Page 61 of Mayfly

Off the edge.

All the way to the pile of cement below me. Maybe then this piece of shit building that’s falling to bits around us can serve a purpose again.

Testing my theory, I slowly point my toes, but the second I move, Curren’s eyes are on me.

“He’s moving.”

Without looking away from him, Issak has the gun at my temple in a flash.

“No need for that.” Curren’s hand falls from Issak’s neck to slide down his arm, urging him to lower the pistol. “It’s not like he can go anywhere.”

“I… This is all I’ve ever wanted.”

“I know.” Curren nods, taking the gun from Issak and wrapping his arms around him. And as Issak pulls their chests together, Curren slides the gun into the back of Issak’s belt before hugging him in return.

“Why did you become so cold towards me?”

“I’ve always been this way.”

“No, you haven't. We were so close. You were the only reason I made it through juvie.”

“I know.” Curren loosens his hug on Issak to hold his cheeks. “You helped me too. I liked taking care of you.”

“So when did that all change?”

“Some time in that year after you aged out, and I was on my own, I guess.”

“You were never on your own.”

“I’ve…” Curren’s voice cracks, and he briefly pauses. “I’ve always been on my own.”

Like fuck, he has.

I shake my body as hard as I can. I push my toes and rock my head—anything I can do to put myself out of this misery. Then, the back of Issak’s hand whips the side of my face. The blood that was already dripping from my scalp smears across my cheek, and my heart leaps into my throat as I feel my balance shift.

This is it.

I’m going over.

I look at Curren one last time, but catch sight of his fist just before it collides with the other side of my face. My jaw cracks, my head spins, and my hope for the end is gone because the force of his punch corrects my balance.

“I told you not to worry about him,” Curren snaps, gripping Issak’s jaw and wrenching it back to look at him. “What’s the worst that’s gonna happen? He offs himself before you get a chance to?”

I try to scream through the tape.

Why did I leave my gun?

Why did I think Curren was the one he wanted to hurt?

“Looks like it’s finally getting to him,” Issak snickers, then takes hold of Curren’s wrist. “What’s with the gloves?”

Curren hesitates, looks away, then takes back his hand. “Do you like them?”

“They’re fine. It’s not really cold enough, though.”

“I know.” Curren rubs his hands on the front of his trousers, like he’s trying to wipe them clean.

“Oh, fuck!” Issak cuts him off, hugging him again. “I forgot. I’m so sorry. That’s why your pack needs disinfectant wipes.”

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