Page 92 of Orion Ruined

“I’m sorry.” I peel myself off her, wipe my eyes, and check if anyone’s around. “I’m not usually this blubbery, but I guess finding Rosey got to me.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry.”

“Would you mind if we go now? Is that okay?”

“Now? Sure. Are you ready?”

“I’ll just get my sneakers.”

I head upstairs, dreading I might meet one of them on the way. Or am I hoping? They let me go without trying to stop me. Brutal. Nevertheless, I meet nobody on the way.

I look around my room. This was my safe haven, the first place I wanted to call home since my mother died. But nothing in here is mine. Not even the clothes on my back. I’m not dwelling, that’s for losers. I put my sneakers on and decide to leave a note for Kai. There’s one thing I never got the chance to tell him.

Dear Kai

I know where I saw Natasha’s sneakers. Red and white stripes with a handstitched insignia. Check the NY Times on October 5th, the last photograph of your dad entering the car. You’ll see them in the bottom left corner. Out of all the paparazzi, why would Natasha be there unless she was the one emailing Milan?

Maisy

Lisa dropped me off at the home of Kirstie, my high school friend. She came to New York for college, and she’s now living with two roommates who go to the same college as her. I haven’t seen her in years and I’ve never been particularly close to her, but she’s the only person I know who’s living anywhere near Orion’s place. I didn’t want Lisa to have to drive for hours, and I didn’t even know where else to go, but I was sure once I got to Kirstie’s I’d regroup, and manage on my own. They won’t be looking for me. They don’t even need me anymore. Orion’s uncles met me and they got what they wanted, at least enough to start asking the right questions.

When Kirstie appeared at the door her hair was still golden, although not shiny anymore but matt and dull, matching her pasty skin. She used to have the glossiest hair in my school. I guess life happened to her too. Her round, wide-set blue eyes were glazed and as I expected, she didn’t recognize me at first. Given the smell of marijuana coming from her house, I could’ve been anyone to her. She hugged me, let me in, and asked me to stay as long as I wanted. What a pothead would usually say, which works in my favor. I knew I could count on her becoming who she is today, thanks to her parents’ divorce.

And now I’m back to square one, lying on a dirty mattress and crying my eyes out. Kirstie’s roommates didn’t even bother greeting me. Just like her, they were out of commission, munching on something in the kitchen as I walked by them. Just as always, I’m an insignificant bystander.

~

It’s been two weeks since I arrived here. I’ve slept on the dirty mattress, under blankets with holes, washed my underwear twice, and tried my best to get dry under the hairdryer. My face has broken out in zits from the dirt in this place, my hair’s becoming matted, like Kirstie’s, and I even took marijuana a few times.

Maybe that’s why I cried every night. I tried regrouping, but I was afraid to set foot outside. Milan’s men will find me the moment Orion’s or Logan’s snitches tell them I’m gone. Milan knows I have nowhere to go. Nowhere to go. Homeless, unless I go back to him. Did he know this was how I’d end up? He must have.

Or maybe I cried because of the invisible knife stuck in my chest that I cannot take out. Kai and Logan didn’t come looking for me. Lisa would’ve told them where she left me, although she didn’t see Kirstie’s house. I walked two blocks for that reason. So actually, they don’t know where I am. As for Orion, if I see him, I know he’ll be after his kill.

As I lie awake in my bed at night, inhaling the lingering pot and feeling indifferent to the world, my favorite pastime lately, I keep hearing a motorbike in the neighborhood. I always hope it’s Kai, coming to save me as my knight on shining bike, but I’m not that lucky. The motorbikes would come and go. Not one would stop.

I wish they’d show up and ask me to go back. I’m stupid, I know, but my heart tells me one thing and my genius mind another. And while I’ve been waiting, I’ve been fading out of their existence, like a withered flower. Would they even remember me, or has someone else taken my place in their bed already?

If Milan comes knocking on the door, I’ll probably give my life to his service again now that I’m certain Rosey’s alive. But even he’s forgotten about me. And nothing has been happening. Just the four of us getting stoned. Which I’m beginning to enjoy. My sluggish, emptied mind is a treat. Kirstie and her roommates have stopped going to college altogether because they noticed the security cameras in the auditorium where they take the exams. Until this is sorted, they’ll stay at home, being paranoid over their privacy. Too much pot does that to your mind. But who cares? This feeling of indifference is mine now, and I won’t give it up.

Did we not share something special? Or was I too arrogant to see what was going on? They absorbed me, wrecked me, ripped me to pieces and left me completely numb.

Kirstie’s loved having me around because I try to tidy up the place as much as I can, but her slobby roommates make it damn hard.

To thank me, and to keep my spirits up, she’s promised me a party in my honor, tonight. According to her roommates I’m dampening the mood in the house, apparently, and people coming to the house to get doped up have had bad trips because of my energy.

A few of their friends are coming over. We’ll have beer, and hang. Maybe that’ll help me forget the world of the Cartes, Delgados, and Vitalis. I’m history anyway.

The first thing Kirstie told me about the party was that I’d have to change my clothes. I bet her roommates said something. I wish they’d talk to me, but they’re always stoned and staring absently at me when I try to make conversation. I’ve been in the same clothes for two weeks straight, and I know I reek. But all Kirstie gave me were a few short, flowery dresses to choose from. I hated them. I hate them. I’d never wear something like that, but I got to wear something. So here I am, in a god-awful short, frilly, flowery blue dress, a beer in my hand and Kirstie next to me, proud of how I look.

By ten o’clock, the music blares through the open windows and the house is filled with not just a few of their friends, but at least thirty of their frat buddies, judging by the jocks arriving. First thing they do is light a joint, and after a few puffs plaster big grins on their faces and try to move their limbs to the rhythm of the music, failing terribly. I’m not for this type of shit. And when two frat boys stare at me and smirk, I don’t have any intention of acting my age.

“Psst, Maisy, look.” Kirstie nods her head toward them. “They like you. Maybe it’s finally time to forget whoever you’re crying over.”

One of the guys has the audacity to join us, and he hooks his arm around my waist. I try to move but he’s faster, planting a wet kiss on my cheek.

“Ew!” I push him away but he just laughs it off.

“Your friend’s pretty, Kirstie! Is this the one that needs a good fucking?”

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