Page 11 of Mean One

“May, May, May,” she sang, swaying her body back and forth. Cindy was right about one thing: Max was shockingly beautiful. She seemed almost normal, despite holding a bloody axe and grinning like I was some prey before her.

“Max,” I stated, trying to swallow my growing fear.

“At your service.” Her vibrant eyes remained fixated on me as she offered a sarcastic curtsey. “Now, tell me: what is little Miss May-Martha doing all the way out here on this side of Whoreville?” She raised the axe, the blade scraping the underside of my chin, slightly lifting my head. “You’re not going back to say hello to your good ol’ friend Cindy down at the bar, now are you?” I swallowed again, the sharp metal nearly piercing my skin.

So I wasn’t crazy. I was being watched that night. By her.

I tried to remain calm, but I was petrified. I just needed to find a way to escape, to distract her so I could run. But how?

“W-why are you here?” I blurted out, my eyes falling to the hand on the ground. “And whose hand is that?” My stomach churned, unsettled by the messy body part.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m here doing whatever needs to be done to keephimhappy.” The way she pronounced the word ‘him’ was odd.

“Him? You mean the Grouch—” Max silenced my voice as she nicked my skin, a single bead of blood running down my neck as I winced.

“Don’t fucking call him that!” she growled through clenched teeth. “The Grouch,” she mocked, spitting on the ground. “He deserves so much more respect, more than you or any other person here have ever shown him!” Her rage and temper shocked me. She was so protective of him, so…

Of course.

“You love him,” I stated, but it felt more like a question. Max’s face softened for a moment.

“Love?” She laughed. “Oh, May-Martha, love is such a simple term, one that can’t even begin to describe the connection he and I share.” She pulled the blade from my neck as I gasped, my body nearly buckling from the relief. Max examined the sharp edge, licking the mixed blood, closing her eyes as she savored it before sucking her lips with a soft moan. “We are one and the same, he and I; two souls stitched together in the shadows of our pain. The world hated us, and in that rejection, we found each other.” Her eyes shot to me. “He may be stuck in the past, grasping onto the memories of the ‘relationship’ you two once had,” she gripped my face harshly, “but I plan to spend every second of every day reminding him just how fake it really was. Of what you did to him. I know what’s best for him, and you, May-Martha, are not that.”

Stuck in the past? Was he… After all these years, was he still thinking about me? Max seemed so sure he had moved on, but her jealousy… Was it a sign that, deep down, his heart still longed for me?Even after everything?

The faint sliver of hope made my own heart leap as I glared into her dangerous green eyes, a color so similar to my own. My fear was fading as my dull heart beat stronger, and something new began to peek through.

“You may think you know him, Max, but he and I share something you’ll never have.” She furrowed her brows, baring her teeth like an animal.

“Oh, really? And what is that?” Her face nearly slammed into mine, the axe returned to my neck.

My fingers shook as I ripped the front of my coat open, revealing my chest bulging from my corset. Inked into my pale skin was a red heart, a matching tattoo we once got in secret to always remember the one thing we’d always share.

“Our hearts are one, always and forever. He can’t give you what isn’t his.”

Max’s eyes bulged, obviously recognizing the tattoo. I tried not to smile, enjoying her rage as she screamed, roughly kicking me back onto the pavement. My spine ached from the impact, my head slamming onto the concrete as she stood over me with the axe, fuming. Her finger curled around the handle as her nostrils flared.

That’s right. No matter how much you try, he’ll never be yours.

I watched her irises as they fell, examining my body closely. She suddenly began to calm, switching from rage back to her frightening, playful self. That seamless fade of personalities horrified me more than anything as she laughed.

“May-Martha!” She used the axe to fully open my coat, pointing to my outfit, which was nothing more than a corset, lingerie, and netted tights. “You work down at that nasty old brothel, don’t you?” Max inhaled deeply. “Oh, you do. I can smell it all over you! Ha! What a naughty thing you’ve become.” My cheeks burned at her laughter. “Oh, I must say:this,” she swirled her finger in my direction, “is better than I ever could’ve imagined. You had such a bright future ahead of you, and you burned it all down. Now, here you are, wasting away in that brothel, fucking people for money!” Max squealed, pissing me off as she quickly snapped into another personality.

“Tell me,” she crouched down, tilting her head, “how does it feel? Knowing you let such a beautiful future slip through your delicate fingers? To know that the only worth you have left in this world is between your legs?” Another tear rolled down my cheek at her hateful words.

My temper took control, my hand slapping her across the face as I gasped at my own action. Max scoffed, smiling as she turned her face back to me. Her hand gripped the collar of my coat, yanking me like a doll.

“I can’t wait to see what he has planned for you.” She slammed her lips to mine, kissing me roughly as I froze. Her teeth bit down on my lower lip, causing it to bleed as I cried, my blood spilling into both our mouths. She released me, running her tongue along her lips. “Ahhh,” she exhaled. I didn’t know how to feel, but Cindy was right. Max was a fucking psycho.

“Tell Gus he says hello.” She winked, dropping my body as she rose to walk backward into the shadows, twirling the axe. “It’s almost Christmas, May-Martha,” she sang as she began to disappear. “Santa is coming. Too bad you’ve been a naughty girl.” Her laughter echoed, quickly fading away with her. I couldn’t move, horrified by everything that just happened.

What the fuck?

My eyes fell back to the dismembered hand next to me.

I once again flicked the lighter, the flame allowing me to peer closer at the hand, noticing the distinct tattoos. My eyes wandered, catching sight of a nearby trail of blood. I stumbled to my feet, my heels tapping as I followed it, the smeared trail leading to a large red puddle. I screamed as my gaze rose to the familiar body before me. Cindy was propped against the metal trash cans, her body mutilated and both her hands missing. Her neck was barely attached, as though it had been hacked at continuously, nearly decapitating her.

“Oh my—” My cries were silenced as I looked at the wall above her body, a warning painted across the wall in her blood, the letters dripping.

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