Page 6 of Repossess My Heart

She takes a hesitant step back before turning away from me, her hand clutching the fabric of her suit over her breasts. She fucking turned. Turned her back to me! A second passes before she jumps leaving me bleeding out on the roof, darkness fluttering along the edges of my vision. She hit something important, of course she would.

“You might not know it yet, sweetling, but I fucking own you. There's a price on that pretty heart of yours and it’s mine to collect!” I yell after her as I call my drone down, seconds before I hit the rooftop with a blunt thud.

3

A Promise

New Person Same Old Mistakes by Tame Impala

Reverie

“What the fuck? What. The. Actual. Fuck!” The metal alloyed cup leaves my shaking palms, still covered with my blood and I’m sure the other man’s. The living room feels small and cramped as I pace. The sound of the cup slamming against the wall barely breaks me from my mounting panic. I don’t dare remove my eyes from the floor, avoiding the shadowy figure in the corner. She’s mocking me, I can feel it. I told you so written on the walls in flashy paint.

“I…”

What the fuck?

My breath leaves me in short rough pants as my feet carry me to the bathroom, the harsh bright light making my eyes water as I stare at my reflection. My breasts heave as I glower at the long, raised line of flesh, several shades lighter than my own. I can’t decide if I’m truly pissed or… hurt?

“Your eyes are wrong.”

My breath leaves me all at once, puffing up the small strands of hair that got stuck in the sweat beading on my forehead. “Fucking psycho.” My rapid-firing mind sends a chill running down the length of my spine.

But still…

My fists tighten on the small metal sink as I stare. Blinking over and over as if it’ll clear whatever he saw in my eyes. What he didn’t like. My teeth score my inner cheek, a small hiss leaving my throat as the taste of copper fills my mouth. Wiping away the bitter, cheap alcohol I chugged as soon as I made it in. The organ in my chest flutters as my eyes mist over, brimming with water.

Do it.

Cry.

But I don’t.

I never do.

A frustrated yell fills the small circular bathroom as I shove off the sink, barely halting my steps quick enough to not shoulder check the automatic sliding door as I breeze past it. The throbbing pain in my calf is the last thing on my mind as I spin to face the far-right corner. We stare at each other for a moment, or I stare at her, waiting for nothing. I force my bottom lip to tremble, still my eyes remain dry.

What’s wrong with my eyes?

I was ready.

All this fear, the looming threat, the hiding… it was all going to end. Finally end.

“I was going to let him do it, you know. I really… I… wanted him to get it over with.”

I step back until my body sags against the low back of the couch, waiting to be reprimanded. As if saying that out loud… even to a dusty hunk of metal should fill me with shame. Worse even, that the words may drift under the locked door in the hall.

“CeCe…” I whisper, waiting, “I want to die. She sacrificed everything for me, to give me a chance at a life but… I’m tired. I’m ready for him… the Repo Man. I’ve been ready for a while.”

Holy fuck, I stabbed a Repo Man.

Bitter laughter leaves me next, which only compounds his point. I’mwrong. I should feel fear, grief even. I’m just fucking bitter and empty. So fucking empty, “He didn’t… he wouldn’t kill me. He…fuckwhat he did to the other guy, all of that just to refuse? I think I might’ve killed him.” At least they’ll send someone more capable next. The image of his muscular form shoving off the roof floods my senses. The way he smelled up close, like musk and rain… right before a storm. At least I think so, CeCe described it in so much detail I could swear I smelled it at the time. That’s what he smelled like, but maybe I’m wrong all together. There’s no fucking way anything so terrible, so horrifying, would possibly smell like something as pure as rain. His justice wasn’t swift and brutal like a thunderstorm, not for me anyway. Thousands of thoughts batter the inside of my head, making it throb in tune with the cut on my calf. I stare at my old care bot, her wires still partially exposed, the maintenance panel haphazardly screwed in place from all those years ago when I tried to make sense of their functions, desperate to not be left alone again. My mother’s death at the time felt like a slight. I had begged her to stay home. Preferring her warm loving arms at bedtime to the cold metal of the care bot. I begged her. I was prepared to beg him tonight, too.

Then she was gone, and I was alone, like right now.

“Reverie, step away from the door.”

My small hands shake at my sides as I sob, my entire body turned inside out, “I want my mommy! Let me see her!”

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