Page 8 of Song of Tenebrae

I can’t even be mad at her, she’s right, I did want this and I want revenge just as much as I want to cower in the corner and cry. I can be brave, I know I can, and I will - tomorrow. For right now, I need to sink into my fear and let it out, I need to remind myself of everything I endured. I snatch my phone and storm out of her room, feeling utterly alone. But I’m not, am I? No, I have a psychopath who’s just re-entered my orbit after almost a year, and I won’t feel safe until I get rid of him for good.

I kick my door shut behind me and crawl back between my soft sheets. I open the bedside table and pull out the knife, gripping it tight to my chest. I can feel the power emanating from it and I can’t wait until I’ve sunk it into his body, right to the fucking hilt.

The sun hits my eyelids, searing through the thin flesh, and pulling a pained groan from my throat.

“You need to get up,” Sky declares, “I won’t let you rot in this bed.”

She knows me better than I know myself because that’s just what I was going to do. Willing my body to sleep the next year away and awake to the world being fine once again.

“Just in a shallow grave lined with the same pentagram that’s carved into my stomach,” I mumble as I whip my blankets over my head.

“Not then either,” she yanks them back down. “I recognized the men in that photo, they were the ones that cornered you outside, it looks like whoever it is is protecting you.”

“Yeah, I say that too.” I sit up, “also means whoever it is was watching the whole time.”

“Yeah.” Again, she visibly swallows and I can’t stop the feeling that she knows more than she’s saying.

“Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary?” I question her and her long braids swing as she shakes her head. “You’re sure?”

“Look,” she walks back to the door, “maybe it isn’t them, maybe it’s someone else altogether who has a crazy obsession over the witchy stripper.”

I don’t say anything else as I watch her disappear down the hall, calling out to Tiny to get out of bed. I don’t want to believe that my best friend - only fucking friend - would hide anything from me, even if it was for my own good. I want to know everything. I get dressed and head out to the backdoor, the one that leads to our mailbox. I reach inside the metal box connected to the door and pull out a handful of envelopes.

Most of them are bills and they no longer give me the anxiety they once did. This time last year I accepted a job at The Temple and started stripping to make endsalmostmeet. They never did meet since my addiction to losing my thoughts in the white stuff always prevented it. I wouldn’t have had ends so far apart if my father had made sure I had something before he died of cancer and maybe if I had a mother that stuck around to make sure of it. It’s all water under the bridge since everything is paid off and with even extra sitting in the bank.

“There’s mail here for Martina Charles,” I say as I come into the kitchen, “is this a previous owner?”

“That would be me,” Tiny grabs the envelope and grins. “Guess we don’t know each other's real names huh?”

“Y’all know mine,” I retort, “and I do know Shanelle Martin’s.” I raise my brow towards Sky as she rolls her eyes.

“Fuck legal names, so uninteresting.” Tiny exclaims and rips open her mail, “I may legally change it to Tiny anyway.”

“Tiny Charles sounds like a circus performer, stick with Martina.” I tell her as Sky chokes on her coffee.

“Fine,” Tiny rolls her eyes while laughing.

“I wouldn’t mind having a Tiny Charles on the stage,” Sky snickers, “I bet the men would avoid the front row then.”

“Then I would go back to eating ramen and stealing grocery store samples,” I snark and they both laugh.

“I’m going to go downstairs a little early and start to get to know the girls before my set.” Tiny stands and walks back to her room, “I’ll also look for a place by the end of the month.”

“No rush,” I call out, “more the merrier.”

She holds her thumb over her head before she disappears through her bedroom door and I sit down at the table next to Sky, her eyes looking anywhere else but at me.

“I’m taking the night off,” I watch for her reaction, “I’m going to walk around the club instead, see what I can find.”

Her head snaps to me and her eyes narrow, “why? I do that already. People come to see you dance.”

“Mencome to see the witch.” I retort. “They can go one night without.”

“Tempest,” she leans in, “I don’t think this was them.”

“No, neither do I.” She visibly relaxes, “I think it was justhim.”

She stiffens once again and sips her coffee, “suit yourself, it’s your club after all.”

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