their favorite authorized dealer. Thank you for your support.

This is **not** erotica. This story is fictitious but it weaves mystical elements with sensitive, real subject matter which might upset some people. Characters, locations and incidents are the product of the writer's imagination, any resemblance to real people or events is coincidental.

Table of Contents

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3
Part 1

I attended a seminar on anger early in my career - suppressed anger, aggressive anger, passive anger. Expressions of it in all its forms, as described by the experts.

Much of the audience would have been people from my sphere of employment, those who had dealt directly with the results of episodic aggressive outbursts as well as the long-term effects of suppressed anger. Occupational therapists, social workers, counsellors, addictions clinicians, a few CP investigators.

None of the speakers talked about personal experiences; they studied it objectively - labelled, categorized, medicated; treated. It was common, of course, to hear professionals disconnected; it was protocol and the system was broken. Lacking in every respect, I felt cheated by the lectures, they contained nothing I couldn't have read in my own time. I didn't want textbook, I wanted personal, I wanted something to assure me that my work, as sedentary as it felt sometimes, was worthwhile. I didn't know how I expected them to do this but looking around at the other listeners I thought maybe they felt the same - disappointed and trying not to yawn, pick their nails or play with their phones. I remember the urge to stand up and scream 'fakes!' but the system had me in its grip too.

In the end, it was through a very different method that my frustrations were abated, my qualms buried.

Two years ago I would have described myself as professionally overworked and emotionally repressed, a combination that did not result in a particularly gratifying physical state. I might have said I was dull and lifeless. I had secrets but none that were especially unique.

Late on a grey Wednesday in August that began to change. A deeper secret started to manifest, a secret that would switch from deep to dark as well. What started as a barely concealed romantic obsession would lead me into an experience that blew my humdrum reality apart. Though I still don't understand it completely myself, this is the story of those events.

I'd been dating Mathew for about three months and this particular night he was waiting for me outside my building when I arrived home; it was the first time he had done it and I felt a sinking feeling in my chest. He greeted me with a kiss and I smiled weakly back.

"You really should have texted me," I said. "Tonight is not a good night, I've had a horrible day."

"I can make it better for you," he countered cheerfully. "I'll give you a backrub, run you a bath."

It sounded nice but what it really meant was that he wanted a backrub, I knew from experience that his were half-assed and performed only as an obligatory excuse to get one from me. I didn't love him and when they got serious enough to surprise visit me on a weeknight, offering to cure my problems, it was time to back away. I know this makes me sound like a bitch but simple bitchiness only scratched the surface of truth. I had wrongly mistaken Mathew for just as emotionally unavailable as I was.

My normal instinct was to put my own needs aside, invite him in and give him the company he clearly wanted but something was different about that night, I wasn't in my usual pushover state of mind. I stood awkwardly with my bags which, I noted, he did not offer to help me with, a detail that particularly irritated me. He lived only a few blocks over so it wasn't cruel to just send him away. Tonight was not the night for a breakup scene. A difficult case at work had me tired and depressed and all I wanted was to be alone. Mathew would try to make me talk about it, the absolute last thing I wanted to do.

"Tomorrow night, maybe. I need to make some calls and get an early night ...to sleep," I told him. Not a total fabrication.

He held his hands up in surrender.

"Alright, alright," he said and leaned forward to kiss me briefly again. "Call me if you change your mind?"

"Will do," I agreed with a smile of relief and he ambled casually down the sidewalk.

It happened then, as I watched him walking away, holding my bags and despondent at the prospect of letting another nice-but-not-enough guy down. A moving truck hurtled around the corner of Plymouth and Lexington Streets, pulled over and slammed to a standstill at the loading area a few inches from where I was standing. It was so loud and sudden, tearing into my abstraction, my grip loosened in surprise and one of the bags I held dropped to the pavement. I cursed under my breath. Ignoring the burly men getting out of the front of the truck, I crouched to scoop the contents back into their place.

From the corner of my eye I saw a hand reach out to grasp a packet that had rolled further away and for a moment I assumed they were going to run off with it - just my luck.

"It's mine," I snapped loudly.

"I can see that," a woman's voice told me smoothly and moved closer. She held it out as I rose and looked at her.

It sounds farfetched, but I'm sure I felt something inside me shift the second I saw her face. Staring, I took the item and dropped it into a bag without concentrating on what I was doing. It fell straight back to the ground and the woman, who was paying less attention to me and more to the activity going on around the van, frowned and bent to pick it up again.

"Sorry," I said clumsily and watched her push it into the bag herself. I couldn't take my eyes off her. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she replied, still not looking at me.

"This is the last of it, just a few boxes," one of the moving men called to her as he slid the back door of the truck open.

"Yes." She moved toward them and I watched motionless, all of my previous depression forgotten.

Why the instant attraction I couldn't really grasp; maybe, like an animal, I sensed there was something different about this woman. She was pretty but a lot of people were and even if my same-sex tendencies weren't controlled with an iron fist, she was the complete opposite of my usual type. I had a history of going for dark hair and eyes, while this woman was blonde, her eyes a piercing blue. Besides which, aside from helping me with my parcels, and in doing so making me feel a fool, she had almost totally ignored me, had not even met my gaze. This was something I was unaccustomed to; I drew attention, at least from people seeing me for the first time. Was I in a masochistic mood? Her lack of interest intrigued me.

Feeling like an idiot for simply standing there, I pulled my gaze away and fumbled to get into the building and my first floor apartment. I saw boxes on the second floor landing above and my stomach jumped into my throat when the blonde woman followed the moving men in and led them up the stairs.

It was one thing for her to be in a neighboring building but to have her right upstairs from me? That was another. I had known number 5 was vacant; I'd heard work being done at odd hours and then for the past week, nothing. Inside, I greeted Gene and unloaded my bags but could not think about relaxing for the night; couldn't distract myself from the woman's pristine image. I had to investigate. Normally I ignored neighbors, kept more to myself than anyone else in the building but this was different. My initial reaction to her must be false; an introduction would lay my mind to rest - she would turn out to be quotidian and I could relieve myself of her company quickly and continue my boring night in peace. I locked my door and ascended the stairs in a worrying state of excitation. When I reached the top the two movers were just leaving.

"You need anything else, give us a holler," the larger one yelled.

"Thanks guys," I heard the woman call from the depths of number 5 and the older man winked at me as we passed each other. I approached the door which stood open, inviting and knocked on the side of the frame cautiously. She emerged from an inner room, all honey-colored hair, creamy skin and bright eyes.

"Hello," she greeted mildly and moved toward a dark stained mahogany table on which two boxes sat. I peered around; the dining and living areas were open plan and a view through to the recently renovated kitchen was relatively unobstructed from where I stood.

"They've got this place looking good," I commented. "I never saw it before all the work though."

"It's comfortable," she agreed, rummaging with her things.

"Is it one bedroom or two?"

"I live alone if that's the purpose of your question," she said, smiling into a box.

I had yet to respond to her greeting or to introduce myself and it struck me as strange that she was willing to reveal she lived alone first. But it had been the reason I asked and the furtive smile on her rosebud lips was ...yummy.

"I saw you downstairs." It had been a long time since someone's mere presence had done this to me.

"Yes," she nodded. "You dropped your birth control pills. Twice." And another smile.

Fuck. Was that what it was? I had not been paying attention.

"I wanted to meet you properly. I'm Eden, I live in number 3." She still didn't look at me and I was fully embarrassed for the few moments that lapsed before she answered.

"Directly below me," she mumbled then lifted her head. "You're going to hear noises." She caught my eye for the briefest of moments. "Don't call the police."

"Ah." I raised my brows but she had turned back to her boxes. It had to have been a joke, a woman with a black sense of humor. Unfortunately my interest was not being laid to rest as expected. "Do you have a name?"

"Sarah."

She didn't seem like a Sarah, but I couldn't think what she did seem like. I watched as she began pulling lap tops and desk top components out of a box - some of the equipment I could not identify.

"That's a lot of hardware. Are you a technician?" I asked and she narrowed her eyes at me, as if to say 'what's it to you?' It stunned me how good it felt to have her even glance my way, I wanted more but she was a surprisingly inattentive person. I'd never been one of those women who wanted things just because she couldn't have them - my very first feelings on meeting Sarah.

"I'm an art historian," she sighed, as if she bored herself.

"Are you new to the city?"

"Not exactly."

I was going to ask her to elaborate when another knock came from the open door and I turned to see Rico, the married man from the fourth floor peering in at me then refocusing on Sarah as she looked toward him, waited for what he wanted.

"You shouldn't leave your boxes on the landing. I'll help you with them for a coffee?"

I watched as Sarah went to the open door, stood close but didn't look at him; her head was down as if she was more interested in the polished floor.

"No, thank you," she said and shut the door right in his face.

"Um..." I stammered, surprised.

"The boxes are empty anyway."

"That's Rico, he's always hanging around, watching."

"Like you are?"

"Well..." Dammit, she was right, I was being weird. "Would you like me to leave you alone?"

"You're not bothering me."

But Rico did? She had gone to him, as if she was judging the vibes coming off him. She had made a decision she didn't want him around or even to be polite but I was allowed to be here watching her unpack? She was good at that, making people feel either special or terrible. Well, making me feel special simply by accepting my attendance and no one else's. I always made an effort to at least be polite to Rico but she didn't feel the need. Right from that first day she had decided I was okay, and in doing so, hooked my curious and receptive heart.

"Have you met Rico before?"

"I have a superb sense of smell."

"Really?"

"No. But he's got potential. If he tries anything I'll chop his balls off with a lathe hammer," she told me and began pulling cords from her box.

My eyes widened involuntarily. I didn't know what a lathe hammer was but assumed having ones balls chopped off with one would be nasty. I'd never heard such things from a relative stranger. Even the words might not have been so unusual if they had been accompanied by a chuckle or a smile, but she said them with a calm, slow certainty, like she knew things no one else did. If a little creepy, Rico seemed mostly harmless to me.

"Are you a bit psychotic?" I ventured, wanting to engage but also genuinely wondering if she was.

"Yes, probably," she nodded, without expression and she sealed my fate. She didn't know me from Eve but she obviously didn't care what I thought of her. Or maybe she liked certain people viewing her in certain ways. Questions began to formulate in my mind, the kind of questions I'd never asked myself about anyone outside of work. Never cared enough.

I tried to observe the apartment instead of staring at her as she fiddled with her belongings but my thoughts were far from the decor.

"You don't look like an art historian named Sarah." I hadn't really meant to say it out loud but it was true, it couldn't have been more discordant to the impression she gave off. As soon as the comment left my lips a few different caustic responses occurred to me, but she didn't give any of them.

"You don't look like a warrior," she offered instead, confusing the hell out of me. One of the lesser reasons I found this statement odd was that I hadn't seen her look at me properly yet.

"Warrior?" I asked, wondering if I'd misheard her. "Perhaps that's because I'm not one."

"Ah, a warrior unaware of what she is," she chuckled for the first time, but I couldn't enjoy it.

"I don't... Are you making fun of me?"

"No," she stated categorically, only increasing my confusion. "You fight."

"I should go, leave you to it," I said and headed for the door.

I was embarrassed. I didn't know this woman, had intruded on her privacy long enough. I was also slightly insulted - the warrior remark had thrown me out of orbit, as if I wasn't already.

She told me it was nice to meet me as she continued her activities and I slipped out of the apartment, down the stairs and locked myself safely back inside my own inner sanctum. My goal in going up there to settle my mind had failed miserably and I spent the night replaying the conversation at number 5.

As I went over Sarah's words my discomfort slipped away. It was the warrior part that had bothered me most but it occurred to me later there was nothing inaccurate about it. I fought every day in my own way; a constant struggle for the rights of victims. That she could tell this without asking anything about me was eerie. I sincerely hoped it wasn't as simple and ugly as seeing the stress of my job written in lines on my face. My embarrassment switched character, I was ashamed of my ignorant reaction, my need to escape.

Lying in bed I found myself listening intently for these 'sounds' she had warned me of, waiting for them, but I heard nothing, not even the creaks the last upstairs tenants used to produce as they walked across my ceiling. I fell asleep easily but dreamed of work - bruised faces trapped behind mountains of paperwork.

When I sat at the kitchen table in the morning with my decaf the usual crowd of thoughts assaulted my brain. I have to see little Bevan at 9.30 with his mother. It won't go well. Will it rain today? Must take the umbrella just in case. Should I try to eat something? I'm not really hungry yet. I feel like chocolate. Does chocolate have caffeine in it? I haven't called Dex for a while, I should do that tonight. I still haven't heard any sounds from upstairs. I wonder what Sarah's morning routine entails. And once her image was in my head it was stuck there for the day.

I went back that evening of course - she had me ensnared already. I went with the vague plan to apologize for excusing myself abruptly the day before but when I knocked on her door, saw her beautiful face again, and was allowed entry so easily, I realized she had not been offended, she was oblivious to my turmoil.

The apartment, which had seemed unnaturally light and airy the night before was darker now, in more ways than one. She had been busy, the white walls around the dining table, which was still strewn with her computer equipment, were hung with dark posters and printouts of paintings, all of them morbid to varying degrees.

She greeted me with a gentle smile then sat down at her computer again, outwardly insouciant to why I was back, leaving me to study the walls in silence. I was drawn to a 22"/24" sized print of Massacre of the Innocents by Matteo di Giovanni.

"So, you're an art historian," I led as I stared at the depiction.

"Yes."

"Are you religious?"

"No," she answered simply.

"Why all the Christian imagery then?"

"Not all of them are. Do you find them vulgar?"

"I'm not sure such quality could be termed vulgar."

"Are you an art person?"

"I can appreciate the beauty even in the macabre. But there's a strange theme going on here." I turned from the detail of the poster and observed her. "It makes me wonder about you."

"As you can see, they are cheap copies, not for decorative value." She looked around at the variety of icons hanging on her walls, almost as if she herself was offended by them. "They keep me focused. One day, I won't need them."

"Focused on what?" I asked curiously.

"The malevolence is applicable to what we encounter on a daily basis; they are valid representations of exactly how evil we can be, both as individuals and as a supposedly civilized culture. It's important to never forget, this is the world we live in."

"Yes," I agreed and stared at her. She didn't say these things as if she were informing me, but rather like she herself needed reminding by saying them out loud. Her refusal to answer the question directly made me think this wasn't about what she did for a living. This was something else. "I heard this quote once 'Life is a shit storm and when it's raining shit, the best umbrella you can buy is art.'"

"I like that one," she smiled. "A bit coarse but still relevant."

"How did you know? That I fight?"

"It's psychology, isn't it?" She brushed the question aside with a smile, mischievous dimples appearing in her cheeks. "We all fight."

"I work for the Department of Social Services," I said and she nodded but did not ask for details.

She got up and moved toward a smaller image closer to the kitchens entrance.

"This one might interest you," she said and I wandered over. The painting was of a man in a loin cloth, struggling up a cliff face with an enormous object on his shoulders. "Sisyphus by Titian. Do you know it?"

"No."

"According to Greek mythology, Sisyphus was a King punished by the Gods to push a huge rock up the side of a hill. Every time he reached the top, the rock would roll back down again; he would have to repeat this task for all eternity."

"It's horrific."

"Yes. Some people believe it is a metaphor for life, the human condition. That here, we are all sinners, banished to a life of toil without reason."

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled and I turned from the picture to stare at her, only inches away.

"Is that what you believe?"

"No. I keep this to remind me of its self-defeating futility. It is too easy to lose sight of an end goal." She met my gaze all too briefly. Her irises were darker on the outside, paler moving inward so that the contrast against her pupils was stark, disconcerting. She returned to her table and computers and I remained dumbstruck, her words cutting into the pulsing heart of my work frustrations.

"You shouldn't think that though," she continued clicking at her mouse, screen not in view. "There is an end for everything. We are here to define those ends."

"Do you have some kind of sixth sense?" Under the circumstances, I thought it was a perfectly legitimate question, but Sarah only laughed without looking at me.

"We all do," she said, attempting to throw me off her scent, but I wasn't so easily swayed. I could play games too.

"Who's we?" I asked and she looked pensive.

"We are many different things, difficult to define precisely out of context. How would you define yourself?"

I couldn't think of an answer, quickly her game became superior to mine. I could refuse to play or allow her to dictate even my own moves. At that moment I felt weak, ineffectual.

"Any way you define yourself, resorting to Sisyphean defeat isn't the answer," she said firmly and again I stared, wide-eyed.

"What about these others?" I asked, for want of anything better to say.

"You mustn't kill babies either," she said with a smile and I relaxed marginally. I realized Sarah was easiest to be around when I wasn't taking her too seriously.

"It's alright to slaughter adults though, right?" I asked. "If not, I'll have to change my plans for the week."

"Some people need to be removed from the world."

"Interesting way to describe murder." Another picture caught my eye on the far wall and I moved closer. Three female figures shrouded in white and surrounded by blackness; it was more modern than the rest and almost photographic. "This one's different."

"Like it?"

"Yes, it's less tortured than the others."

"They are the Norns of Norse mythology; supernatural entities who rule the fate of Gods and men, spinning the thread of life and death. Synonymous with many cross-cultural parallels - the Greek Moirai, even the Three Witches from Shakespeare's Macbeth."

"Do you believe in reincarnation?" I said, still entranced by the figures. I hadn't intended to ask such a thing but the idea had been on my mind lately and given what we were talking about I was interested in her thoughts.

"Sometimes." She had this strange habit of going completely still and looking into the blank space in front of her, it was as if she wasn't there for a moment. "It's possible we're sent back again and again until we get it right."

"So you do believe we're sinners being punished?"

"No, I don't think it's that simple, or that bleak. Our lives here could be viewed more as a classroom or a training ground and everyone has different lessons to learn."

"You think we're being watched?" I asked and she shrugged.

"Maybe they don't have eyes so they're not going to care about the special relationship you have with your shower head or the toys you keep in your bedside drawer but they might get pissed about cruelty."

I stifled a snort which came out anyway as a kind of awkward squeak, blushed and tried to stay on topic.

"Why is there no communication with them? No knowledge?"

"We have to earn our way to their level. And we have to earn it without knowing what we're trying to do, that's why we're born with no memory."

"You mean like, if we knew what we had to do, there would be some level of deception involved?"

"Exactly. The changes we make need to slice right to the core, no bullshit allowed. If we know what our goal is, humans will bend every rule they can in order to get to it. Best they reach their target without knowing what it is."

The strangest thing about this exchange was that I understood what she was saying. I didn't know if she was crazy; even taken totally seriously her theories were no worse than your average zealots.

"Most of the time I'm convinced we're living in a computer simulation," I said wistfully.

"Yes," she agreed. "It seems unlikely that we'll ever be able to understand what's out there in space, let alone get to it."

"Because it's a mirage?" I asked and she shrugged again. "How old are you?"

"Breaking protocol? I thought we might just stick to unconventional conversation."

"You look young but you don't act it," I commented.

"I'm pushing 30. You?" She didn't ask as if it was a question she needed an answer to, just one that was expected of her.

"I'll be 28 in January. Scary."

"Why?"

"I haven't done anything."

"What would you like to do?"

"That's the really sad part," I said gloomily. "I don't even know."

"I don't believe you," she stated, staring at her screen. "I think you know."

"Maybe. At least I need to feel alive again."

I was late to Mathew's door that night but I don't think he minded. The feel of his physical body beneath mine had never had such an effect on me. My eyes were closed though, and in the blackness behind their lids, a piercing blue looked back at me.

"Whoa, babe," Mathew gasped and turned to me with a huge grin. "Where did that come from?"

It was her, I knew it. I wasn't one of those women so deluded they didn't even know they wanted other women - I knew, I just refused to give over to it. Sex with men had always come with a generous dose of guilt. Guilt that was in the process of sharpening dramatically. It was a lie, I knew most of the boyfriends I'd had would be hurt, or at least insulted, if they realized what I was really thinking about - that a big part of me was somewhere else. I wondered if sex with a woman would be free of guilt, or if it would only change shape.

I didn't stay at Mathew's, I made my excuses and left. I wanted to spend the night beneath her, listening for her sounds.

I'd always kept my feelings for women strictly closeted. I guarded them closely since they first surfaced when I was a teenager. My family were bigoted and my experiences with friends weren't that much better. Things had changed since, naturally, but I was in deep; the habit of keeping a boyfriend around to be sure no one suspected my sexuality continued. I liked men, I got along well with them, generally better than the needy, clingy women I knew. As the lie continued and grew with each passing year so did my guilt over it. I would never be able to get rid of my feelings for women and I was way off if I thought men were a sound substitute. But I was so used to it, living that fallacy, and once a prejudice has become ingrained, it's hard to overcome.

By the time Sarah entered the picture, I was at a point where the scales were tipping heavily in favor of changing my lifestyle. I couldn't continue using men and hating myself the way I was. I preached tolerance in every aspect of my professional life but I didn't have the courage to practice it when it came to my personal one. I wasn't interested in playing the lesbian field, I think I just wanted to fall in love; and there Sarah was.

Always waiting until darkness fell, I began visiting number 5 regularly. Sarah never demanded I talk about work or my private issues, she was easy to be around. She didn't seem to mind my visits, showed little interest but never turned me away. She dismissed me only when she had to leave the apartment for something - a Muay Thai training session, a self-defense class, a late slot at the shooting range. For weeks I was sure she was kidding when she mentioned these things, that she was probably going to the grocery store or to visit a friend. I learned quickly that my delicately probing questions, intended to get 'normal' information out of her, would not be successful and began to wonder if she had any normal attributes. It was hard to tell when she was joking but I never picked up on an actual lie from her; if she didn't want to answer a question, she just didn't.

Quite early in life I'd assumed the role of caretaker, an automatic thing I fell into with my younger siblings, friends, boyfriends, even my parents. It was the type of person I was, I had even made a career out of it. I was drawn to Sarah for reasons that went consummately against my usual. She didn't need me, not for anything. She didn't need help, reassurance, validation, protection, someone to talk to, a shoulder to cry on. She never seemed curious about why I visited her, often continuing whatever she was occupied with at the time; fiddling on her computers, shuffling with her printouts and notepads. She rarely looked at me but I could always count on her to understand what I said without going into detail and to offer something bizarrely insightful in return. She gave off the sense that with or without my presence was fine by her. Which made her company irresistible to me.

It wasn't until about three weeks after my visits started that I followed her into her bedroom one day without really thinking about it. We were in the middle of one of our weird back-and-forth's, so of course I followed her when she wandered out of the room.

"This quote 'It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all'; what do you think of it?" she asked immediately after my arrival, staring at her desktop screen. She did insist on launching into the most difficult questions, pontificating on subjects I rarely thought about before her. Without even saying hi or how are you first.

"I suppose it depends on whether you want to face great pain or to remain empty," I replied.

"You think without love there is only emptiness?"

"Honestly, I'm the last person able to give any accurate conjecture on such a topic."

"You are human, you feel love; and I don't ask for accuracy, only subjective theory," she smiled mysteriously. The smile that affected me deeper every time I saw it. Why did she speak about love now? With me? I sat down at the table uninvited and tried to think of an appropriate response.

"A hypothetical question," she announced in response to my silence. "Would you risk prison, becoming a social pariah, to perform a morally just act?"

"Our laws are generally moral."

"With or without law, good and bad happen."

"If the crap hit the fan I'd like to think I would be willing to make sacrifices for my principles, yes."

"Many people's principles are questionable," she said quietly, staring at her wall. "But yours are untarnished."

Untarnished? Her comments often made me feel warm, while at the same time raising another ten questions in my mind. Asking her these questions proved fatal; she fed my confusion into a positive feedback loop.

"You act as if you already knew the answer. Why ask if you know?"

"Conversation?"

"Damn, you're annoying," I said with a shake of my head. "I think, deep down you're a mystic."

She looked at me funny then - actually looked at me. I twiddled my fingers anxiously under her penetrating gaze.

"Why do you say that?"

"You're searching for answers you can't find in society, philosophy, art, law. You're searching for answers you can't even find in science or religion. Hence - mystic."

She chuckled at me and finally averted her gaze.

"You're all good with me," she concluded and again I felt warm.

"Don't you consider yourself spiritual?"

"The subject of what happens after death isn't my business. It's here we have to worry about."

"Why isn't it your business? We all die."

"Death schmeth."

I narrowed my eyes and studied her.

"What is it that worries you here?" I tried.

"Bad decisions. Bad people."

"Bad people can make good decisions and vice versa."

"There are certain decisions from which redemption is impossible. You have a remarkably positive attitude for someone in your line of work. Is it a cover?"

"Without it I might wither and die," I admitted and she looked thoughtful.

"What about killing very different birds with the same stone. Do you think it's possible?" she asked. She talked in code so often I was getting used to these kind of questions.

"I believe in laziness," I said and she laughed.

"I'm not talking about laziness, but rather proficiency," she quipped.

"Women are great multi-taskers so... What are you referring to? What birds?" It had become common for me to stop in the middle of a discussion and question what we were actually talking about, even if only to myself.

"Love and hate," she replied simply.

"Sometimes not so divisible," I thought out loud.

"True enough," she agreed. I didn't understand how we had managed to bypass all regular routes for getting to know one another but it didn't bother me; instead it solidified my sense of kinship with her. "Betrayal and loyalty then?"

"One can easily lead to the other."

"Good and bad?"

"Also not mutually exclusive."

"Oh wow." She shook her head, rose from her chair and said, "You really have been here too long," then wandered down the hall. My eyebrows flew up and I followed her with the intention to get a proper answer about what she meant. Suddenly I was confronted with her bedroom as she crossed to a chest of drawers and fiddled in the top drawer. I swallowed when I saw her bed, all black sheets and pillows, and the topic of discussion drifted off my radar. I was about to back out of the room when I saw the objects on the top of the dresser and my eyes widened in surprise. She found what it was she wanted and turned, stopping when she saw the look on my face and followed my eyes.

"I thought you were joking," I said, not knowing how to react.

She was not fazed by my seeing them, she beckoned me over and I went.

"Sig Sauer P229. Smith and Wesson Shield 9mm. This one is the Beretta 92FS, standard issue for US military." She pointed to each as I stared. "Don't be scared, they're not loaded."

I wasn't completely unfamiliar with guns; my father had been a marine. At least two of Sarah's guns were compact enough to be considered concealed-carry weapons.

"Were you serious about the self-defense too?" I asked.

"Of course," she said simply and I followed her back out to the living area.

"Why?" I asked after she had settled back in front of her screen.

"Why what?"

"Why guns and Muay Thai? You don't seem the type, I mean, look at you."

"What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing, you're gorgeous, classy." Times like these I was hopeless, I couldn't express myself properly without hinting at both my attraction and my culturally challenged bias. I winced at my own idiocy, but Sarah was not in the habit of pointing out my weaknesses.

"All the more reason to learn to protect myself," she said. "You should learn yourself, the body alone has enormous potential to cause damage to someone trying to hurt you."

"Yeah." Was that an offer? Besides the tingle of fear that went down my spine from her words I had a powerful urge to beg her to teach me. Maybe she would have to touch me.

"There are a lot of dangerous people in the world. You of all people know that."

"I get the feeling you're one of them," I said, still distracted by my thoughts.

"You know what they say about fighting fire," she smiled slyly and I had a slight mindgasm.

As if they hadn't been vivid enough, my fantasies about her catapulted after that. It was like she was two people, the art-historian who discussed philosophy and the martial-artist who owned guns. It occurred to me that there was a point these two people met - her constant preoccupation with distinguishing right from wrong, darkness from light. I didn't understand what any of it meant, but the possibility she might be preparing or planning for some kind of exploit made my blood boil; I'd never fantasized about anyone the way I did her.

My interest in Sarah didn't lapse as the weeks went by. The ease of being around her offered respite from the tension of my day that I was slowly becoming hooked on. I found myself putting off more pressing matters - finishing paperwork, calling my mother, grocery shopping - so that I could make my nightly visit. I'd never known anyone I could talk to the way I did her; with a kind of disconnected intimacy we discussed pivotal things without going into detail. Death, sickness, emotion, history, belief, lack of belief, behavioral patterns, psychology - it was all on the table. She didn't just haunt my dreams physically, it was her opinions, her expressions, her laughter. It was the way she made me feel like I wasn't a lie.

It didn't happen all at once in some great breakthrough, but my attitude altered. First the guilt became more pronounced, especially since I was using Mathew more instead of following through with my plan to break it off with him that day on the street. And use was definitely the word for it - I avoided spending full nights at his place and never asked him to stay at mine. Why I couldn't just buy a sex toy I didn't know, but flesh is flesh.

Some nights when I went to number 5, Sarah wasn't home. I missed her, looked forward to when I could visit her again. I felt a tug when I did see her, a tug that became stronger. I often had to force myself out the door when I left, feeling an inclination to linger as long as possible. It was absurd, I pined after her like a lost puppy. I fell asleep imagining that she was pressed against my body, I dreamed of her through the night and my concentration at work was lagging as fantasy infected my days. It was the kind of thing that happened to childhood crushes not grown women.

I never mentioned her to anyone else. Aside from the strong sense that she wouldn't want me talking to others about her, I liked that she was mine alone. My secret, which was rapidly turning into the best part of my life.

One morning, after a particularly vivid dream, I glared at myself in the bathroom mirror. I'd never been dissatisfied with my looks, there was nothing wrong with me physically. My long, brown hair was thick and silky; so high maintenance I often thought about cutting it all off. My eyes were green, a gift from my father, and my olive skin was unlined as yet. But Sarah barely looked at me.

I considered the probability she was totally straight. Aggressive hobbies aside, she was overtly feminine. I found her constant high dress standard both intimidating and incredibly sexy. Even from that first day moving in, messing around at home, leaving the apartment for one of her classes, she stayed close to casual maxi and sheath dresses. I'd even seen her scrubbing her kitchen floor in a pencil skirt and button down shirt once. Did she own any sweatpants? I couldn't quite picture her doing martial-arts training in a dress.

Who scrubs their kitchen floor in work clothes? I'd spent an embarrassingly long time watching her backside that night while she mumbled about executions throughout history and tried to extract an opinion from someone whose thoughts were elsewhere. She seemed to have these hyperactive moments, when she was performing a task in a slight frenzy and her speech became more convoluted, more insistent. I liked catching her at these times, she was human, vulnerable.

So, yes, maybe she was straight. But I'd known plenty of straight girls who still admired my features. And I'd never seen Sarah look at anyone else properly either, she was equally disinterested in everyone - an observation that either comforted me or deepened my frustration depending which angle I came at it from. As far as I knew, I was the only other person she allowed into her apartment. I'd never seen her have a visitor, never even heard her talk on the phone or to someone out on the street. At times I wondered if she was a figment of my imagination, but then Rico would ask annoying questions about her at the mailboxes and I knew she was real.

It hit me then, peering at my mirror image critically - I was boring. It would take something other than physical beauty to capture Sarah's attention and I simply didn't have it. Recognizing this deficiency in myself was just another part of the slow decline of my self-esteem due to dishonesty, I realized this later, away from my condemning gaze. Changing the root cause of the problem meant working towards telling the truth.

This was of great worry to me, the idea was scary and when Mathew rung my buzzer that night I let him in quickly, welcoming the distraction from my petty torment. But it didn't work. It wasn't his fault of course, but he was part of the problem and having him there wasn't helping. I enjoyed listening to him mess around on my decks for a while but when we got into the bedroom all I could do was stare at the roof and wonder why I was here instead of up there visiting.

He rolled off me.

"Okay, what is up with you?" he asked. "The last few times you couldn't get enough and tonight you're just lying there like you're waiting for me to finish."

He was angry and that made me impatient, pushed me over the edge I was tottering on.

"And apparently you're not going to," I said. "You should go."

"What the fuck, Eden? Have I done something wrong?"

"I'm not in the mood."

"Women," he snorted, got up and started pulling his jockey's and jeans on. The prospect of him leaving without protest cheered me slightly.

"You didn't do anything wrong. But..." I took a deep breath. "You and I, we should call it quits." Best to tear the band-aid off fast.

"Hey, wait a second. It's one bad night." He looked at me with concern but thankfully continued buttoning his shirt. "I shouldn't have been rude. Say you don't mean that."

"I do mean it," I said without looking at him.

"Okay, look, I'll call you tomorrow when you're feeling better. We'll sort it out then."

I didn't speak to him again as he saw himself out. I didn't like the idea of a further confrontation but my mind was made up, I wasn't going to chicken out this time.

It didn't really matter if Sarah didn't want me; I couldn't deny my feelings anymore, I'd reached a point where I wouldn't be able to take care of other people until I paid some serious attention to my own problems.

For the first time observing women from a distance wasn't enough. I wanted to touch the fantasy, kiss it; give myself over to it completely. I didn't know how I would do it, if I could do it, but breaking up with Mathew seemed a good place to start.

When he knocked on my door the next evening without calling first my heart sank; I wasn't big on hurting people, but I knew he would be better off finding someone who could give him what he wanted. This needed to happen.

He leaned forward to kiss me in the doorway and I dodged the kiss. His expression fell and I gestured for him to come in; I didn't want an audience, even if it was only a loitering Rico.

"You're still pissed at me?" he asked as he followed me into the kitchen and gave Gene, sprawled on the floor, a curt pat.

"I'm not pissed at you," I stressed. "But we are over. I can't be with you anymore."

He ran his fingers through his dark hair, shut his eyes and puffed out heavily.

"Why?" he asked.

"I've got...issues, Mathew, I can't give you what you want."

"What is it you think I want?"

"Equal opportunity?"

"I get it, you know. All that shit you're exposed to at work. If that's what this is about..." He looked around the kitchen, lost. "Why can't you just leave it behind when you get home, Eds?"

On the rare occasions that people called me Eds, I cringed - I hated it. Its use now helped me say what I needed to.

"That's not what this is about. It has nothing to do with work."

"Okay," he dropped his head and my stomach lurched. "I thought we had something."

I took a deep breath.

"We did have something. And now we don't. I'm sorry. I'm in love with someone else," I said in a halting manner that made me cower inside and beg him with my eyes. He looked up at me sharply, angry now.

"Bullshit," he said. "It's an excuse with you. You're incapable of feeling. I was warned."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Hilly and I are friends, remember, he told me you did the same thing to him. You couldn't love anyone. Fuck, what a waste of... Just fuck." He met my eyes for a second then turned and made his way to the door. "You're going to die alone, Eden," he called back to me in disgust before he slammed the door in his wake.

I studied my fingernails. He was angry, his ego bruised, he was welcome to a snide remark or two. Besides, he was probably right; I would die alone, we all do. Living a life with someone I didn't love just to pretend I wouldn't die alone was a cosmic joke.

Once the initial recoil had worn off I felt some relief at having broken ties with Mathew. But again it was sheened over by my unwillingness to tell anyone - for the next week, I simply went about work as though nothing had changed. I continued to remind myself that it was an important part of a much bigger process and I should take my time, allow for adjustment, but I was becoming anxious. It wouldn't be long before I would have to tell people, they would hear about it anyway. The community I circled in was relatively tightknit, family and friends mostly knew each other and although I'd distanced myself substantially over the years, it only appeared to make people nosier. The small amount of time I had the opportunity to think, I felt the weight of my lying life more heavily than ever, sometimes I was not convinced I could ever escape it.

A week single and I still hadn't told anyone. I went upstairs and knocked on Sarah's door. When I followed her into the dining area she quickly clicked a laptop closed as she sat down. She'd never done that before.

"Watching porn?" I asked in amusement, but she did not laugh.

"Something like that."

"Are you okay?"

"The world is full of disease," she said, once again staring into the blank space between us. She was different, she looked like she'd been crying; I'd never seen her this way before. Did she finally feel a need to vent to someone? To me?

"Yes, it is," I agreed. "Behind many different forms and faces."

"People think there is no way to fix things. That it's an abortive mission."

"It often is. But in my line of work, even a small thing can make a difference."

"You know better than even me what it's like in this fucking place. Always questioning what the right thing to do is, how far is too far, which way is better or worse. How are we supposed to know? The rules don't work, they can be improved, can't they? Everything can always be improved..."

She was ranting, she was hyperactive and possibly having a meltdown.

"Sarah, tell me what's wrong."

"Sometimes you have to do something wrong to make things right. One step back, two steps forward."

"There's always a price to pay for that," I said, attempting to bring myself to her level.

"Always a price for everything. But a single, courageous act can alter history, not just for one person, but for many."

As I looked at her in worry, she went still for a moment then, without preempt, let out a high pitched scream. I jumped in shock and stared at her agape. She scrunched her eyes shut for several seconds, the sound of the scream reverberating around the room, then she opened them and relaxed her face.

"That's a bit better," she said and I put my hand on my chest.

"Jesus. A bit of warning next time?"

Every time I thought I had put of piece of her puzzle together she surprised me again. A third face to Sarah had emerged; an emotional one, an angry one. I cannot say I was put off by it - though it surprised me with its intensity and with its mystery, it was no less appealing than any other aspect of the woman. I had a niggling sense that I was blinded by my own emotions, swept along on a tide of adoration. Now I know it was the love itself which was the delusion, not the purity of Sarah's being.

"Sometimes it's all too much," she paused. "What do you do when you get frustrated?"

"It varies," I said awkwardly. "Sometimes I just spend the night at ...my partners place."

"Yes," she nodded knowingly. "Love must be nice."

"I don't love him." I was so weak, why couldn't I just admit I didn't have a partner anymore?

"Oh?" she asked with a frown that somehow spoke of all my guilt then her expression changed abruptly into one of levity. "Don't tell me you're one of those people who think an orgasm can fix everything?"

"What?" Again, I doubted I had heard her correctly, but the half-smile she maintained told me I had. I felt heat rise to my face and thanked God I didn't have too pale a complexion. "Of course not," I stammered. "How... God, you're impossible."

"You think so?" she chuckled. "It's just, you're quite cute when you're embarrassed."

I almost bit my lip and blushed even deeper, but as usual she wasn't looking at me so it went unnoticed.

"How do you know that?" I asked, trying to cover my shame with anger. "You never look at me!" It was totally the wrong thing to say because she looked at me then, turned the full force of her piercing eyes on me and held them for what felt like eternity. I didn't know whether to pee myself or just run away; I was sure she could see all the private thoughts I'd had about her. What color my face was at that point I couldn't tell you, I couldn't feel my body at all, only those eyes. Then she looked away with a smile and refocused on her desktop screen. I could breathe.

"Sometimes, you don't need to look at people to know they're embarrassed... Or cute," she said and the ability to breathe evaded me again. "I'm sorry."

What was she apologizing for? I didn't understand anything, she had me stupefied.

"Why are you sorry?"

"I'm sorry you're angry because you think I don't look at you. I don't want to upset you."

"You are the most ...interesting person I've ever met." I came far too close to using a different word and my embarrassment amplified.

"Eden," she shook her head. "And I thought I didn't get out much."

Was that the first time she had spoken my name? It rolled off her tongue so beautifully. My presence seemed to have calmed her down, which was a nice feeling.

Focusing on the table nervously I noticed an old book, out of place amongst all the electronic equipment. I picked it up and flicked to the blurb.

"This book looks...off-kilter." Of course it did, it was in Sarah's apartment.

"Oscar Pettersson, a Swedish activist and genius. He wrote it in a fit of depression and not long after was sent to a mental asylum and put on Thorazine. Chemical lobotomy, he never wrote again."

"Hell," I said, thinking about the amount of people who must suffer similar fates. "That'll be me in a few years."

"Yes," she agreed. "I can just see you, shuffling around the psych ward in a shabby smock and worn slippers, looking lost; a bit of drool hanging from your lip. Before you're 40."

She said it with a completely straight face but I couldn't help breaking into hysterics. Was I just in a highly excitable state? Several times I thought I'd controlled myself, the image she described ran through my head again and it was hard to recover.

"Sorry," I said finally, wiping the tears from my eyes. "You have a way with words."

"It's nice to hear you laugh."

"Where will you be while my grim future unfolds?"

"Bathing in blood. Enjoying eternal life and eternal damnation."

"Ah ha. I knew you were spiritual."

"The soul - where art is information."

"Would you ...like to come to my place for dinner?"

"What are you having?" She appeared to catch herself and change her mind. "You're a good person. You really should stay away from people like me."

"Museum curators?"

"Yes. Have you ever met a good museum curator?"

"I... You're the only one I've met."

"Exactly."

"You've never even seen my apartment."

"Is it amazing?"

"No. But you could meet Genesis."

"Your boyfriends name is Genesis?"

"No. Mathew doesn't live with me." And he's not my boyfriend anymore. "Genesis is my dog."

"Oh." She made her signature move. "You have a dog,' she said thoughtfully.

"Not a dog person?" I asked, disappointed. I adored Gene, any incompatible obsession was difficult.

"Isn't it cruel to keep a dog in an apartment without a yard all day?"

Perhaps she didn't hate dogs.

"Maybe for a young dog but Gene is old and almost totally blind, I got her from the shelter on Boulcott Street, she was going to be put down. I take her for walks every morning and night, I'm surprised you've never seen me with her."

"Maybe one day I could meet her, but not today," she said, and I didn't know how to feel about it.

"What do you have that needs fixing so badly?"

"I can fix my own problems."

"I know that but everything always feels so one-sided with you. I know almost nothing about you."

"But you frequent the place I live."

"Ah." She had a point. And how could I argue with her anyway, I had too many things to hide - namely the fact that I was totally infatuated with her - the reason I wanted to know everything about her and for her to express at least a small amount of enthusiasm at the idea of visiting my apartment. For dinner. And drinks. And a life together. FUCK!

"I would say you know more about me than I know about you," she stressed. "So what is it? What is this irresistible thing that you need to know so badly? You're searching for something."

"Where do you go at night?" I asked, taking a chance. "You disappear for hours every night."

"That is restricted info," she laughed. "You are a curious cat, aren't you?"

"Yes," I said, resentful now. I shouldn't have asked, I knew from her reaction she wasn't going to tell me. "I worry about you. With your guns and your self-defense and all your talk about fixing things and staying focused. It's all very fucking worrying."

"Worried my foot, you're inquisitive. Don't sulk, Eden, it doesn't become you. Embarrassment suits you better."

"You..." Are the most irritating, frustrating... "No dinner then," I said dolefully, gazing at my shoes.

"Are you attracted to me?"

The question snapped my head up and she was looking at me again, her eyes boring.

"Why would you ask that?" I tried to keep my voice nonchalant.

"Your interest in me seems intense."

"I have a boyfriend," I pointed out weakly, and felt another blush on my cheeks.

"Well then," her eyes left me, "worry about him, not me. Or you might end up finding more than you bargained for."

That was it, she had enigmatically backed me into a position where I had to give up. But the words made me think - whatever this un-bargained for thing was, I wanted it.

I was feeling quite sick by the time I managed to knock on her door two nights later. I'd driven myself into a state thinking about telling her my feelings, at least for women if not for her. I had to start somewhere and despite never having had a so-called regular conversation with her, she was who I felt closest to. I'd gone over and over it in my head and everyone else I considered would be shocked and hurt that I'd lied to them for so long about so many things. That left Sarah. Yes, I desperately wanted to throw up.

I hurried inside like my ass was on fire when she opened her door. For the first time I didn't look at her but could feel her eyes on me.

"You look like you've had a hell of a day," she said.

What was wrong with me? Thinking I could come up here and tell her the biggest secret of my life, something I'd never told anyone, when I could barely even stand her looking at me without blushing. Once I made the hasty decision not to tell her anything I relaxed considerably.

"You don't know what my job's like," I said churlishly, furious with the world and with myself. "I should have studied art history."

"What did you study?" she asked and handed me a glass of wine. I looked at it suspiciously, sniffed it. She had never offered me a drink before, not even a cup of coffee. Was I that much of a mess?

"Behavioral science," I said and took a large gulp.

"Your job is difficult, distressing. You sacrifice yourself for it willingly."

"Yes."

"Did you want to talk about your job? I assumed you came here to get away from personal stuff, not dwell on it."

"Why do you assume that?" I was still defensive, I cringed at myself.

"Because I never ask you about it but you keep coming back." She paused and I could still feel her eyes on me, I stared at my glass, took another sip, another. "You're a good person, Eden. What you do is invaluable."

"Maybe I'm not such a good person."

"No? What's bugging you?"

"The other night... When I tried to make out that Mathew and I were still together... It's not true, we broke up over a week ago, or rather, I broke up with him. I don't know why I lied, I'm just not used to telling people I'm single. I'm not used to being single..." I was rambling and I knew it but I couldn't stop.

"That's brilliant," she interrupted me.

"Why? Why is it brilliant?"

"You said you didn't love him. What are you so upset about? It might be good for you to spend some time alone, think about what you really want."

"Maybe. I'm sorry I lied."

"It wasn't even a proper lie, just a little white one." I could hear the smile in her voice but I still couldn't look at her. "You'll find someone to love, don't worry. But stop compromising your own feelings, it's one thing to do it at work but in your personal life? So not worth it."

I swallowed, how did she always know exactly what to say?

"You are psychic, aren't you?" I asked.

"Psychic and psychotic, a rare combination."

I felt I was in love with Sarah. It was getting to the point where I would have done anything for her; and as it happened, I did. But at that moment, standing in her kitchen, holding a glass of wine, everything clicked into place, I felt alive. I knew things would get harder before they got easier with regard to my own issues but I couldn't have foreseen the real storm that was brewing. For a moment, I was truly content.

"You keep moving forward," I said absently, my turn at staring into nothingness.

"Going forward might not be the best way," she said, thoughtful. "Sometimes you have to go back."

Again, her tone prickled the back of my neck, but I got the sense she wasn't talking about me.

"What do you mean?" I asked cautiously.

"All directions are possible, don't allow the constraints of society to fixate on one alone."

She took a few steps toward me, reached out and fingered the crucifix around my neck; I held my breath.

"Why do you wear it? You're not a believer."

"How do you know that?" But she only kept questioning me with her eyes, so close. "I wear it out of respect for my father." She touched my cheek softly and I almost bit my tongue.

"Sweet, sweet warrior. Always defending other people's causes and never your own."

"What cause do I have?"

She leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. Soft, innocent and so finite. She turned away.

"I have to kick you out again. There's somewhere I need to be," she said.

She knew my cause. Agape, flushed, heart pounding, I tried to collect myself.

"Where... Where are you going this time?"

She tapped the side of her nose and said no more.

I watched her leave the building and locked myself back inside. Like a dead weight I sank onto the sofa and Gene curled up comfortingly beside me. I scratched behind her ears and waited for my brain to catch up with my racing heart. I'd never felt such a soft mouth on mine before. I wasn't thinking dirty thoughts, could barely think, but when I went to the bathroom a while later I was shocked to find myself a drenched mess. Forced to admit how long and how completely I had denied my natural desires, I didn't know if I should cry, laugh or masturbate. I took Gene for a walk instead and tried not to think about it.
Part 2

Sarah disappeared for three days. More than 72 hours of me itching to get home and check if she was back, waiting, watching. I had no clue what her kiss meant - did she feel like I did or was she just making a point? I was so overwrought I felt sure my hair was going to start falling out. She had never disappeared for three days before. Was she in trouble? I had been very serious when I told her I worried about her. I didn't know what to do - I'd never asked for a number because I took it for granted she was right upstairs from me.

By Saturday I was in a slump. I should have been happy I had the day free but my depressed mood hit me as soon as I woke up. Generally when this happened I busied myself with systematic work; backed up chores, phone calls, paper and housework.

One of the items on my To Do list was buy a copy of Motivation & Emotion by David Edwards; I'd had nothing to read before sleep lately and using screens just before bed wasn't healthy. Visiting the retail store seemed preferable to ordering it online, other books usually caught my eye without having to do refined searches. I ditched the car, plugged buds in my ears and started the long walk to Jackson Boulevard where there was a Bookland outlet. It was a fine morning, the sun bright and glittering through the red and orange leaved trees dotting the streets. The air was refreshingly crisp after the long summer we'd had. Moving steadily through the changing scenery and probably doing damage to my ear drums with Andy C remixes, my tension began to soften.

I was just heading into the store when I spotted a figure further up the street and walking away from me. A glimpse from the corner of my eye that could so easily turn out to be someone else, a misconstruction by my biased imagination. I stopped and peered at her, same golden hair, half caught in her coat collar, half falling down her back, same fluid movements, somehow both lazy and determined. I had the strangest feeling of déjà vu. I backed away from Booklands entrance and began walking in her direction, at first so I could catch up and talk to her, make sure she was okay. As we got further along the street, I hung back, more concerned about what I could say without seeming like a needy twit.

I watched uncertainly as she pushed her way into the corner building behind two other wayfarers. I studied the sign above the door and looked at my phone. A bar? At ten thirty in the morning? Maybe she was having brunch, I thought, but it didn't look like the kind of place you went into for food. I followed her.

Dimly lit with heavily tinted windows, it was dark inside after the brightness of the morning sun. A large place with booths built into the walls and an island in the central cavern where a black-clad barman tended to a couple leaning against the countertop. I slipped stealthily into the booth closest to me so I could study my surroundings without drawing attention.

An old Fleetwood Mac song, Go Your Own Way hummed gently through the speakers. By no means crowded, I was still surprised at how many customers there were at such an early hour, and nursing drinks too, pitchers of beer, and tumblers of whiskey. It didn't smell as bad as I assumed a bar should after a raucous night - it was relatively clean and well ventilated with just a faint tinge of bourbon and coke in the air.

Sarah had tucked herself into a booth, like me, without ordering anything. I was afraid she had noticed me come in but she was angled less toward me and more toward the bar. I watched her, knowing I should go and say hi but hesitating. Perhaps she was meeting someone. Maybe she would turn and see me anyway but as I watched I realized her attention was completely occupied. She was staring at the couple by the alcohol source, now seated on barstools and giggling together. Staring in a way I'd never seen her look at anyone before. Was I mistaken? I observed them myself. The man had longish blond, messy hair, jeans and shirt unbuttoned at the top, the woman dark hair, ankle boots, and a thin, tailored coat. Her shift dress would have been sexy on a Friday night but was slightly trashy on a Saturday morning. The guys hand was so far up her leg it should have been embarrassing.

Go Your Own Way morphed into Little Lies and as I sat observing a strange sensation came over me. The 70's retrospect was pulling me out of reality. I was in a bar late morning, finally having discovered my secret passion and the way I was dealing with it came dangerously close to stalking. Yet for some reason I felt peaceful. Sarah was definitely watching the couple at the bar and I wondered what interest she could possibly have in them; they looked like they'd just pulled an all-nighter and were reluctant to finish their bender. Were they the ones that entered the bar just before her? Had she been following them? Unlike them, Sarah seemed fresh and sober and what little I could judge of her expression looked something like malice. Something was afoot.

The tiny window over the front door was the only unshaded one and a thin strip of sunlight beamed through and hit the floor not far from me; dust motes whirled in the bright ray, accentuating the darkness that reigned in the rest of the bar.

I thought about my day and realized if I wanted to continue with it I would have to make my presence known. She could hate me, tell me to piss off but I wouldn't be able to concentrate on my plans if I left now, and watching her this way was just plain spooky.

Apprehensively, I approached. She didn't tear her eyes from the couple until I sat down opposite in her booth. A moment of raised brows replaced with ...was it understanding? Little Lies ended and The Chain began. Sarah didn't speak at first but looked at me sedately. I shut my eyes and tapped my fingers on the table.

"I like this song," I said, forgetting the circumstances for a second.

"You're here," she said strangely, as if she had been wondering when I'd show up, and returned her gaze to the couple. "Are you alright?"

"I saw you out in the street, I was going to ask you the same thing. You've been gone for three days."

"As you can see, I'm well," she said, her vigil unbroken.

"Who are they?" I asked, pulling myself together and nodding toward the couple.

"Curiosity killed the cat," Sarah said, but she didn't look angry. As usual she appeared to accept my presence without questioning it. The malice was gone, she was almost smiling.

"The cat has nine lives. Why are you watching them?"

A new man entered the bar and Sarah's interest was caught. We watched as he strode toward the couple and began yelling at the woman while the male smirked silently on and several other patrons glanced at them languidly. The new man was clearly furious with her for drinking and flirting. He looked like he was about to hit her and I was glad the beefy bartender was standing by with a keen eye. Sarah's face shone in a way that made me feel a little uneasy. With barely concealed restraint the angry man told the dark-haired woman they were finished and stalked back out the door. The woman, unruffled, swayed slightly on her stool then turned back to her drink and the other man who returned his hand to her leg with a grin. They resumed talking quietly.

"Look at her," Sarah said. "She's a mess."

"Rough night maybe," I agreed loosely.

"Rough year more like." There was a glint in her eye, as if it pleased her.

"Sarah, why are you watching some poor girl?" It occurred to me that she could respond with exactly the same question for me but she didn't.

"Poor girl," she snorted. "I'm going to say hi. You can come if you want."

"Hold up, are you going to tell me what's going on? Do you know her?"

"Something's wrong and she's going to help me with it." Her voice had an edge to it - excitement - and I began to worry, but it wasn't my place to question Sarah's state of mind.

"She can't help you with anything, she's drunk. I'll help, what do you need?"

"You have a part to play maybe ...but her," she smiled towards the woman and watched as her companion got unsteadily to his feet and made his way to the men's room. "It's the right time."

She slid out of her position and headed toward the bar; curious and pleased my presence had been approved, I was not about to leave her side. What else was I going to do? Go home and wallow in self-pity? With a compelling mixture of standoffish amusement and concern I observed as Sarah got so close to the woman she knocked against her, almost sending her toppling off her stool.

"That was uncalled for," the woman said with a curse and I couldn't help agreeing. "The place is practically empty."

Sarah ignored her, turned to me standing a couple of feet down, and asked if I wanted anything.

"Pass," I answered and Sarah finally faced the woman glaring angrily at her. She hadn't backed off from being so close and it looked for all the world like she was either hitting on her or trying to intimidate her.

"What about you?" she asked, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes. "You can do better than that urine."

She was right, whatever the woman was drinking it did look like urine. Cider, maybe, I wondered.

"Considering you just about knocked me onto the floor, I think you owe me," she said, still attempting to sound hard but obviously put at ease by the offer of a decent drink. "I'll have a Balvenie Doublewood 12, Arnie, neat."

"That's an expensive drink," Sarah said, showing her dimples. "What do I get for it?"

I felt a minute pang of jealousy which I pushed irately to the depths of my awareness.

After a brief glance at me, the woman sized Sarah up but her eyes weren't well focused so she wasn't doing a great job. I had seen this level of intoxication many times and it had as much to do with lack of sleep as anything. I watched, wide-eyed, as she grabbed the glass the barman pushed at her and swallowed it in two large, slow gulps. She turned back to Sarah with a ridiculous, satisfied smile on her face.

"You can have anything you want," she said.

"Can I? Oh, how the mighty have fallen," Sarah shook her head. "Don't you recognize me, Laney?"

I raised an eyebrow as the woman squinted and studied Sarah inquiringly for at least 15 seconds. Any trace of jealousy vanished; acquaintance or not, this woman wasn't someone I needed to be envious of.

"I'll give you a hint - you once tried to dye my hair black and with fountain pen ink."

Another few seconds and then her eyes and smile widened in recognition. She stood up.

"No way... Sarah?" she gushed and Sarah leaned away from her; I imagined the woman's breath was not pleasant.

"In the flesh."

"Sez!" She flung her arms around Sarah who made a face at me over her shoulder. I had no idea what she was up to but was thoroughly entertained. I wouldn't have missed learning something about Sarah's past for the world.

"My little friend!" the woman laughed and finally released Sarah from her grip. "How the hell are you?"

"Hey." The man from before wandered up with a bleary grin. "Who're your friends?"

Sarah's face contorted in a patently insincere smile.

"You," she said emphatically, "are out of luck. She's coming with us." She took the woman by the elbow and tugged her toward the booth we'd been in.

"Day-um! Can I come too?" he slurred.

"Mm, tempting but no," Sarah called back and the woman turned and waved her fingers bye with a giggle.

"Do you even know that guy's name?" Sarah asked distractedly. "Where's your self-respect?"

"Self-respect?" she laughed. I edged into the booth across from the woman and watched as Sarah went back to the bar. "Nice of Sarah to introduce us. I'm Laney," she said and held a clammy hand toward me.

"Eden," I said, shaking it with a smile. "Good to meet you." I meant it too - Laney could tell me things about my private obsession I wouldn't otherwise know.

Sarah returned with a bottle and glasses.

"I need to keep Laney happy," she commented and the other woman smiled big. "She and I are going to have a conversation." She pushed a glass toward me and held the bottle over it. "Will you join us?"

"Uh..."

"If you want to hang around, you might find you need a drink," she said ominously, then added "I bet it's been a long time since you broke with routine," with a mischievous expression and I melted. She was actually inviting me to do something with her.

I considered my To Do list - nothing that couldn't be put off a little longer. When in Rome, I thought and gave in easily with a nod.

"Okay, go on then." I felt myself swept along by the current - like I was really going to say no to Sarah and my curiosity over what she was up to was intense. "You two know each other how?"

"We were childhood friends," Sarah said.

"No shit," I responded, pleasantly surprised.

"Yup. Sarah and me go way back, I can't believe you're here."

"It's good to see you. How've you been?"

"Fucking great. Working for the district attorney's office. Doing well," she said, nursing her glass like a prized possession.

"Uh huh," Sarah responded with a touch of disbelief.

"You're a lawyer, Laney?" I asked.

"ADA. Fighting the good fight," she nodded.

"A bit like you, huh Eden? But maybe it's just overcompensation with her," Sarah said and Laney chuckled.

"Overcompensation for what?" Foolish of me to think I'd get a proper answer out of Sarah just because we had other company. I wondered fleetingly if her being a lawyer was significant to why Sarah needed this woman.

"Ignore her, she's being facetious."

"As always," Sarah said with a pasty smile.

My first impressions on meeting Laney were, as you can imagine, pretty dismal. She was in a bar drinking heavily on a Saturday morning. She had clearly been up all night and was apparently not above flirting with random, similarly drunken men under the witness of what appeared to be a partner. These things aside and despite her somewhat inebriated state, she seemed both intelligent and lacking the hostility one might expect from the sleep-deprived, booze-soaked woman. Observing her, I judged she would likely be very attractive in a less bedraggled, abstinent condition.

"What are you up to now?" she asked Sarah.

"Full immersion in the world of art."

"That's right, you always were artistically inclined."

"True, but I study other peoples art not create my own."

"Those who can't do, criticize," Laney said with a giggle. "I have to say, Sarah. You look fantastic. Who would have thought, you were such a scrawny little kid."

"Really Laney, because you look like absolute shit."

I tried quite hard not to laugh but most of what Sarah was saying seemed to be going in one ear and out the other with Laney who merely chuckled at the insult and took another glug from her glass. It was something of a relief that she at least wasn't an angry drunk. Yet anyway. She did, however, pull her loose hair around to the front and ran her fingers through it, a meager attempt to correct her state of disarray. I noticed the bulky metal holding the heavy, rather ugly chain clasped at the back of her neck.

"What are you wearing?" I asked, peering at the chain and trying not to sound critical.

She felt her throat and chuckled.

"Nipple clamps. Shit, I'd forgotten."

"Nipple clamps? Around your neck? Jesus, Laney." Sarah had no difficultly expressing her own disapproval.

"Relax," she said, fiddling with the clasps and allowing the chain to fall heavily into her lap, revealing the delicate silver necklace underneath. "I put it on last night as a joke and forgot it was even there. Damn, Sarah, you've turned into a square."

"That guy before. Did you just get dumped?" I asked to change the subject.

"I did indeed."

"He looked like he was going to hit you. You don't seem too concerned about it?"

"I'm not," Laney shrugged. "He's an asshole. Long time coming."

"Thought you liked the assholes," Sarah said with a flourish and Laney snorted.

"How would you know? I haven't seen you in..." She looked lost and I even detected a perplexing glimmer of fear in her eyes before she raised her glass back to her mouth.

"Sixteen years," Sarah finished.

"Sixteen years?!" I gasped.

"Eden is newly single as well," Sarah went on before I had the chance to ask about their history. "Unlike you, she was quite upset about it though. How are you feeling now?"

"Mathew wasn't an asshole, that's why it's different. He didn't deserve it."

"Why'd you split then?" Laney asked.

"We wanted different things, it wouldn't have worked out."

"She didn't love him."

This was not a subject I had much interest in and when Blinded by The Light started through the speakers, my eyes were drawn to the giant screen on the wall to my right. The music playing wasn't the kind of stuff I downloaded or played on my own, but it brought a sense of nostalgia and, to an extent, inspiration with it. I must have floated away, lost in a daydream for a few minutes.

"Eden..."

At the sound of my name I pulled my gaze from the screen to find both women looking at me quizzically.

"Sorry... Pardon?" I stuttered and Laney laughed.

"Are you drunk already?" Sarah asked with a chuckle.

"Leave her alone, she's enjoying herself."

"You're sitting there with this weird smile, tapping your fingers and you're totally not even with us."

"What? No..." I gestured toward the screen. "I haven't heard this song in years. I was just thinking how it could be sped up and remixed into a drum n bass track."

"Are you a musician?" Laney asked.

"It's just residual interest leftover from my teenage years, for a while I wanted to be a DJ. I still mess around with sound; it's relaxing."

"I did not know that," Sarah said. "Do you do it digitally?"

"Decks and vinyl."

"Cool sideline," Laney said, dipping her finger in her glass lazily.

"Were you talking to me?"

"Eh," Sarah waved glibly, "we were just analyzing your loveless relationship."

"Oh..." I was glad I'd tuned out.

"What about you, Sarah?" Laney peered at Sarah's hands. "You never got married?"

"Married?" I said, sounding unaccountably startled by the idea.

"Sarah was one of those annoying girls who talked about which celebrity she was going to marry," Laney explained.

"And nine year olds always know exactly what they want for the future," Sarah said cynically. "I think those little fantasies had gone out the window by the time I hit puberty. And as for relationship status, I find it very difficult to trust people, even now."

This wasn't something I'd ever heard from Sarah before and although it did fit in with the many bizarre conversations we'd had and her strange set of hobbies, I remained unenlightened as to why. Laney didn't ask for an explanation though; she nodded and for a moment looked truly sad.

"How close were you when you were kids?" The dynamic between the two wasn't exactly making me feel like I was a fifth wheel and despite the oddness of the circumstances, it was the ideal opportunity to gain some practical insight into Sarah's secretive history.

"We were pretty close ...for a while," Laney said. "Peas in a pod."

"There were three of us," Sarah added. "I was at school with Leigh from the beginning but we didn't get really tight until around the age of eight when Laney entered the picture. She was a year younger but she got put in our class because she's a smart cookie, always has been. Leigh and I had families who weren't around much so we ended up at Laney's house a lot. We liked it, her parents were awesome. They were older and both semi-retired, so nice too, they left us to our own devices most of the time. Older parents are like that; they'd had four kids before Laney and were pretty lax about the whole business."

"So, you were unsupervised there?" I asked, ecstatic to hear Sarah talk so openly.

"Good times," Laney nodded, smiling dreamily. "We had a big property and there was this beautiful, rocky stream running along the bottom of our back yard."

"And animals," Sarah added. "They had two dogs and a cat. And fucking chickens running around out the back, remember Laney? They were quite tame, I was in heaven. Chickens are so funny, they have a hierarchy you know; they used to peck each other but not us. They'd vie for our attention and for bread."

I couldn't help laughing.

"There was Lilith, Bernadette, Joanna, Katherine," she counted off on her fingers. "And Polly. She was the smallest but definitely the meanest."

"I can't believe you remember all the names," Laney said, shaking her head.

"I remember everything," Sarah replied, catching her eye. Laney's smile fell away abruptly and she looked back at her glass. Sarah rarely caught my eye like that and when she did it usually meant something. What it was with Laney I didn't know, but the feeling passed when Sarah began talking lightly again. "I loved spending my weekends there. Are your folks still alive?"

"Dad is, doddery old fool. Mom went a couple of years ago."

"Sorry."

"Eh," she shrugged.

"What was Sarah like when she was little?" I asked.

"Sarah was a dreamer," Laney smiled. "Away with the fairies most of the time. Until she lost her temper, that is."

"You're one to talk. Laney was a total bitch, always provoking me."

"It probably sounds weird to someone who wasn't there - we had actual physical fights," Laney explained. "I remember Sarah pulling half my hair out once."

"You broke my arm pushing me off the roof of the chicken coop. I had to beg my parents to let me come back after that."

"It was all just fun, Eden. Kids get hurt," Laney said, observing my startled expression. She grabbed the bottle and poured herself another large whiskey. I looked at Sarah but she didn't seem worried, though, like me, she was barely sipping her own drink.

"Things were simpler back then. How do you like being a prosecutor?" she asked, switching topics.

"Yes," I said. I still had a strong feeling Sarah's motivation for reconnecting with Laney might lie behind her profession. Her conversational references to law had been frequent. "Do you do criminal or mainly civil cases?"

"My last case was a failure," she said dejectedly and swirled her glass. "An aggravated assault we were unable to follow through with because the victim repudiated her statements." She shook her head. "She was terrified."

"Must be hard to turn away from stuff like that," I commented.

"Is that why you're burning the candle at both ends?" Sarah said, clearly not sharing my sympathy.

"I like a drink," Laney responded coolly. "If you have something to say, just say it."

"Believe me, I intend to. I'm wondering when this assault case happened."

"Why does it matter?"

"It matters because I want to know how far you take your lies these days."

"Sarah..." I said, starting to feel uncomfortable.

"Are you still pissed off with me? Get over it," Laney scoffed.

"To be honest," Sarah continued, "I was surprised you greeted me so warmly. We didn't exactly part on good terms, did we? Or have you killed so many brain cells you can't remember?"

"Okay, okay," Laney held her hand up. "Enough already. What do you want me to say? I'm sorry?"

"Are you sorry?"

A moment of silence as I looked back and forth between them, Sarah glaring and Laney impassive.

"Sorry for what? What happened between you two?"

"I thought we were just two old friends having a drink. Why do you have to dig up shit better left in the past?"

"It's not in the past though, is it? See, I know that you lost your job at the DA's office three months ago because of your drinking, and that you haven't worked since. I know you're spiraling and you don't even care. "

Surprised by Sarah's disclosure I peered at Laney; her expression changed to one of irate confusion but she managed to keep herself surprisingly well under control considering how steadily she was drinking. It was the mark of a seasoned alcoholic, something I hadn't picked up on until now.

"How do you know I lost my job?"

"It's true, isn't it?"

"I was asked to take time off, I wasn't disbarred from practice."

"You don't seem to be trying very hard to get back on track, Laney."

"I'm sorry but what the hell is this? What does it have to do with anything?" Laney asked.

"We were talking about lies. It pertains to that."

"I didn't lie, I told you about my last case."

"You said you are working and that was straight out bullshit \- you were doing well; you were fighting the good fight. You stayed strong for a long time, but it was never going to last with the devil breathing down your neck. I'm not here to nitpick with you about how to define a lie though."

I felt some sympathy for Laney; I wouldn't have blamed her if she'd simply got up and left, but she held her ground. If she had been reacting badly to the accusations I might have left myself but as it was I was interested to see where Sarah was heading with this.

"What are you here for then? This isn't a chance meeting, it's some kind of ambush." She looked at me. "Are you a part of this as well?"

"No, I honestly don't know what she's talking about," I said defensively, keeping a query about the devil comment to myself. "Sarah?"

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice placated. "You're right, we can be civil; I shouldn't have got confrontational."

"Yeah, well. You're lucky I'm in a good mood."

"I've got to admit, Laney, you can hold your liquor," she said and refilled her glass. "It's understandable you want to drink. Why did you choose law anyway? You could have been anything you wanted."

Laney shrugged, cradled her glass and appeared to forget about their previous words. My head was muddled. What disagreement had these two had to cause such animosity from Sarah?

"I wanted to do something useful," she said.

"But ended up discovering that law doesn't always mean justice?"

"Yeah, I guess," she said vaguely and when I nodded in agreement she tilted her head, looking at me. "What do you do?"

"I'm a caseworker for Social Services."

"Go on," Laney puffed. "You're even more of a masochist than I am."

"Not everyone who has a self-sacrificing job is a masochist," Sarah responded lightly.

"I suppose not all masochists have self-sacrificing jobs either. What does your job involve, Eden?"

This was something Sarah herself had never asked for details on so I was a little surprised by Laney's interest.

"I respond to reports of abuse requiring immediate investigation, conduct forensic interviews, assess suitability of living conditions; evaluate levels of risk..." I stopped when I saw the look on Laney's face. She appeared to be coming to some kind of realization in her head, she went still and narrowed her eyes, first at me then at Sarah.

"It's not really that bad," I said with a shrug. "I feel like I'm doing something worthwhile too ...most of the time."

"Her value system is far more accurate than yours, Laney."

"Sorry Eden, I don't mean to seem rude. But you should know..." She shook her head as if trying to clear it. "Sarah may not have lured you here with the purest of intentions."

I frowned in confusion, the subtext of this three-way interaction was almost completely lost on me; I was pretty determined to find out what it was though.

"Sarah didn't lure me here at all," I pointed out carefully.

"One thing hasn't changed much since we were kids. I still believe in fate. Some things are just meant to be," Sarah said.

"Even the bad ones?" Laney asked challengingly.

Sarah simply sat, demurely, staring at the table and ignoring the question.

"I'm going to the bathroom," she said finally.

"I'll come with you." I desperately wanted to have a private word and try to convince her to leave.

"Actually, can you watch her for a minute? Make sure she doesn't just run off with the bottle?" she nodded at Laney who collapsed her head in her hands.

"Yeah," I said, disappointed. "Sure."

"Sarah's got issues," I heard Laney say from beneath her hands.

"What is it between you two?" I took the opportunity to at least try to get a straight answer out of Laney.

"I'm not even sure of that myself anymore," she said.

I found this difficult to believe but shouldn't have expected accurate information from someone who had already proved themselves to be untrustworthy.

"16 years is a long time, I guess you've both changed a lot," I mused.

"How do you two know each other?" Laney asked and twisted her head to look at me.

"We live in the same apartment building."

"Does she know?"

"Know what?"

"That you're completely in love with her," Laney said with a smug expression and my stomach rose to my throat.

"That's ridiculous." I tried to keep my voice steady and Laney burst out laughing. How the hell people in such a state could still end up being so astute was past my understanding. No one in my life but this sad, drunken woman in front of me had ever suspected my sexuality, or if they had they certainly hadn't mentioned it to my face like this. Laney had not just divulged my orientation but had pinpointed it dead center on Sarah. She was still giggling to herself when Sarah got back from the bathroom and I was glad of the gloomy lighting to hide my blush. Thankfully Laney did not make any further mention.

Sarah settled back into her seat and sipped her drink. She smiled at me and...was that a wink? It was; brief and so subtle it may not have been intentional but my heartbeat quickened perceptibly.

"Do you remember our first taste of alcohol, Laney?"

"Hmm," Laney grunted, her head back in her hands.

"How old were you?" I asked, happy to return to the subject of Sarah's past.

"We were nine," she said, eyes still on Laney.

"That's young! What did you raid the liquor cabinet or something?"

"Not quite," Sarah laughed and focused her attention on me. "I said we were unsupervised there, but it wasn't entirely true. Sometimes Laney's older brother, Jared, would watch us - purely out of concern of course."

"How old was he?"

"Um..." Sarah squinted, looking thoughtful. "I guess when we were nine, he would have been around 16. Yeah, 16. I remember how awesome we thought it was that this cool, really cute boy wanted to sacrifice his precious teenage time for a bunch of silly girls. We'd ask him all sorts of questions, Leigh had a massive crush on him."

"Sweet," I chuckled.

"Very sweet," Sarah agreed. "Anyway, I don't know where he was getting the booze, but he had this hip flask which he always managed to keep topped up with spirits. He called it rocket fuel because it was a mix of whatever he could skim from whatever bottles he found. I guess he was the one raiding the liquor cabinet."

"Bad boy," I said with a smile. "It must have been pretty potent stuff."

"Yes," Sarah nodded. "He'd give us sips from it, gradually those sips became bigger and bigger - he'd dare us to swig as much as we could. One day he took me into a room on my own to 'make sure I was normal' he said. He got me to undress and took pictures of me."

"What?" My smile dropped away. Startled, I turned to her. Her tone remained unchanged as she said this and I wondered if I had misunderstood her meaning. She nodded slowly as I stared at her.

"Yeah. He did this a couple of times before he graduated to touching."

"Um... Sarah, that's not right," I said in a state of bewilderment at the abrupt change in mood.

Laney slammed her palm on the table suddenly and lifted her head, interrupting our whispered exchange. I jumped at the surprise of it, after her prolonged silence I'd sort of forgotten her presence. Sarah looked at her, unsurprised as she glared angrily and pointed an index finger.

"Don't spin shit, Sarah," she warned. "That never happened."

Sarah laughed suddenly; a laugh full of bitterness and resentment.

"Oh, it happened, and a whole lot more. Don't forget Laney, I was there, you don't have to lie to me."

"What the fuck?" I observed the two women as they regarded each other. "Does anyone feel like telling me what is going on here? Sarah, if what you're saying is true..."

"I might have known you were heading in this direction," Laney interrupted loudly.

My phone started ringing from my coat pocket, I glanced at Jessica's number, shook my head in frustration and switched the damn thing off completely. I shoved it back out of sight impatiently and stared at Sarah sideways, brow knitted.

"What's happening here, Eden," she began calmly, "is that I'm confronting Laney with facts that she's denied for way too long - namely that her brother is a sick fuck who's done serious damage."

"Jesus Christ." I shut my eyes briefly then swallowed what was in my glass in two large gulps, feeling the burn of it at the back of my throat.

Laney spread her hands on the table palms down and Sarah watched her.

"Sarah's a liar," she said, visibly attempting to remain calm. "She always had a chip on her shoulder."

"I've never known Sarah to lie before," I said, lost. Sarah turned to me.

"Would you ever advise people who were abused as children to 'get over it'?" she asked.

"Of course not." I got the feeling I was being used as a pawn in her battle against Laney but the seriousness of the subject matter and my feelings for Sarah meant I was less offended and more eager to be of service. All too quickly the day's dealings pulled my discerning nature in by the horns in a way I couldn't have predicted. "You'll have to forgive me if this is a bit of a shock," I said, staring at my hands in a daze.

"What, you mean Sarah hasn't whispered these lies to you before?" Laney snorted. "Dammit, what is your problem bringing all this up after so many years? To think I was actually happy to see you again."

"Not exactly in top form though, are you?"

"In fact, maybe Laney isn't in the best state to be having this conversation with?" I suggested.

"It's the only state she has now. Isn't that right? No, this is long overdue and she's going to confront it or..."

"Or what?" Laney interjected aggressively.

"Or it's going to kill you. Admit it, Laney, you're fucked. You've barely had a sober moment for months, you're drinking yourself to death and it's all because of him."

"Sarah," I began slowly, rubbing the bridge of my nose. "You're saying this boy abused you, took you into a room on your own. Isn't it possible that Laney didn't know anything about it?"

"No, it isn't possible. Because he was doing it with them too."

"Is that true, Laney?" I asked, far from expecting an honest answer.

"She's spent years convincing herself it never happened. She won't..."

"Things happened," Laney said, stopping Sarah midsentence. "But it wasn't like Sarah says. Jared was practically a kid himself, he was just fooling around."

"Oh my God, Laney!" Sarah said with an expression of alarm I'd never seen on her before. "You can't be serious. Do you really think all this denial is working for you?"

Still in an attitude of disturbance I didn't know how to respond, too much was coming at me at once. I attempted feebly to treat the situation with a degree of rationality.

"Isn't this something that would be best taken to the police?" I asked.

"What do you think, Laney? Should I take it to the police?"

"She's making a big deal out of nothing," Laney said, tugging anxiously at her stringy hair.

"It doesn't sound like nothing to me but I still don't know what we're actually talking about. Sarah?"

Continuing to stare at Laney, Sarah began to speak quietly to me.

"He got to Leigh first, I know that. She adored him, such a sweetheart and so trusting. She was by far the weakest of us. Once he'd had a taste of it he moved on to you, didn't he Laney? His own little sister. I know this because you two had already started acting weird. I was more wary of him and it took a while for him to get to me. It was at least a year after the undressing incidents started and he wasn't pretending to be nice anymore, not with me anyway. It was straight out force."

"You're talking about rape?" I asked, struggling with the information; it was one thing to encounter this kind of thing at work, totally another to be blindsided with it. By Sarah.

"You and Leigh denied it so committedly because you thought it was your fault, because he had successfully manipulated you and he was still being nice to you, right?"

"You've got such fucked up ideas," Laney said, but all the strength had gone out of her voice. When I heard that I knew for sure that what Sarah was saying was true. Laney knew it was true.

"Manipulated or not, it's still rape if you're a child," I said, anger beginning to drown out my surprise.

"You're damn right it is," Sarah agreed. "Laney always had difficulty accepting that."

"I don't... I'm not sure how to..." I began but trailed off in a tangle of uncertainty.

"You see, Eden," Sarah continued, "it took a while but I realized the way he was treating us was unacceptable. And when he actually forced himself on me, I never went back there. I was ten then; I didn't say anything to anyone, but I never went back. Made every excuse in the book to avoid spending time with Laney and even Leigh. But I saw how much they'd changed and I knew Leigh was still hanging out there at the weekend. We spoke at school occasionally but circumvented the whole subject, as you do when it's something you're confused and ashamed about. We drifted further and further apart and by the time we got to middle school Leigh was a mess. I knew Laney was too but she was a hell of a lot better at hiding it. I plucked up every ounce of courage I had and confessed to my parents some of the things that had gone on at Laney's."

"Thank fuck for that," I breathed in relief.

"Yes," Sarah nodded. "You would think so, wouldn't you? Predictably my parents freaked and they in turn contacted Laney's folks, who denied any knowledge; so they made a complaint to the police."

"He was arrested?" I asked.

"The complaint was followed up, he was investigated. But he was never charged or convicted."

"What? Why?"

"Because Laney and Leigh lied. They denied anything had happened. I admit I played a part in hiding the total truth as well. I never told anyone exactly how far he'd gone, I thought it would be enough to just tell them part of the truth and point them in the right direction. But when Laney and Leigh were interviewed they said I made the whole thing up. I don't know exactly what was said in those interviews but I assume Laney added some colorful reasons as to why I lied."

Bewildered, I glanced from Laney, who had her head in her hands again, to Sarah, who stared at her.

"What do you mean, you hid the truth as well?" I asked.

"Almost two years had passed by the time I finally told my parents and I never admitted to the actual rape because I was ashamed. If I had just told people sooner and been completely honest about how far he'd gone they would have been able to convict him easily. Semen, tearing, actual physical evidence. But I was a little girl, I was petrified." She peered at Laney. "It wasn't until later when I realized how much you and Leigh had changed and it was going to keep happening with you that I finally said something. I thought that I could stop it, but I was wrong."

"Always so generous," Laney said bitterly and Sarah shook her head at her.

"You know I know the truth. You're only making more of a fool of yourself the longer you keep lying."

Laney stayed silent, staring down at her glass expressionless.

"What about Leigh?" Sarah asked sadly. "Didn't you care about her at all?"

"What kind of a dumbass question is that?" Laney responded aggressively. "I loved Leigh, more than you ever did. It did her head in when you said those things, I was there for her."

"I bet Jared was there for her too."

"Shut the fuck up!"

"Don't you dare scream at me you lying sack of shit." Sarah's voice was low. "Why are you still trying to protect him? Or did you like having his..."

"No!" Laney cut her off loudly, took a few chugs of whiskey then sneered. "You act all superior, as if you know things. You don't know shit, Sarah. You've got no fucking idea. You didn't have to live with him. I'm the one who..." She stopped short and I stared at her.

"You admit it then?" Silence.

"I don't feel well," Laney said, shoulders hunched over the table. All the energy appeared to have left her limbs and her face was even more gaunt and grey than before.

"Are you going to be sick?" I asked with concern.

"No," she said. "I just need to pee and get out of here."

"Good," Sarah agreed. She slid from the booth and helped Laney to her feet and toward the bathroom. With unreserved relief I followed suit, eager to leave before matters could deteriorate any further. I had an undeveloped idea that once I got the chance to talk to Sarah properly and alone I could help her figure out where to go next with the issue. When we left the bar Sarah managed to flag down a cab within seconds and Laney began to wander unsteadily in the opposite direction.

"Oh no you don't," Sarah said, grasped her by the arm and pulled her gently toward the waiting cab as I watched. "You're coming with me. Today's the day, Laney."

"Oh?" Laney giggled and stumbled slightly. "You're not really my type, Sarah, but I'm sure your friend here would be up for it," she slurred. Sarah pushed her into the back seat and she slid across awkwardly.

Trying very hard to ignore Laney's blatant remark I hissed, "What the hell are you up to now?" to Sarah.

"I haven't finished with her yet and she's in no state to go off on her own anyway."

'Not finished' worried me but I couldn't argue with her logic; God knows where Laney could end up in her current condition.

"Are you coming?" Sarah asked, stooping into the car herself.

"You're going home?"

"Uh-huh."

Despite my resolve to simply sip, the proceedings in the bar led me to consume at least three whiskeys in the space of just over an hour. Not exactly a veteran drinker, I was tipsy myself. I climbed into the backseat beside Sarah.

My thoughts flooded with the information I'd learned during the quiet journey back to Plymouth Street.

When we arrived, Laney fell onto the pavement trying to exit the cab and lay sprawled on the ground for a moment before we helped her to her feet. Her condition seemed to have deteriorated markedly during the 15 minute journey and I wondered at why. Both of us were required to help her struggle up the stairs to Sarah's apartment where she collapsed on the sofa and promptly lapsed out of consciousness.

"Laney," Sarah tried to rouse her, smacking her gently on the cheek but she was out cold.

She patted at her coat pockets then reached into the right one with a frown.

"What are you doing?" I clucked with disapproval and watched in dismay as Sarah pulled an unmarked bottle of pills from it, shook one into her hand and observed it.

"5mg Diazepam," she said. "Black market, there's no label. She probably took some in the restroom."

I crouched down next to Laney and held her wrist.

"Should I call an ambulance?" Sarah asked nervously.

"A Diazepam overdose can be dangerous with so much alcohol but her pulse feels strong and regular," I said. "She'll probably just sleep for a few hours and wake up feeling like shit. I'm guessing she's used to that though. If she's really been drinking as long as you say."

"You've had first-aid training?"

"Some."

"Dammit, Laney!" Sarah yelled in frustration.

"She should be okay," I tried to reassure her.

"Yeah, it's not that, I just..." She rubbed at her left temple, expression worried.

"What's wrong?"

"You say she could be out for hours?"

"Could be, it's unpredictable. She didn't look like she'd slept in a while and we don't know how many pills she took."

"I really need to go take care of something."

"I can stay and watch her if you want," I offered.

Sarah sat down on the edge of an armchair and put her head in her hands and I felt the most intense tug of compassion for her. I'd never seen her look so depressed.

"I'm sorry. What's come out this morning..." I threw my hands up in helplessness. "You were only ten years old and he... To you!" I couldn't keep the anger out of my voice.

"I was ten," she said and peered at the woman asleep on the couch. "Laney might have been as young as eight, I don't know. I'm not even sure if she knows anymore."

"It's not the kind of thing people forget, no matter how hard they try. What are you going to do?"

"I know you've heard things today, but you mustn't take me too seriously when I say awful stuff to Laney. I'm only trying to snap her out of the delusion she's wrapped herself in."

"I'm not a fool, I get it."

"I wasn't calling you a fool," she glanced again at the woman on the sofa, a softness in her eyes. "I'm just saying, Laney is a beautiful person, not one to be discounted. Under better circumstances, you would love her."

Love her? This seemed an odd thing to say and I had my doubts but I trusted Sarah and nodded reflexively in agreement.

"Anyway, like I said, I can stay and watch her if you have to go."

"I've taken up enough of your time already." She stood up and shook her head sadly. "What a shambles."

"It's no trouble, Sarah. She shouldn't be left alone and I want to help."

"I know you do, but this is..." She looked so torn, then she focused on my eyes. It might have been the first time I held her gaze properly without blushing. I could see her recognize the sincerity in mine.

"Please? Just let me help?"

She leaned forward and hugged me tightly. She'd never hugged me before, barely ever touched me. I had never been much of a hugger, but having her arms around me felt like the most incredible thing in the world. It was like a warm wave of energy was being transferred between us. I wanted her to kiss me again and after everything I'd heard, felt guilt-ridden that I was still allowing my hormones to run amuck.

"Thank you," she said as I squeezed her gently in return.

It was literally painful for me to let go when she did.

"I'm not going to ask where you're going but... Take care."

"Help yourself to anything you want, okay?" she said. "I will be back ASAP, maybe a little over an hour."

She gathered her shoulder bag and keys and left the apartment.

I switched the television on low and wandered around the living area, studying her posters, deep in thought.

I'd wanted to find out about Sarah's past and I had, but it was no triumph. The images on her walls and memories of our strange conversations suddenly took on an even darker, more personal significance but I still wasn't sure what conclusion it all pointed towards. She was trying to help Laney, I understood that; their relationship was complicated but Sarah expressed real affection for this woman. Even with a sober person her task would be a difficult one and I didn't envy her for it. I quite desperately wanted to help her.

At the bar, Laney had articulated a concern that I was there for a purpose and it did seem like Sarah was using me as a playing piece at times. This was something I couldn't grasp. That I was even there in the first place had been a total coincidence, an impulsive and somewhat out of character act on my part brought on purely by my romantic notions. Heading away from serious subject matter I started to relax when my feelings for Sarah re-entered the picture. An hour ticked by; an hour fifteen. Laney barely moved.

I sat down and tried to concentrate on the TV screen, checked my phone, but the temptation of being in the apartment alone was overwhelming. I repressed the urge for as long as possible but eventually ended up in her bedroom and looked around. Her guns were gone from the dresser. I might have wondered where they were if I wasn't so focused on the bed. Neatly made and still all in black colors. I sat down and put my head on the stack of pillows, buried my face in it. The material was smooth and cool; it smelled like her, with a faint undercurrent of fabric softener. I lay there, breathing her in, the morning's memories weakened by my yearning heart.

I believe I might have fallen asleep that way, nose in Sarah's pillow, so it was a good thing when a clatter from the living room roused me from my trance. I rose quickly and emerged to find a dazed Laney picking herself up off the floor.

"Where's the bathroom?" she said hoarsely, when she saw me.

I tried to help her but she shrugged me off and headed down the hall on her own, slow and grey.

I seated myself in front of the television again, wondering if there was something in the fridge to give her; she probably hadn't eaten in a while, she would need something in her stomach. But I could hear her in the bathroom and I imagined she wasn't ready for food just yet.

I started when I heard a key in the door and Sarah's beautiful face re-appeared.

"You're back," I said with relief and stood up as she glanced at the empty sofa.

"Where's Laney?" she asked, her voice full of panic.

"In the bathroom puking. She only woke up a few minutes ago."

"Whew," she breathed and her face relaxed. She dropped her bag on the table and flopped into one of her armchairs. I checked my watch - 2pm.

"You've been gone more than two hours. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," she smiled at me tiredly. "Sorry I was so long."

Laney crept back into the room looking like hell.

"Oh Christ, it's you," she rasped when she spotted Sarah. She collapsed back onto the sofa. "Why am I here?"

"I'll get you some water," I said.

"Bottles in the fridge, thanks, Eden. You're here because you and I have things to discuss."

"I need to go home and give Gene some biscuits," I told Sarah when I got back from the kitchen and handed Laney the bottle.

"Absolutely, thanks for your help," Sarah agreed but Laney grasped my arm unexpectedly.

"Don't leave me alone with this crazy bitch," she said in a panic and even Sarah looked surprised by her desperate plea. "She'll kill me."

"Seems like you're doing a pretty good job of that on your own," Sarah muttered.

"Sarah won't hurt you! She wanted to call an ambulance when you passed out."

"Don't you believe it," Laney pressed. "You're the only sane person here."

I'm embarrassed to say, the possibility Laney was right flitted through my mind; Sarah had guns, Sarah had a score to settle.

"I live just downstairs," I assured her, "I'll only be a few minutes." I hadn't planned on leaving for good anyway but found Sarah following me out to the stairwell and giving me a hard look.

"You shouldn't listen to her, you don't need to come back."

"I think I do. I understand what you're doing with Laney but did you see her face? She's actually scared of you."

"She's not totally anesthetized anymore, she's going to feel things."

"Just let me back in? You want to talk to her, the more relaxed she is the better and maybe you need a facilitator."

"You're going to see things, hear things, if you stay," Sarah warned. "It's not just some case at work."

"I know that. Nevertheless, maybe my experience could be of some use."

I gave Gene her Tux and grabbed a jacket from my bedroom. To my relief Sarah let me in quickly when I got back upstairs.

"Of course I do," Laney was saying. "Shit, Sarah, I'm not that far gone, you know."

I sat down in an armchair and Laney glugged thirstily at the bottle of water she'd almost finished. When she screwed the cap on and looked back and forth between us, she managed a small smile.

"Since when has someone quenching their thirst demanded such an avid audience?" she asked. "What is this anyway, some kind of intervention?"

"Hmm," Sarah looked thoughtful and nodded. "Not the way I considered it but whatever works."

"Why do either of you care how I live my life?"

"Why shouldn't we? And this is as much for me; you owe me some closure."

"You never could just get let go of things, could you?"

I kept the urge to shout an expletive to myself.

"What, like you have? How's being unemployed, getting drunk, pill popping and sleeping with a different asshole every other night working out for you?"

"You are so blowing it out of proportion," Laney responded dryly.

"Am I? Do you even remember half of what you've done for the past few weeks?"

"I think the better question is how the hell do you know? Have you been stalking me?"

There was little doubt in my mind that Sarah had been stalking Laney to at least some degree. She certainly knew a lot for someone who hadn't spoken to her for 16 years.

"Look at yourself, Laney. You're a disgrace," Sarah pointed out, ignoring the question.

"If you're just going to insult me, I'm leaving," she said and stood up.

"What makes you think I would let you do that?"

"I'm a prisoner?" Laney asked in exasperation.

"Of course not. You want to sort this out as much as I do. Or don't you agree that you're a disgrace? Are you proud of your behavior?"

"No," she said quietly and sat down. "I just don't need you to remind me of it. Is that all you want? To hurt me?"

"I think Sarah's just trying to make you face yourself," I offered my three cents.

"Maybe you find this hard to believe, but I want to help," Sarah agreed.

"By making me feel worse than I already do?"

"Cruelty and kindness and all that," Sarah said idly and Laney sniggered with contempt.

"You always were a fucking manipulator," she said.

"Actually I wasn't. That was a misconception created after I was labelled a liar and trouble-maker for telling the truth. And who was it that reinforced that unfortunate situation? You, Laney. You lied, you protected a pedophile. You had the chance to help me take him down and you were a spineless, pussy little bitch. I know you've done your best to destroy your brain but you must remember that."

"I was twelve years old!" Laney screamed and got to her feet again.

"I was twelve years old!" Sarah yelled back. "Your brother destroyed my childhood and then you took away any remaining faith I had in humanity. And now look at you, you whining little shit; I'd be a lot angrier with you if you weren't so fucking pathetic."

"You should both probably..."

"You shut up Eden," Sarah cut me off. "This isn't your ride."

"Don't get nasty with her," Laney defended me unexpectedly. "She's trying to help. It's me you're angry with."

She sat back down on the sofa and put her head in her hands. She wasn't crying but her switch from aggressive stance to feeling sorry for herself was abrupt and surprising. I stared at her then looked at Sarah whose expression relaxed.

"Sarah's right though. You're not helping yourself by staying quiet. I've seen this kind of thing a lot, you can't get rid of it - it eats away at your insides."

"Do you have any idea what I gave up trying to tell the truth?" Sarah added. "My family never treated me the same again, I wasn't to be trusted. The girl who cried wolf."

"I didn't want that," Laney said forlornly. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

It was the first time she had uttered the words and meant them. Sarah sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of her.

"I'm not showing it very well, but I don't blame you. What Jared did to us, it was unforgivable. We were happy, we were friends and he wormed his way in, took advantage of his position and destroyed our innocence. Worse than that he made us feel like it was our fault. You have to see how wrong that was. How totally fucking wrong, Laney."

Laney shut her eyes and lowered her head, tears began to fall silently down her cheeks.

"How long after you lied for him did he keep at it with you?" Sarah asked. "How long with Leigh?"

"You should probably just talk, Laney," I said.

She took several deep, slow breaths and I was surprised when she spoke in a calm tone.

"By the time the investigation was closed, he didn't want Leigh anymore, she had breasts by then. She barely even spoke to me, said we should have told the police when you did... I was a late developer though." She broke off with a sob and a deafening quiet fell over the room.

I saw tears forming in Sarah's eyes.

"Why, Sarah?" Laney asked after a protracted silence. "Why now? After all these years?"

"Better late than never. And ...things are happening."

"Are you confronting Leigh too? She lied as well." Laney lifted her head and spread her palms on her knees.

"Leigh was a follower, she did what you wanted."

"It was all my fault then." Her face was awash with anguish. "That's why you came to me."

"None of it was our fault," Sarah said softly. "I came to you because you're still here -barely, but you're still here."

"Still here? I don't understand."

"Leigh's gone. Dead."

"That's bullshit," she said and gave Sarah a slicing look. "Leigh's fine, I saw her..."

"Three years ago. You saw her three years ago, when she was at the same place you are now. She was drinking heavily. After that chance meeting with you she went downhill fast, I wonder why. She overdosed on Fentanyl and sedatives in May last year and lay in a hospital bed for a week before her organs finally gave out."

Sarah dropped a card on the sofa next to Laney who turned, picked it up, and stared in horror at the photo of a smiling, pretty woman on the cover. 'In Loving Memory of Leigh Hazel Walsh, 1989-2017' was printed below it.

"I should know, I was at the funeral."

Laney's face crumpled and she let it fall into the card, her eyes streaming. It was harrowing to watch and I automatically went to her, sat close and draped my arm across her heaving shoulders.

"Jared killed her. Just like he's killing you," Sarah continued.

"Stop it," Laney choked from her hands. "Please, stop."

"All these years and you still haven't faced the damage he's done. The damage he's still doing." She sat down on the other side of her and pulled her face around. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face blotchy and tear-stained, but she met Sarah's gaze admirably. "You aren't him, Laney. I know that a big part of your problem is guilt for not doing the right thing when you had the chance."

"You've tried to convince yourself it's not a big deal what he did," I said softly.

"Tried," Sarah emphasized.

"It won't work and you know it's not true. It's a terrible thing and you can't push it aside."

"What are you suggesting? Counselling?" she asked and Sarah snorted.

"You could consider it..." I said.

"Counselling would be putting a band aid on a broken leg," Sarah disagreed and Laney looked briefly relieved before Sarah went on, "The problem doesn't originate in Laney but in Jared. The link needs to be severed."

Laney's expression hardened.

"Do you honestly expect me to file a civil suit? Criminal charges? After so long?"

"How old are you, Laney?" I asked.

"I would be well within my rights..." Laney trailed off looking both resentful and terrified.

"She couldn't do it and she shouldn't have to. It's not what I had in mind," Sarah said and I narrowed my eyes at her. Another wave of déjà vu crept over me.

"Alright. So where are you going with all this? What is it you think you can do?" Laney's tone was a mix of challenge and hopelessness; she pulled a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose noisily.

"I feel demons on my back, Laney. Don't you?"

"Yes," she said quietly.

"They whisper things to me. But now I know. They're not demons at all, they're truths. Some good, some evil, all mushed together in a murky greyness that negates the rules we impose on ourselves with social convention. At some point you have to start listening to your voices in the absence of others' dictation."

"What are you prattling about?"

"You ask me what I can do. What the fuck do you think? I'm going to kill him," she stated unceremoniously.

Laney may not have been aware of it but I knew that tone; she wasn't kidding. The sense of déjà vu amplified. I flashed back to all our conversations; Sarah's agenda was suddenly exposed. I felt Laney turn to me as if testing for a joke but, with what I assume was a blank look tinged with worry, I continued to stare at Sarah in a kind of trance.

"That's what I can do," she mumbled, nodding to herself with a glazed expression.

"You can't be serious," Laney said after a prolonged silence and Sarah gave her a brief glance.

"I've been planning it for a long time. I'm not saying it's going to make everything better," she continued. Her tone was vapid, as if she were suggesting they go for pizza. "It's necessary though. Vermin like him should be put down and you're going to help me."

"Me?! Help you?" Laney looked like she was struggling with whether to laugh or just walk out the door; unable to decide she stayed put and argued. "I would never do that."

"It's not even the alcohol that's poisoning you," Sarah continued tonelessly, "it's your anger and shame. You're better than this, you're shouldering his sins because unlike him, you're a decent person."

"And what are you?" Laney snorted. "Who are you to decide if he lives or dies?"

"Just one of the children he raped," Sarah said. I watched as she picked up the card with their friends picture and stared at it. "I've made my decision, I will kill him."

"You'll never get away with it," Laney said moments later.

"A sacrifice I'm willing to make. We're already trapped in our respective cages by his vile actions. What about you? What's so important in your life that you need to preserve?"

"Not a hell of a lot," she admitted. "It doesn't mean I'm going to help you commit a crime. You've got balls, Sarah, I'll give you that, but I'm not going to prison for your ego."

"This has nothing to do with ego, mine or anyone's. But if I'm caught, which I won't be, a shitload of people would support my actions once they realized what he was." She looked at me pointedly as she said this and I knew it was a reference to things I'd said myself.

"Sarah," I hazarded, "we need to talk about this..."

"Exactly what we're doing," she nodded. "I don't want to do it either, I have to. It's not revenge, it's justice. You don't have to be here, Eden, you can leave whenever you want."

Her voice was goading, daring me to walk away.

"If she leaves, I leave. You're a fucking lunatic," Laney said with what I thought was frail conviction.

"I think I'll stay," I said defiantly.

"Then both of you should think through what I'm saying."

"Look," Laney began with a sigh, "I get you're pissed, but what you're talking about is ludicrous. There are legal options..."

"The law!" Sarah cut her off. "Such a wonderful thing. So concrete, so immutable, so difficult to crush to pieces." Her voice dripped with mockery.

"The lifetime re-offending rate for sex offenders who abuse children is 40%," I said distractedly. Perhaps I was using statistics as a method of remaining calm.

"The rules of civilization have evolved over millennia for a very good reason, Sarah," Laney pointed out stiffly.

"Yes, we've always been slow with the important stuff," she responded. "Human laws cannot encompass universal principles of natural order."

"And that's just the ones we know about..."

"Don't try to turn this into philosophy. What you're talking about is murder, plain and simple."

"Murder is never simple, and philosophy can be applied to everything. But okay, consider this; would you be willing to testify against him at a trial? Would you be willing to relive what he did over and over? To tell everyone you lied, tell everyone exactly what happened to you, what your brother is? Always at the risk he could be acquitted anyway?"

Laney didn't have an answer to that and Sarah turned to me.

"How many times have you encountered a situation where you know exactly what a monster a person is, how badly they're continuing to victimize someone, but you can't do a damn thing because any evidence you have is circumstantial? How many times have you had to let a monster slip through your fingers?"

"It happens every other day."

"She's manipulating you," Laney said. "Don't buy into it."

"Yeah well, she's also right."

"I'm appealing to her conscience, and to yours. What happened, what happens \- it's not right."

"This man - Jared - it's been a long time, maybe he's changed." I attempted to inject some rationality into the discussion and they both looked at me.

"Is that your only objection? That he might have changed?"

There was a hardness and incredulity in Sarah's expression and in Laney's, a hint of hope. Sarah must have seen it too because she got up, brought one of her lap tops over to the coffee table and opened it in front of Laney. Apprehensively I left the arm chair and re-joined them on the sofa.

"I've been watching you, Laney, that's true. But I've been watching him a lot more closely," Sarah said as she tapped at the keyboard. A window of images and video clips popped up suddenly and a wave of nausea swept over me at what I saw. "These are just a few of the images I pulled from his hard drive. This is a list of sites he's been visiting and talking to other sicko's," she pointed and I shut my eyes and tried hard to swallow at the lump in my throat. "There are also transcripts of online chat's he's had with girls claiming to be as young as ten. You should hear some of the things he says to them. He has a whole bunch of different profiles..."

Laney reached out and slammed the lid of the lap top down suddenly, causing me to jump in fright.

"How did you get hold of this?" I asked, a tremor in my voice.

"Not by legal means. Do you really think I would be suggesting such a thing if there was a chance he had changed? Do you think I've made this decision lightly?" Sarah said and carried the computer back to her dining table. "You can pay a black hat for just about anything these days. His security isn't even that great, only a simple bypass was needed to download his zip files. He feels safe. Do you see, Laney? Do you see what he's doing?"

"That kind of thing..." I trailed off, sick to my stomach.

"Laney?" Sarah repeated. "Do you see what he is?"

"I fucking saw it!" Laney screeched.

"Jared isn't one of those who'll stick their dick into whoever they can. He targets children specifically, always under the age of 13. It's a sickness. A harmful and grossly criminal one."

"Fuck."

"His pleasure means others' pain and he's exceeded his quota. People have been killed for a lot lesser injustices."

"And it's always wrong," Laney responded.

"Always wrong for lesser reasons?"

"Always wrong, Sarah," she stressed.

"It's wrong he was never held accountable for what he did to us. It's wrong he's allowed to roam the streets and catfish children online the way he is."

"But you can't kill him for it," Laney said again, more as if she was trying to convince herself. She was white as a sheet.

"Why not? You tell me, Laney. Why can't I? Do you think he's a good man?"

"It's irrelevant what I think."

"It isn't and he's not."

"You understand Sarah's point, right?" I asked carefully. After what I had just seen, I certainly did.

"What are you saying?" she turned on me confrontationally. "Can you honestly say you agree with this bullshit idea? Wake the fuck up, Sarah's using you as a lackey!"

"Hang on a minute, what are you saying? Are you claiming what you just saw didn't make you angry? I get that you don't give a shit about the way he treated you, that's commonplace among victims. But I saw how you reacted to those pictures. It disgusted you and it scared you because you do care if he does it to someone else."

She went silent after that, leaning back in servitude.

"People like him don't change," Sarah went on, "even after years of psychotherapy and medication. I've read case histories of men like him, well, better because some of them want to change and are willing to talk about their sickness for what it is - a sickness. Don't tell me you're not aware of these problems, Eden?"

"Of course I am."

"And how often have you come across a repeat offender willing to submit to honest analysis?"

"Me personally? Never," I admitted. "But it happens."

"Not with Jared. He doesn't believe he's sick and he doesn't want to change. He's become a lot more adept at hiding it and grooming his victims since our day."

"Take it to the police," Laney said coldly, a glaze in her eyes.

"Like I did before?" Sarah shot back. "He got you to lie about it when he was a lot less experienced."

I still felt nauseous and was trying to breathe through it.

"Do you know his girlfriend gave birth to a baby girl in February?" Sarah asked, and another wave hit me.

"I haven't seen him for two years," Laney responded mechanically.

"She knows nothing about him," Sarah continued. "An airhead, that's why he chose her. He can turn on the charm when he wants to, it's what makes him so dangerous. She's fallen for that side of him, she probably wouldn't believe his tendencies if she were shown a video. His daughter though, your niece, so cute. Still only a few months old. I wonder how long it will take him to get his filthy hooks into her. Could be her pictures on those websites in a few years."

I don't know what her words were doing to Laney but I could feel a torrent of sensations making my flesh itch. Despair, disgust, pain. Rage.

I had suspected Sarah's activities ran outside of legal lines, I couldn't pretend that I hadn't. And I knew she had plans. She'd hinted at it in too many ways, given me plenty of clues. I hadn't brought the suspicion to the forefront of my mind because deep down I was afraid she was planning something I couldn't agree with. Anything was possible with her and now her scheme was out in the open a part of me was actually relieved. She wasn't planning a terrorist bombing or murderous rampage. By comparison, the death of a serial child-abuser seemed tame and frankly justified. When I finally looked toward Laney, sweat beaded her forehead and she was shaking badly.

"She has the DT's, it's dangerous, Sarah," I warned.

"I binned her pills," she responded, looking worried, then appeared to reach a decision. "I have vodka and I'll give it to you, Laney, but you have to eat some sandwiches as well."

Laney nodded wretchedly in acceptance and with relief I followed Sarah into the kitchen.

"Could you take this," she said as she handed me a bottle of clear liquid, orange juice and a glass. "Don't let her drink it straight."

I poured the drink for her since I doubted her hands would be steady enough and returned to the kitchen where Sarah was slicing tomatoes, cheese and lettuce.

"She should calm down a bit now," I said.

"When this is over I'm taking her to a detox center."

"You can't force her."

"She'll agree. What I've planned is extreme," she mumbled, slicing. "You think I don't know that? Do you think I'm not scared?" Her speech had taken on its convoluted quality.

"I don't want to hear that you're scared. You can't be scared," I said and she nodded.

"Wanting to be strong isn't enough, you have to be strong." She lifted her head and turned to me. "I'm sorry you got caught up in this."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, I refused to leave, remember?"

"And are you sticking to that?" She was giving me another chance to abandon ship.

"Yes, I am," I told her with certainty and assumed grating the cheese. "I'll have one too."

She stayed close and I could feel her watching me.

"She would never have admitted to it without you there."

"I didn't do anything."

"You're so wrong about that. I'm sorry I snapped at you."

"Don't be," I assured her. "It's a pretty messed up situation, it would be weird if you weren't emotional."

"You know what I intend to do, you know I'm serious."

"Yes. That material he had..." I stopped and turned to her dead on. For the second time that day I managed to hold her gaze without blushing or turning away. Tears ran silently down her cheeks. "Sarah," I said mournfully. I touched her jaw and tried to wipe the tears away. "You are so important to me." The depth of my feelings rose to the surface as I looked at her. "I don't know how it happened but..." Any words I could come up with seemed fatally inadequate; so I did something the usual me would have found frightening. I leaned over and pressed my lips to hers. It should have been innocent, a kiss of comfort and love but her lips were warm and damp and she didn't push me away. The closeness overwhelmed me and I snaked my tongue out and tasted the salty tears on her lips. I had never felt anything so powerful in my life. Breathless, I finally pulled back, only out of fear that if it went on any longer I wouldn't be able to control myself.

"Wow," she said as I avoided her gaze and turned back to the cheese, the spell broken. "That was some kiss."

"God, I'm so sorry," I cringed. "What the hell is wrong with me?"

"It's okay. Your timing sucks but it was nice."

I couldn't respond, I was afraid my voice would quiver, the fear returned in full force. I took some comfort from the fact that she at least had stopped crying. She took the cheese from my hand.

"Go keep Laney company, I can finish these."

Part 3

I did as she asked, too stunned by my own stupidity to argue. I rounded the corner into the lounge and sat back down. Laney stared at me.

"What's wrong with you?" She had recovered substantially now she had her crutch back in front of her. She frowned as she looked at me and I remained silent. "I'm sorry. I don't know what possessed Sarah to get someone like you involved in this."

Surprised at her compassion, I attempted to relax the tension in my face.

"It's all pretty fucked up," I admitted, staring at the carpet and nodding. "Unexpected."

"You're not going to leave, are you?" She still seemed scared of being left alone with Sarah. I couldn't really blame her for this, her standpoint was completely different to mine.

"I'll stay as long as Sarah lets me. I get the feeling she wants me here, though she won't admit it."

"You think she's serious?"

"After what I just saw, yes."

"Does she know what she's doing?"

"I have absolute faith in Sarah," I said without hesitation.

"Why?" She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"I don't know, but I would trust her with my life."

"Okay. She's not doing herself or us any favors by telling us her plans though." She backed up. "I guess I understand why me, but you?"

Still dazed, staring at the floor and not really paying attention to Laney, I said, "I suppose the real question is, why would you protect a pedophile from punishment but not the person who had the courage to dole out that punishment?"

"Jared is my brother."

"No, he isn't," Sarah said, coming back with a plate and putting it on the table. "He relinquished any title or respect when he did what he did. He's not your brother, he's just another predator."

Laney, wide-eyed but looking much perkier, grabbed a sandwich from the top of the pile and bit into it eagerly. I was still reeling from the scene in the kitchen but forced it aside; this was not the time or place for my cursed libido.

"You have other siblings, Laney... Do any of the others know about him?" I asked.

She shook her head as she chewed.

"The only other girl is Emma, she's a year older than Jared. Not his type."

I grimaced at the casual way she said this.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Sarah asked. "You couldn't even talk to your sister?"

"He had control of her," I said. "Emotionally, psychologically. Abusive family members become ubiquitous."

Laney stayed silent for a minute, started a second sandwich.

"I've never talked about it until today," she said finally. "Ever. I refused to admit it even with Leigh all those years ago." At her slip of Leigh's name her eyes began to redden again as she ate. From her outright denial she had made a total 180 - I had to hand it to Sarah for this grisly achievement. "I can't believe she's gone. I should have done something. Why didn't I try to do something?"

"It's not your fault, you couldn't have known."

"But I did know, didn't I? It is my fault."

"It's not," Sarah said. "It's his. He's got you all twisted up in the head even worse than Leigh was." She paused. "How long did you put up with it for?"

Laney took a long time to answer.

"Jared moved out when I was 12 but he came home at the weekends. I was almost 14 by the time it stopped completely. I was so fucking happy it was over I just wanted to forget all about it. I knew it would come back to bite me in the ass. Maybe I knew as soon as I saw you, Sarah."

I couldn't pin down the moment Laney's mind had changed but once the smokescreen was lifted she started releasing a litany of built-up truths. She stopped denying or arguing with anything Sarah said, choosing instead to add to it, illustrate it. Personalize it. She seemed just as shocked by some of the things she said as we did, a common phenomenon in heavily repressed feelings.

"You cut ties with Jared years ago. Didn't the rest of your family wonder why?"

"Yes. My strategy was to distance myself from all of them."

"He's ruined your relationship with your whole family."

"Much more than that probably," I assumed. Intra-familial abuse often resulted in an inability to form any kind of healthy relationship in adulthood.

"I've spent my whole life trying not to think about it," she said, swallowing. "But it's always there. You try to keep it confined, locked away, but it seeps out around the edges, contaminating everything. These last few years... You know what I've been living for?"

"Is that what you're doing? Living?"

"I couldn't stand the thought of Mom and Dad hearing about it if I'd actually killed myself. They cared about us more than anything, it would've destroyed them. They'd have thought it was their fault, and it wasn't at all. They were so old, I thought if I could just... So I hung on and months turn into years and no, it's not living, it's surviving. And when Mom died I was sad but also relieved. Natural causes and she was happy till the day she passed. One down, one to go, and then I'd finally be free."

"Oh my God," I said, overwhelmed. It became transparent why she felt the need to drown her sorrows, coping for so long with that much pain. Alone.

"You know that you can't go on the way you are," Sarah said.

"I used to think about killing him too. I'd look at what I could use to poison him. But they were just fantasies, I would never have done it."

Throughout my career I hadn't encountered quite such a terrifying situation. Perhaps because with Laney it was all said in retrospect, there was nothing I could do about it, I was faced with the woman who had been suffering like this for years not the child who I had options for in order to help. Although she seemed surprised by her own words she remained largely disconnected from them; the only times she allowed sorrow to show through was when referring to others her brother might have hurt, especially their friend Leigh.

It was the most heart-wrenching afternoon of my life, I can say that with certainty. And as I listened to Laney's story I developed a new level of respect for her - Sarah was right, she was not just a naïve victim or lying traitor; she was quite an astounding person. Alongside my understanding of Laney and Sarah's history, a revulsion for the man who had caused it emerged and clutched hatefully at my core.

*

When darkness fell Sarah suggested a drive. She gave Laney a pair of jeans and a warm coat to put on and led us to a Ford Escape parked halfway down the street.

"You don't have to come," she told me.

"I know," I said and bundled into the backseat.

She drove carefully, following every rule. I'd never seen her drive before, didn't think she owned a car. If I'd imagined her driving it wouldn't have been in an SUV. I watched her eyes in the rear view mirror. She had clipped Laney's seatbelt herself and now she sat slumped in the front seat, head resting against the passenger side window. Her consumption of vodka throughout the afternoon had been steady but much slower than the whiskey at the bar; I knew she wasn't drunk but nor were her alcohol levels low enough to be dangerous or uncomfortable. Sarah had graciously put some into a water bottle and topped it up with orange juice for the drive - no doubt so Laney would be more willing to join the excursion. Neither of us had tried to clarify the purpose of the outing - in my mind it didn't matter; I had made the choice to trust Sarah and that wasn't going to change.

As we journeyed further out of the city and into the outlying industrial areas other cars were few and far between. We had started out eastbound but Sarah's route was chaotic and I could no longer be certain which direction we were headed. Lit billboards and neon signs gradually faded out of existence and, outside the glare of the vehicles headlights, an inky blackness governed. The cloud cover was thick and low, and though the rain, which replaced the sunshine earlier that afternoon, had eased, tiny drops still spattered the windshield.

"Where are we going?" My voice sounded small and out of place amongst the silence it had broken. It was as if all the talk throughout the day had reached its conclusion; there was nothing left to say, what came next would invariably involve something other than dialogue.

"Someone's waiting for us," Sarah finally replied and a shiver went down my spine.

Her jaw was set but her eyes appeared tranquil in the glow of an occasional street light. The words made me nervous; given the progression of the day, whoever was waiting and in what capacity was impossible to predict. Certainly, I had a sense we was heading into something perilous and that it was too late to back out. I stayed quiet after that, smooth memories of my casual visits to Sarah running like a stream through my awareness and diluting my anxiety.

Love, hate. Betrayal, loyalty. Fix things, stay focused. Right, wrong.

We'd been driving for almost an hour by the time Sarah pulled the car through an entrance surrounded by sagging wire fence. It was unfamiliar territory for me, on the outskirts of the city; we had passed few residential areas and the surroundings were predominantly dark.

We stopped in a small car park, empty but for shallow potholes filled with murky rainwater. Struck by the headlights before Sarah killed the engine, the buildings appeared derelict; boarded up and long disused.

"What is this place?" I asked anxiously.

"An old steel mill," she said. "Scheduled for demolition within the week. Most of the places around here have been abandoned for years, some decades. The city has plans for a new public housing development on this land." She got out the car and turned on a small, bright torch. I lifted myself out too and automatically reached for my phone before I remembered Sarah had suggested I leave it behind. I knew I should be a lot more uneasy than I actually felt.

Laney stayed where she was while Sarah retrieved her bag from the back and I thought she might have fallen asleep but eventually she pushed she passenger door open and hauled herself out of the seat. She slammed the car closed and looked around with an expression unreadable in the darkness. I did notice she clutched her bottle to her chest as if it could ward off whatever evils came her way.

"Come on," Sarah said and we followed the swaying torch light through the blackness, attempting to sidestep the frequent puddles in the gravelly ground. The walls of buildings rose on either side of us as we wound our way through several outlying twists before we came to a decrepit door. It didn't resist when Sarah pulled the handle and, without pausing, disappeared into the black opening. This was beyond anything I'd ever pictured myself doing, but when Laney followed her without comment, so did I. I told myself I didn't want to lose track of the only light source we had and wondered vaguely why Sarah hadn't thought to bring us torches as well, having known we'd end up in a place like this.

But in the end the light was only an excuse. The truth was I was driven by the same thing that had caused me to go after Sarah that morning, and subsequently stay throughout the long, bizarre day - I was excited. Whatever crusade Sarah was on, I wanted to be a part of it. Whether I would have been as willing to get involved had I not been in love with Sarah is immaterial - I would never have got to know her in the first place if I hadn't felt that instant attraction. Remove one factor like that and the entire sequence of events from that first day the moving van pulled up outside my building would have crumbled. I was also aware that the paradigm had shifted again by that point - I stayed for Laney as much as for Sarah, a startlingly powerful sense of duty and care for her emerged as the afternoon came to a close.

Now, following that tiny circle of light down a pitch black, damp-smelling and claustrophobic corridor, I was not myself, I was someone else. And I felt more alive than I ever had in my life.

We reached another entrance which Sarah stopped in front of, she shone the light on a padlock and pulled a key from her pocket. With a whine the door swung open and then real fear hit me; when the doors cacophonous protest of age subsided I heard scuffling and muffled human sounds from inside whatever lay in front of us. I saw nothing but the small circle of light as Sarah took a few strides and fiddled with something in the darkness.

A click and the surroundings were suddenly lit up in an unforgiving brightness; I scrunched my eyes as they adjusted.

The room was large, high-ceilinged and windowless. The partially crumbling cement walls were lined with exposed wires and pipes and on the floor a kind of plastic sheeting was held down by bits of loose concrete and steel piping. Against the wall to the far right, a man sat, arms tied securely behind him, legs and feet stretched in front of him and bound together. He was gagged, masking tape crossing the lower half of his face and above it his eyes squinted and shied away from the brightness of the lamp focused directly on him.

I stood staring, too stunned to react and assumed Laney was the same. While I stared, his sounds continued, he struggled feebly against his restraints and his eyes began to bulge toward us in panic as they became accustomed to the light. Repressing an instinct to hide my face, I realized he probably couldn't see us properly while we remained by the door, further away from the glare of the lamplight.

Sarah watched us. Breaking the spell, Laney stepped closer and squinted at him.

"Fuck," she hissed. She was in the light now and the man's eyes widened even more as he looked at her, his sounds amplified. He recognized her; that much was obvious.

"What the hell have you done?!" Laney screeched and turned on Sarah.

"Did you think I wasn't serious when I told you what I would do?" she asked calmly. "Did you think I was dreaming? Being flaky? I've been planning this for a long time. Too long."

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!" Laney continued.

I simply stood, agape.

"You saw what was on his computer. You know what he did to all three of us. Need I justify his death any more?" She spoke quietly so that the man, who continued in his muted attempts to communicate probably couldn't hear her.

"Why did you bring me here?" Laney asked, her voice panicked. "Why did you have to involve me?!"

"Because I can't do it on my own," Sarah said and gripped her by the shoulders. "I promise you I didn't bring you here to hurt you. We went over a lot of history today, you've said things. You know I tried to do the right thing all those years ago." Laney's gaze was focused on the bound man. "Laney?" She looked back at Sarah.

"Yes," she said miserably.

"You didn't trust me then. Trust me now and help me."

"Look at this shit! You obviously don't need me!" She was on the verge of hysteria.

"That is where you're wrong. If there's anyone in this world entitled to dish out what he has coming, it's you."

Their voices faded into the background as they bickered together and I stepped closer to the man, away from the door, into the light. His hair was dark, the same shade as Laney's, his eyes a similar almond shape, but blue, while Laney's were brown. I knew it was her brother before I looked at him properly, but it was still a shock to be confronted with the reality, to put a face to what I had heard. The embodiment of all that obscenity. He was a stranger to me, and yet I knew him.

What Sarah had been through to get him here I had no idea. But he was here.

"I know why you lied," I heard Sarah saying, as if from a great distance. "You weren't trying to hurt me, just to protect the people you loved. Like you stayed alive to keep your parents from suffering, you also kept your own to yourself. If what Jared was had come out your whole family would have fallen apart. It's not the kind of responsibility you should ever have had to carry. Him? He doesn't deserve your loyalty. He used you up and sucked you dry and he's not even sorry for it. You say it stopped when you were 13 but it's not true. It's still happening, isn't it? Behind your eyes, in your dreams, a part of you will never be free of it. We can make that part smaller, here. Now."

I could hear Laney weeping but I didn't take my eyes off the man in front of me; I was genuinely afraid the restraints would yield to his struggle and he would break free.

"This is our chance," Sarah continued. "If we get rid of him now, none of the others have to find out what he did. People will wonder what happened to him, probably even mourn his loss. And your niece and who knows how many others won't have to suffer your fate. He's a bad egg, Laney."

Though his eyes darted toward Sarah as she spoke, I doubted he could hear the bulk of what she was saying and he stared mostly at me - pleading with his eyes and trying to formulate real sounds beneath the masking tape. Ignoring the others, he focused on me because he thought I wasn't involved, that I didn't understand their motives, their rage.

Fool. It only made me angrier; the images on Sarah's computer flashing through my memory. A great, sickly swell of emotion spread from my chest out to my muscles, limbs, and as if it wasn't even mine, my right hand lashed out and caught him square on his cheek bone. The only punch I'd ever thrown in my life and though there was little muscle-power behind it, it sent a message, to him and to me. Later, the pain shooting up my wrist would be intense but for now I felt quite a deep sense of satisfaction at the impact and the brief shock in his eyes which marked the switch from plea to fury.

Laney and Sarah stopped their frantic exchange and were looking at me.

"Even she understands what scum he is," Sarah went on, turning back to Laney. "I've been meticulous, he will just disappear. Only the three of us will know what happened. You're here because I trust you but it has to go both ways."

At her words the man focused on Sarah; his eyes spoke volumes. He pushed his back hard against the wall, straining against his bindings. His cheeks puffed out above the tape and turned a deep shade of crimson.

"You probably think we can resolve this through discussion and reason," Sarah went on. "I tell you there's no way. See for yourself." She stepped over to him and ripped the masking tape from his mouth.

"No!" I yelled in panic. "...Why?!"

"Let him talk. Laney needs to hear how penitent he is," she said sotto voce then raised her volume. "Yelling won't do you any good either."

He spat a ball of wet material from his mouth, spluttered for a moment, saliva falling from his reddened lips and Laney did a double-take, standing back, eyes wide with fear.

"You..." he began coarsely. "You've had your fun. Let me loose and I won't press charges." He stopped struggling and his voice, between coughs, was more controlled than I would have expected. "No one has to know."

"I've heard that line before," Sarah almost laughed and the man scowled and began squirming his shoulders again.

"Jared..." Laney said desolately, as if by saying his name she could make it all go away.

"I don't know how you got yourself mixed up in whatever this is, but you know better," he said, sweat beading his forehead. "Where's your phone? Call the police, fucking do something, Laney..."

"You're my brother," she said twitchily, she seemed to be having trouble verbalizing whatever was happening in her head. But as I glanced at her she collected herself and stepped closer to him. "How could you do it?" she asked, her tone calm but perfunctory.

"Do what?" he snarled and I had a strong urge to hit him again.

"You hurt Sarah."

At that he frowned in confusion and went silent for a moment, he craned his neck forward and squinted at Sarah. It hit me then that he hadn't realized who Sarah was.

"Holy shit," he said slowly. "Little Sarah. You're doing all this? What the hell are you doing with this weirdo, Laney?"

"You hurt her," Laney repeated.

"The fuck I did. We both know why she said those things, she was jealous of how close we were. I see things haven't changed, still a fucking psycho, Sarah." He spat towards her but Sarah didn't react.

"What about Leigh?" Laney said quietly.

"Who?" he asked stupidly. "Cut me free, Lanes. Then we'll talk."

"Leigh," she repeated, an expression of horror splitting her features. "Oh my God, you don't even remember... She was nothing to you."

"No," he said hastily. "Leigh-Leigh, course I remember. But... Is she here? We can all talk together, properly. Just please, untie me, we can't do it like this."

"No," Laney said softly. "How many others have there been?"

"Others? I don't know what you're talking about!"

"How many others have you hurt?" She became mechanical again.

"I never hurt anyone! Jesus Christ, what bullshit has Sarah been feeding you?!" His pitch rose quickly into a shout. "You bitches are in deeper every second you keep me here." He went still and tried to slow his breathing and relax his face as he stared back and forth between Sarah and me accusingly. "Whatever they're doing, you don't have to be a part of it. You don't even know, do you? I have a kid now, a fucking baby, Lanes! Think very carefully what you do next because they won't get away with it. No matter what, you're going to prison, Sarah."

"This is what I see," Sarah said evenly, and again, she was directing it at Laney not Jared. "That only someone deeply sick would access that stuff he had. Do you think the children in those pictures were there by choice?"

"What is she talking about?" Jared hissed but he looked wary.

"If he's not already, it's only a matter of time before he starts doing the same thing to someone else that he did to us. To you, Laney. Hell, he's supporting the community that provides that kind of pornography he's already victimizing children. You think I'm going to stand by and watch? Shaking my head and grumbling? I'll end up like you, on the fast track to an early death with absolutely no worth."

"She's poisoning your fucking mind, Lanes. She's a freak. She's always had a problem with men."

"Did you hear that? He still thinks he's a man," Sarah whispered.

"You're not well," Laney said in a small voice. "You're hurting people."

It was hard to even hear her between Jared's feverish pitch and Sarah's grave whispers and I didn't know who the words were aimed at. I wanted to put the tape back over Jared's mouth but was scared to get too close to him. Stuck between a rock and a hard place I stood absorbing the conflicting voices around me.

"I didn't hurt anyone, dammit!" he yelled.

"You hurt me," Laney whispered so softly I was sure I was the only one who heard it.

"Jared," Sarah said, finally directing her words at him, "you're a rapist. You spend your life hiding what you are, you have to - no one would accept it. You know you're sick."

"Rape?! This is the biggest load of..."

"You abused your own sister for years."

"That's a libel! I only ever loved you, Laney, you know that!"

The words repulsed me; I leaned close, my temper getting the better of my fear. He actually flinched away; he was afraid of me. It made me pause and study him in disgust.

"You're not doing yourself any favors," I said quietly.

"I'm not allowed to defend myself against this slander?"

"Even if, by some long, drawn out stretch of the imagination, he was tried, convicted and put away, he would still have those thoughts in his head. How much do you like the idea that he could sit in a prison cell getting off on the image of raping you? Because you can be damn sure he doesn't need to drink a 40 ounce of top-shelf every day to wipe his mind clean. He likes remembering."

At this Jared suddenly went quite still and his expression altered. He stared at Sarah, eyes narrowed.

"You're mad," he said slowly, as if it was only just occurring to him. "What Laney and I had was beautiful." He looked at Laney with a crazed affection in his eyes. "Lanes..." He smiled. Smiled!

Maybe a small part of him remained in a constant state of paranoia that his activities would catch up to him eventually, that one day he would have to pay for it. He had probably not considered it would happen this way. Sarah kept talking.

"All those children in the pictures, Laney, all that suffering. I almost expected to see yours there. Leigh's. Mine. But I guess he got rid of all those during the investigation. He had to, if the police had found them, they would have known straight away what he was."

When I tore my gaze from Jared and looked toward them, tears were streaming down Laney's cheeks and her chest was heaving. Jared had shut himself off from Sarah, he continued looking at Laney with calm regard.

"I missed you," he said. "We need to talk, I have so much to tell you. But we can't do it here. Come on, Lanes, stop this, cut me loose and we'll deal with Sarah together. Either way, she's not going to get away with it, don't let her drag you down with her. I'll look after you, you'll always be my little sister."

Laney's tear-stained expression changed abruptly, the tightness in her face fell away and her crinkled eyes relaxed.

"What do you see looking at me like that?" she asked strangely. "Do you see the little girl I was? You used to look at me that way all the time. I always wondered why no one else noticed. They couldn't see it, they didn't know what you were thinking."

"We're family, we love each other."

"You are my brother. My responsibility," she said carefully and I watched as she bent down to pick up one of the heavy pieces of pipe holding the plastic sheeting down.

"Laney..." I began uncertainly but Sarah had fallen silent.

"Yes," Jared agreed, watching her. "Someone like Sarah couldn't understand the connection we had; that I would never hurt you."

His voice had an edge of anticipation to it, he still expected Laney to rebel against Sarah; he hadn't heard what we had that afternoon.

"Keep talking," Laney said softly.

"We can get back the closeness we had. I'll introduce you to Kelly and Izzie. She's so cute, Lanes, you wouldn't believe. The two of us can sort this out. They can go to hell for all I care, if you can just..."

Mid-sentence Laney swung the pipe at him and his words were replaced with a sound I won't forget. With a sickening crack the pipe connected with his head. There was a tiny pause after the first blow before she continued, she swung again and again. The sounds she produced as she made her attack were incoherent, haunting. It should have been horrifying, and in some ways, it was.

Eventually, in a kind of stupor, I started toward her. I don't know what I intended to do to stop her but it didn't matter anyway - I felt an arm spread in front of my chest and Sarah appeared beside me, holding me back. When I looked at her she only watched Laney releasing her rage.

"She's finally meeting herself," she said. "You don't know, Eden."

But I did know. This was the only time it would ever see the light of day, but the part of me that knew this was vindicated did and always will exist.

Laney's fire finally ran out of fuel and she flung the pipe at the slumped, silent figure one final time. She backed away from him and fell to her knees on the ground, sobbing. My instinct took over and I crouched next to her and put my arms around her heaving shoulders, disregarding the blood spatters layered on her skin and clothing.

Sarah stood over Jared and squinted closely at him. Dropped to his chest, his head was a mess and he wasn't moving but as I watched a bloody bubble formed at his mouth, glittering in the harsh light. He was still breathing. Sarah saw it too. I felt no inclination to stop her as she bent down to her rucksack and pulled a gun with a silencer attached from it. She pointed and pulled the trigger swiftly at his unresponsive head. No hesitation, no mercy.

Laney didn't look up at the sound but buried her face in my shoulder and tightened an arm around my back.

Sarah put her gun away, came and sat down on the ground next to us, folded her legs, waiting in silence while Laney continued weeping into my shoulder. During those moments she looked serene, like she'd just completed a yoga class and was rounding it off with meditation. Watching her brought a sense of peace which was completely out of place under the circumstances.

Laney's tears finally subsided, she wiped her eyes and sat back, holding her ankles. Sarah handed her a tiny packet of tissues. She didn't look in Jared's direction but kept her eyes on me, Sarah and her tissues.

"He wouldn't admit it," she choked out as if trying to excuse her behavior. "How could he not know how much I hated him?"

"It's finished now," Sarah said. "We can't change the past but the damage he's done stops here. He can't hurt his daughter."

Laney stared at her, eyes wide, bloodshot but her voice regained some composure.

"We have a dead man on our hands. It's too early for a victory cigar," she said.

"Yes," Sarah agreed emphatically. "But he's a lot less of a problem like that than he was before. Are you both okay to help me with these last things? Because if we do it how I planned no one will find out. We'll be safe, all of us. The nearest CCTV camera is two blocks away and no one's going to check them because his body will never be found. That's the important part."

"Jesus," Laney said, shaking her head, as if she couldn't believe how easy Sarah made it all sound, how well she had thought this through.

"What do we do with him?" I asked.

"We should be able to get him to the car without too much trouble. Take all the objects off the plastic and we'll roll him into it and drag him."

She was right, it wasn't difficult with all three of us; we tied the plastic securely around him, dragged him down the dark corridor and with slightly more effort hefted him into the cargo bay of the SUV. Sarah went back to collect the lamp, checking the route for blood stains. We wiped the excess blood off ourselves with damp towels. Laney was the worst; Sarah made her change her clothes right there in the car park. That she had been thorough enough to bring a change of clothes did not surprise me.

"It will do for now," she said, giving Laney the once over with her torch. "First thing to do when we get back is shower properly."

We drove a further hour out of town where a solemn looking, bearded man let us into a lumber yard silently. Without a word he helped us put the plastic wrapped body into a large furnace then left us to watch the flames consume it with a ferocity I hadn't imagined. I don't remember anyone speaking during this interval, though words must have been said.

"What now?" I asked when we were on the road back to the city.

"Home. I could use a drink," Sarah said.

I don't know about the others, neither of their perspectives were the same as mine, but I felt quite numb. Back at number 5, Sarah took our clothes and put them in a garbage bag; I didn't ask what she would do with them. No one said much until we were all showered and changed, seated around the lounge, hair still damp.

Sarah ignored the vodka sitting on her coffee table and brought a bottle of Four Roses single barrel bourbon out of her bedroom. She poured us one and downed hers immediately. I understood her position and was relieved to see she wasn't immune to the same racing heart I had.

"We can all get drunk tonight," she began. "But it's the last night, Laney. Tomorrow morning I'm taking you to Albany Detox. Whether you go the distance is up to you, but you need to give yourself a chance to dry out."

Laney took a deep drink from her glass.

"I better make the most of tonight then," she said, expressionless.

"Will you be willing to try it, Laney?" I asked more cautiously.

"I'll do it," she said, quickly and with surprising certainty.

"I've heard about this place, it's good. It doesn't employ the 12 step programme."

"I figured you wouldn't like that," Sarah agreed. "Too much of a God-factor, it wouldn't work for you."

"Thank you, Sarah."

"Don't thank me. The next few weeks are going to be a nightmare. But I know you can do it."

"You'll be in the best place possible anyway," I offered. "They can safeguard against seizures with medication."

"Just... Thank you for caring. Both of you."

"You did something brave tonight, and worthwhile - don't forget that."

"Can we order some food?"

"Good idea," Sarah nodded and went to get one of her lap tops. "What do you feel like?"

Once we had a few drinks in us the tension eased and the questions began to flow.

"The furnace," I said. "Will it destroy him completely?"

"It won't," Laney said with certainty. "Even crematoriums don't destroy remains entirely. I take it your friend there's going to do something with them?"

"Yes. There's an old cemetery he'll bury the bones in."

"I'm fucking uncomfortable with that, Sarah, you never said someone else was going to be involved. Someone who's seen our faces."

"Did you pay him?" I asked.

"He doesn't like child molesters, it's a much more powerful incentive than money. He's beyond reproach. I'm more worried about the two of you. Our safety is hinged on each of ours discretion, I shouldn't have to remind you that," she told us. "You'll be asked questions, Laney."

"I have no difficulty lying," she replied.

"No shit," Sarah said.

"My lips are sealed and my reputation is squeaky clean, no one would believe it of me."

"There's no statute of limitations on murder," Laney volunteered. "This will follow us around forever."

"Without a body, he's only a missing person," Sarah said. "Seven years missing and he's declared death in absentia. Yes?"

"Yes."

"Even if the remains are discovered, there's no way to trace them back to you. Of all of us, I'm the only one who might be considered a suspect, I had a buried bone." She paused with a snigger. "Bad pun. Anyway, that's not for either of you to worry about, I can handle myself."

"You're seriously warped, Sarah," Laney said almost respectfully.

"Will the police look at his hard drive?" it occurred to me to ask.

"Good question..."

I couldn't repeat word for word what was said during that long night. There were tears but Laney's tears were coming from a different place. She cried for herself, not someone else.

*

I was probably drunker than I'd ever been in my life when Sarah eventually left in a cab with Laney. It was dawn. I did manage to take Gene for her morning walk before I crawled into bed and fell into a deep sleep. Rising only long enough to get water, use the bathroom, take Gene out and feed her I slept right through till my Monday morning alarm went off and I automatically faced my work day.

Ultimately I wasn't thinking about that fact I was now an accomplice in a first degree murder. I was thinking of Laney, hoping she would make a real go of her sobriety and at the same time keep her mouth shut. This caused some concern, she would be in a very vulnerable state for a while, who knew what secrets she might spill. I wished there was something else I could do, but from here it would be Laney's strength and resolve which would bring her through. Withdrawal from anything was definitively a path travelled alone. I would talk to Sarah about it once everything had settled down, maybe see about visiting her if she managed to get through the first week successfully.

For the next two nights Sarah didn't answer her door and I heard nothing from upstairs. In a daze I spent the time attempting to return to some kind of normalcy. I wasn't worried, I expected Sarah to show up again. She probably had more things to 'take care of' and I only welcomed what I thought would be a mollifying stopgap to the weekends excess. But when I got home from work on Wednesday night a shock waited for me. A note was slipped into my mailbox.

I'm not the person you think I am.

Don't worry about anything and be good Eden.

And with that, Sarah was gone. I went up to number 5 as soon as I read the note but of course, there was no answer. I even called the landlord, but he wouldn't tell me anything, just that she'd left. A terrible sinking feeling flooded my senses; the note was so brief, so superficial and, as usual, hopelessly cryptic. Don't worry? My heart ached, but I was also angry, confused and scared. My fear of what we had done, of casting any suspicion on myself, prevented me from trying to find Sarah and from contacting Laney.

Had I really been so blinded by Sarah's presence I thought she could protect me? Yes, I had. Now that her warm cocoon of assurance wasn't wrapped around me, my eyes were open and I was vulnerable. For days on end I jumped whenever my phone beeped or my door buzzed. I felt fragmented first, then hollow.

I did the only thing I could, I launched myself into my job with a new sense of worth and purpose. Perhaps I would be expected to suffer nightmares, panic attacks, after such an experience but I did not. Maybe I should have been ruminating unceasingly on the man who had lost his life in front of my eyes but I gave him little thought. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. I slept, breathed and ate work, too busy to realize I had slipped into a mind-numbing depression. I kept up the necessary social engagements with friends and family but it was obvious my heart wasn't in it - to them and me. My mother harangued me about finding a new boyfriend and I continued to keep my mouth shut about why I couldn't. People would worry if I went on this way for much longer. When I stopped to think, I was worried myself. During those long, sad weeks it was my dog who provided me with the little comfort I got.

I sat at my lap top writing a report on a cold February evening. The days were short now and I was tiring easily with nothing to distract me. My eyes strayed from the screen and my thoughts to Sarah, as they often did. I was still confused but my fear over being caught had diminished. When I thought back to the events that had transpired I couldn't be angry at Sarah for my involvement in it; that had been all me. She had given me opportunities abound to leave but I refused. I did feel I had a right to be angry about her abrupt departure though; after everything I should have at least got a proper goodbye.

It was strange that anger dictated so much of the relationship I had with her. I thought it had been love, but maybe it was just frustration at my inability to be honest that had led me to entertain the possibility I would change my life for her. Looking back, everything seemed to contain anger as the primary ingredient. Love was an illusion, a fantasy. Why had she talked about it so much? Nothing was clear anymore.

I had anger long before Sarah, of course. Built up and simultaneously suppressed over years of witnessing the result of violence and abuse within families. As that Saturday weeks before had worn on and I became acquainted with Sarah and Laney's history, that anger had bubbled to the surface. Their story was repeated over and over in my work. Caught on the legal side of bureaucratic red tape, I'd found myself forced into inactivity too many times.

Sarah tapped into Laney's anger, but she also tapped into mine. The truth was Sarah had fulfilled a purpose in my own life which outweighed whatever purpose I had served in hers. After all, my role had been pedestrian at best and here I was on the other side of a murder, with a much greater respect for the more mundane influence I had with my job. I was unwilling to return to a dishonest lifestyle on top of this, but I was flailing - I had no real sense where to go from here.

These were the feelings pervading my lost mind when a small knock sounded on my door that wintry night and I looked up from the table with a start. Certain it would be a concerned friend, I went to the door preparing excuses to turn them away, but when I saw the woman standing outside I didn't recognize her. I stood staring for several seconds, desperately trying to discern if it was someone I had met through work or a friend of a friend.

"One of your neighbors let me in the building," she said nervously.

It dawned on me slowly when I heard her voice; the day from months before flooding back full force. My jaw slackened; she was a different person from the one I'd met that morning in the bar. Her hair washed and styled, her make-up perfect, wearing a crepe skirt suit. She was thinner than I remembered, her face had lost that slightly bloated look typical of heavy drinkers; at the time I hadn't even realized she'd had it. Though wide with anxiety, her brown eyes were clear and bright. She was quite beautiful and clearly maintaining her sobriety. It filled my heart with the nicest feeling I'd had in weeks and before I could stop myself I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her. For the first time since Sarah left I didn't feel like the only person in the world. Chuckling tensely, she squeezed me back.

"Sorry," I said and pulled away, embarrassed by the gesture. "Do you want to come in?"

"Yes. Please."

"Sarah's gone," I said as she followed me inside. "If you're looking for her."

"I'm not. I wanted to talk to you."

"She disappeared," I repeated. Maybe I needed to hear it myself; this was the first and only time I'd had the chance to talk about her. "Vanished, straight after ...what happened." Laney nodded. "You don't seem surprised."

"What surprises me is that she turned up in the first place," she said.

I frowned; perhaps Laney still harbored resentment for Sarah.

"You haven't seen her, have you?" I asked a little too hopefully.

"No. She visited me once in the clinic, just a few days after she dropped me off. She didn't say much, but I got the feeling I wouldn't see her again." She smiled sheepishly. "I always felt like she was watching though, always felt guilty if I even thought about alcohol."

I snorted lightly; it was good to know I wasn't the only one she'd had such an impact on. I stared at her; after my immediate reaction, it occurred to me I didn't really know how to treat Laney after everything that had happened. But the decision was made for me; Gene plodded her way into the kitchen and sidled up to her.

"Oh wow," she exclaimed and crouched down to rub her back without restraint. "A ridgeback."

"Gene meet Laney," I said happily. "You have to be a bit careful with her, she doesn't see well."

"She's beautiful. A wise old thing, aren't you?"

Gene snuffled at her face and she didn't turn away from it. Dogs have amazing instincts; Gene's judgment was very important to me and my doubts about Laney were put to rest.

"She likes you. Do you want tea?"

"Thanks," she smiled. "I got out of the clinic last month. I wanted to come earlier but was afraid. I had no idea how you'd feel about a visit from me."

"The last few weeks have been..." I trailed off. "It's good to see you."

"You too. You look tired though. Is it suitable to ask if you're okay?"

"I don't suppose much research has been done on what's expected in situations like this," I said with a grudging chuckle. "It's been hard. Much more so for you, I assume, but you look wonderful, I barely recognized you."

"I'm doing okay," she nodded. "I just started a new job. A small, private firm, the workload won't put as much pressure on me but I'll be able to pay off my debts."

"That's awesome." I hesitated cagily. "What about your health?"

"You mean, did I do myself any permanent damage?"

"Yes..."

"Strangely, no. Though I deserve it."

"Don't say that."

"Ah," she gestured weakly from her crouched position and made a face at Gene, "don't listen to me. If I really felt that way I'd still be drinking. No, I've been given another chance and I'm not going to waste it. Sarah did what she did for a reason."

"True." I brought the tea to the table. "Come sit down."

I watched as Gene plonked herself against her ankles and Laney spread her hands on the table.

"I've been thinking a lot," she said.

"You and me both."

"God, Eden," she breathed, staring at her hands. "I'm so sorry to come here and disrupt your night, your life more than I already have. But I really need to talk about it and you're the only one." She didn't need to specify what it was.

"There's nothing to apologize for," I assured her. "I'm glad you're here, I need to talk about it too. I feel like I've been living in a fucking vacuum the last couple of months, it was like I could finally breathe again when I realized who you were."

Her nervous expression altered and she nodded in relief at my admission.

"Do you have any news at all?" I asked, finally able to express my anxiety. "I keep checking the papers expecting to see something but there's nothing. I've been tempted to do an online search but paranoia stopped me."

"Shit, I'm so sorry. If I'd known... But you don't need to worry." She paused as if she wasn't quite sure where to start. "Two uniforms came by the clinic and asked me questions."

"They did? Police?" Full alert mode activated. "What did you say?"

"They were just routine, the same questions they ask all family members. They already knew Jared and I were estranged and I told them I had my own problems to worry about. They couldn't get out of there fast enough when one of the addicts started trying to bash the door down."

"No suspicion at all then?" I pressed.

"No. The case will go cold, they don't have the resources to spend on missing persons."

"I guess that's good news." I leaned back, a pleasant wave sweeping over me.

"Sarah took care of everything," she said. "What did she say before she left?"

"Nothing," I said and the pleasantness disappeared fast. I stared down at my cup. "Absolutely nothing," I repeated and my voice broke. Hopelessness overtook me and I let my heavy head fall into my hands. The tears that I'd held in for weeks finally began to flow.

"It's okay, let it out," Laney said.

"I'm sorry," I croaked when I'd finally managed to compose myself enough to become intelligible.

"Don't be. You've got more right to be upset than anyone." She shook her head as I rose my tear stained face to her. "Sarah should never have dragged you into something so awful."

"The fucked up thing is it's not even that I'm upset about. I'm just so alone now she's gone," I said pitifully. "I've never felt more alone in my life. And yes, I'm angry that she could change everything and then just leave."

"I know what you mean. It feels sordid and unchartered."

"Goddammit!" I said with unleashed frustration.

"Talk to me," Laney pressed gently.

I rose abruptly and went to the kitchen drawer to fetch the note.

"She didn't even say goodbye," I said and threw the paper on the table between us contemptuously. "I just got home from work one day and that was in my mailbox."

Laney picked it up and slid her eyes over it. A curious expression crossed her face as I watched, but I couldn't read it.

"I'm sorry. That was heartless of her."

"I think so too," I said decidedly. "But I don't know what it means. Do you?"

"I know about as much as you," she said and folded the note back on the table thoughtfully. "I might have some theories."

"Okay. Go ahead, out with them."

"I..." she grimaced. "You're not going to like it and they're just thoughts, I don't know anything."

"Laney!" I exclaimed. "Indulge me. We might as well talk it through while we have the chance."

She stared at me for a few moments in silence.

"Please?"

"My head was too fuzzy to think of it at the time but over the past few weeks things have been coming back to me. I've never had so much time to figure things out in a clear headed state."

"And? What did you think?"

"What were you doing with Sarah in The Red Hen that day?"

"The..." For a second I was confused then I remembered. "Right, the bar. I was going into Bookland and I saw her. She'd been gone for three days so I followed her. At the time I was worried and wanted to make sure she was okay." A little embarrassed by the direction of questioning, I didn't know how much to say. "It was pure coincidence really but she didn't seem to mind when I approached her. She was watching you and I was curious as to what she was up to."

Laney shook her head with a frown.

"Coincidence. I don't know about that," she said.

"It was weird," I nodded. "It almost seemed like she'd been expecting me."

"She probably was."

"Don't hold back, what are you thinking?"

"What happened, it might have been more complicated than we knew."

I doubted that but raised my brows in question and she responded by narrowing her eyes at me, like she was judging whether she should say anything or not. After another few moments of silence she spoke.

"Sarah and I hadn't had anything to do with each other since her complaints. She switched schools then but I did catch wind she'd gone AWOL around the time I graduated High School. This little memory didn't come back to me until after I sobered up and I looked into it. A combination of worry and needing something to occupy my time. I made some calls, checked it out - her parents haven't seen her to this day."

"So she ran away from her horrible family, it happens all the time. She did say they never believed her."

"Not just her family, her friends; ones that were loyal. She disappeared off the face of the earth. Maybe she just changed her name, her life but..." Laney looked awkward. "I don't think the Sarah you knew was the Sarah Nowak from my childhood," she admitted finally.

"Nowak?" I asked, startled by this information. "That was her surname? We could find her, track her down."

"You won't find her," she shook her head and stared at me. "Did you hear what I said?"

"Not Sarah Nowak," I said slowly. "No, I don't understand. Of course it was Sarah."

"It's just a sense I had. I do remember what went on that day - she brought up things even Sarah shouldn't have known. There was something really strange about her, even in my diminished capacity I could tell that."

"If she wasn't Sarah then who was she?"

"Maybe it was Sarah," she shrugged. "But when you showed me that note 'I'm not who you think I am' \- it's just weird."

"Okay." I stared numbly at my fingernails. After everything my little mind couldn't take another blow like this. I tried to clarify the submission rationally. "You're saying you don't think she was your childhood friend?"

"The possibility has crossed my mind, yes."

"Then how did she know all that stuff about you? Please don't tell me that was a lie too?"

"No," Laney shook her head. "That was all true, every word she spoke was true. Accurate to the point of being unnatural, that's my point. Even Sarah shouldn't have known such details." Her expression reflected my own confusion as she frowned and went on. "Things were said, you heard her, she made certain assumptions about what Jared did with Leigh and I and she was letter perfect. Even a person's own memories can become skewed after so long but to know all that other stuff? It doesn't make sense."

"Sarah's smart," I said and Laney snorted.

"The Sarah I knew wasn't some kind of deviant mastermind, she was just an ordinary girl."

"People change."

"Not that much."

"She managed to get all that material off your brother's computer... Maybe she found out other things as well."

"The deepest, darkest memories of two girls who barely remembered themselves? One of whom was dead? There is no way Leigh would have kept some kind of record of Jared's abuse and I sure as hell never let it leave my mind. And that's not to mention the fact that she must have had the whole thing ready and planned out before she approached me in the bar that day. How did that happen? How could she have known it would fall into place the way it did?"

"She would have gone ahead with or without our help."

"But she didn't need to, did she? She even had a place booked and paid for at Albany for Sunday in advance. Was she that confident in herself? Was she that good a manipulator?"

"I don't know," I threw my hands up in frustration and leaned back.

"She kept talking about fate... I'm telling you, Eden, something really weird was going on that day. Something I don't think either of us are ever going to be able understand. It's changed the way I look at things," she said.

"You're implying ...what? Something supernatural?" I stared at my empty cup. "It seems extreme."

"Murder was extreme, this is off the hook. But you asked for my thoughts and that's them - she was strange."

"Nothing about Sarah was normal," I agreed. "I saw her move in but never saw her moving out." I paused and let the implications of what Laney was suggesting really sink in. "I used to visit her at night and we'd have these fucked up conversations. There were times when I thought she wasn't human or wasn't real. We talked and she knew things without asking. She knew me. And her eyes..."

"Like she was looking right into your soul," Laney finished for me. "Sarah's eyes weren't like that. There was nothing to physically debate her being Sarah Nowak, her features were similar. Of course, that's coming from someone who hadn't seen her properly since we were children. But those eyes, they weren't right."

I felt more tears sliding from the corners of mine, but silently this time as Sarah's face flashed through my mind.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up," she said quietly. "The last thing I wanted was to upset you and I'm only speculating."

"It's okay," I sniffed. "Maybe it doesn't matter who she was, only what she did."

"Maybe." She paused awkwardly. "What about what I did? Do you think it was wrong?"

"You were a little girl yourself, Sarah knew it wasn't your fault. You were traumatized and in no position to judge which choice was the right one. That much was made crystal clear to me that day."

"I'm not talking about that," she said. She lifted her cup, felt the cold rim against her mouth and put it back down. "I'm talking about Jared. I killed him," she said and her eyes showed real shock and fear at her own words.

"No, you didn't. Sarah did," I told her.

"Do you really think he would have survived those injuries? I've been over and over it in my head and it was as if she was asking for my sanction. I sentenced him, Sarah only hammered the final nail in his coffin."

"I don't think it was wrong, Laney. And I don't regret being there, I don't regret any of it. I've been through it in my mind as well and he was a monster, he's not worth torturing yourself over. You've done that long enough."

Laney nodded slowly.

"I can't quite wrap my head around it," she said, brow knitted. "She didn't need to involve me, she demonstrated she was perfectly capable of doing it on her own."

"Physically maybe, but," I began and Laney was staring at me intently, as if she could see things coming together in my mind, "she needed the consent of someone he'd actually hurt, because if she wasn't Sarah, then he had never hurt her..." Laney's suggestion solidified slowly; more disquieting than anything before it.

"It's a mind-fuck, right?" she said. "You get what I'm saying. It's hard to believe that anyone, Sarah or not, would give enough of a shit to do something like that. In my mind, I was already dead and forgotten before she came along. You were a part of it."

"Why was I involved?" I queried, thinking mind-fuck was definitely an appropriate label.

"An outside party? Someone with an incontestable sense of integrity? We could spend the rest of our lives thinking about it and still not be able to break it down in rational terms."

I shook my head slowly and stared at Gene, wide-eyed.

"I wanted to thank you," she said poignantly. "For what you did that night. You were there. When I was on the ground crying, you held me, you weren't afraid. You don't understand what that meant at the time and still means. It was a turning point and you didn't shy away despite all the terrible things you'd heard and what you saw me do."

"I don't believe his sentence was morally debatable," I said softly. "At the time, I questioned its practicality, but that doesn't seem to have caused a problem. I'll tell you something else too - I'll never be able to devalue the little things my job involves again."

"Oh no." She was alarmed by this revelation. "Were you doing that before?"

"Well, yes, sometimes," I admitted and she shook her head.

"You must never think that."

"Laney," I began awkwardly. "Some of the things you said that day, all that pain. Are you going to be okay now? It's one thing to get sober physically but the emotional scars you have..."

"I know. All I can do is try and things feel quite different now."

"I will be here for you. Would it be weird for us to be friends?" I asked and she shut her eyes for a moment, smiled and took a deep breath.

"Yes. But I don't have quite as much respect for mediocrity anymore. There are things you understand which no one else ever will. If we could be friends I would love it." She wiped a stray tear from her cheek and dug into her bag. "Look at this," she said, bringing her phone out, pulling up a photo and holding it out to me. A picture of a chubby, blue-eyed baby poking its tongue out and smiling. "Isabelle, my niece. I went to see them, said I had heard about Jared's disappearance."

"She's adorable," I smiled wide.

"She really is. You should hear her laugh - I've never been a big fan of babies but she has the cutest laugh in the world. Her mother, Kelly, told me Jared spoke about me sometimes but nothing specific. She was happy to see me, couldn't understand why we hadn't met before."

"Is she coping on her own?"

"She cried a bit, but I think she'll be okay. She seems to have a lot of support from her own family and I think I'll see more of them now. She's a good mom, maybe Sarah was a little harsh." She clicked her phone off and put it back in her bag. "It helps looking at that photo when I feel things start to overwhelm me - to remind me why it's better he's gone."

"That was brave, going to see them."

"What about you? Do you think you'll be able to get past what happened?"

"I already have. Sarah somehow managed to justify the events to me before they even happened. Our conversations were... It's the rest of it that's going to drive me crazy. Well, not crazy, but you know..." I floundered. I didn't even know what I was saying myself but Laney seemed to understand anyway. She nodded, a softness in her eyes.

"Maybe you don't want to hear this but, none of it would have probably happened without you," she said haltingly.

"What do you mean?"

"That day in The Hen, I would never have accepted Sarah's offer of a drink if you hadn't been there."

"Why not? It was Sarah you knew, not me."

"Well yes, but Sarah and I had bad blood. You looked so out of place in that bar, I kind of liked that," she chuckled. "I felt like I could trust you which is a very rare thing for me. And when it all started to erupt... It was only your presence that made me stay."

"Sarah said something similar to me that day in the kitchen," I said thoughtfully, shaking my head. "Were you really scared she was going to hurt you?"

"Yes, in a way. Why wouldn't she? After what I did."

"Then why did you follow her so easily into the building that night?"

"Good question."

"Don't tell me you were just drunk, I know you weren't."

"A part of me trusted her. The part that didn't thought I deserved everything I got from her. Feelings can be very erratic when you're in the state I was. I spent my life hating myself, she confronted me with that."

I nodded and felt the familiar ache return to my chest.

"I miss her so much."

"It was unforgivable, what she did to you," Laney responded softly. "You say she justified murder in your conversations before that night?"

"More or less. She was conflicted about something, obsessed with differentiating right from wrong. She was always asking my feelings on things like vigilantism."

"As if she was seeking your approval?"

"Yes," I admitted reluctantly. "I felt like she was asking for answers she couldn't get from anywhere else."

"She groomed you," Laney said. "It's not much different from what Jared was doing online."

"I wouldn't go that far. I was used but it didn't compare to him."

"No? Why not?"

"You're as aware as I am who held the most black marks against his name under the circumstances. And even now I don't regret any of it; Sarah served a dual purpose in my own life. She didn't hurt me. Do you feel she hurt you?"

"No. I just wouldn't have expected you to be so objective about what went down. You don't seem to be in the least pissed off that she took advantage of your feelings."

"What do you mean?" I asked guardedly.

"You were in love with her."

"How..." I hiccupped. She stated it so plainly and I remembered her comment in the bar. It felt pointless to deny it now and she wasn't treating it like it was weird. I picked at my fingernail nervously. "I don't think Sarah knew the extent of how I felt about her."

"Bullshit, she knew everything."

"Okay, but she didn't do it on purpose. It was a by-product. If anything, she passively discouraged my friendship."

"So she sat back and allowed everything to fall into place around her."

"I never really expected her to return my feelings anyway."

"Why shouldn't she?" Laney demanded in indignation. "You're gorgeous."

"You sound angry."

"I'm not angry for me but for you. She broke your heart."

"No, she didn't," I laughed. "She just reminded me I have one. It's nice you care though, makes me feel a whole lot less angry."

"So, you weren't in love with her?"

"I thought I was. Everything is so blurry now. How could I love someone whose identity was predicated on a lie?"

"We don't know that for sure."

"You're even more ambiguous than I am," I said. "You're making me feel better."

"Good," she smiled. "It's about time I did something useful."

"She was supposed to be the first one I ever told... It all seems so ridiculous now. My stupid problems, my stupid infatuation."

"Told what? That you... Oh wow, you've never told anyone?"

"Never. If Sarah knew it wasn't because I was brave enough to say it. I don't know how the hell you knew... How did you know?"

"It was pretty obvious."

"How?!"

"Don't look so scared," she assured me with a chuckle. "I just mean from the way you talked to her and the way you looked at her. I mean, you followed her that day, that's a dead give-away right there. Trust me, you don't look like a lesbian."

"Ah! It feels so weird to have someone call me that. You're the first person who's ever known. Isn't that sad?"

"No way. It's great. Some people go their entire lives without even admitting it to themselves. I think you just opened the closet door."

"Oh... Shit, you're right," I said fretfully and Laney laughed.

"How do you feel?"

"I don't know," I stared around as if testing my eyesight and looked at Laney, she met my gaze evenly. She was seeing someone I'd been ashamed of for so long and I wasn't blushing. "It feels okay. If it had been Sarah, I probably wouldn't have been able to look at her."

"She was a little intimidating."

"So intimidating," I agreed.

"Why? Why stay so deep in the closet all this time? You obviously have no confusion about your feelings."

"I didn't want to disappoint my family. I was afraid."

"And what will you do now? Will you tell them?"

"I don't know, it's still scary."

"But you're strong," she said. "And why should their feelings matter more than yours?"

"I think I'm more scared of people finding out how bad I've lied for so long than just being labelled gay. People will be hurt and they'll feel like they can't trust me about other things. It's turned into so much more than it used to be."

"Yes, I know all about lies spinning out of control. The honesty has to start somewhere, and maybe people will understand better than you expect. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"You already are. It feels nice to talk about it openly," I sighed. "Sarah did that for me at least. Without her, I'd probably still be keeping a guy around."

"You feel like she helped you too?"

"Yeah," I narrowed my eyes. "I'm still pissed at her but I can't regret it. You really think she was lying about who she was?"

"I don't think it was the Sarah from my childhood, but I could never prove it."

"Who could she have been?" I asked and Laney looked down at Gene's sleeping form and smiled mysteriously.

"A rogue angel? A virtuous demon? Maybe just some crazy bitch who liked sticking her nose into other people's business?" she offered and I snorted. It's a rare occasion when I feel like laughing and crying at the same time.

"If she wasn't who she said she was then I can't even put a name to her memory anymore," I said sadly.

"She'll always be Sarah," Laney countered. "One thing about it is straightforward - she freed me, she saved my life and probably my baby nieces as well."

I nodded, sniffed and remembered something which made me smile.

"She told me sulking didn't become me," I chuckled through my tears. "She said embarrassment suited me better."

"You are cute when you blush," Laney agreed.

"She said that as well," I said, looking at her in surprise. "You think she's still around somewhere?"

"Probably. I hope she can find peace."

"Maybe people like her are only at peace when they're fighting for something," I mused.

"A bit like you?" she suggested.

"You're the lawyer!" I said and she laughed.

"You and I made careers out of trying to do the right thing, by the book. A dreamer comes along and turns everything on its head."

"Mm," I nodded, looking at her chocolate eyes. Such beautiful eyes. I looked away abruptly. "The rest of your family... How is your father coping?" I asked and she gave me the most radiant smile.

"You're so sweet to remember. To care enough to ask."

"I remember every word that was said that day. You cared more for your parents than yourself. Is he okay?"

"Dad is in the early stages of Alzheimer's. He keeps forgetting Jared is even missing so he's been spared the worst. He's happy," she shrugged.

"Silver linings, huh?"

"Tell me about it. Anyway, I think I've taken up enough of your time. I should go."

"Don't," I said frantically, embarrassing myself. I studied the table top. "Sorry. I just..."

"You don't want to be alone?" she asked softly and I nodded.

"Is it weird?"

"No. I don't want to be alone either." She pulled a piece of folded paper from her coat pocket and pushed it across the table at me. "It was taped to my door when I got home," she said as I picked it up.

Look after Eden.

The light shines brightest through broken vessels.

"Sarah," I breathed, recognizing the handwriting straight away.

"I've been trying to work up the courage to visit for two weeks. I was so scared you wouldn't want to see me. In the end I convinced myself I was just following Sarah's orders but then I saw you and you hugged me and now ...I don't want to leave."

"But what does it mean?"

"I think I'm the broken vessel."

"Why does she always have to say nice things in horrible ways?"

"Ruthless truth?"

"I don't know about that," I said and glanced at her. "She expects you to look after me? Shouldn't it be the other way around?"

"Like you said," Laney shrugged, "she knew things."

"So we've been thrown together on the whim of what? An angel?"

"Do angels have whims?"

"You'll stay for dinner then?"

"I will," she smiled and reached down to Gene again. "Your dog is cool."

So that was how it happened. Laney and I didn't speak about the subject often after that night but it was always there between us, an understanding no one else could share in. Maybe it was strange that we ended up being so close after what we'd experienced together, or maybe it was the most natural thing in the world.

Quickly over the coming weeks I realized the flipside of Sarah's mission; I began to understand why she had talked about love. How she did it, I don't know, but I could never dispute the facts and their results. With an act of retribution and violence she brought me together with a person who would end up meaning more to me than life itself. Someone who would teach me how to be myself, to live honestly, free of guilt.

I understood these things but very little else. What or who Sarah was I'll never know and slowly her strange impact faded into history. Occasionally Laney would tease me about what it was like to kiss an angel.

"It was gooood," I'd croon and she would tickle me in jealousy.

End

***

I've been conflicted about whether to post this story. If you've actually managed to read it right through, I would like to hear your thoughts. Email mccallumsasha@gmail.com

Other titles by Sasha McCallum:

Bathrooms & Psychiatric Offices

The Reader & The Writer

There Will Be Blood

The Lake

The Arrangement

Said the Spider

Oculi

Pretty Ugly Place

Tinderbox

