The moon had settled under her dark cloak, painting the city in an eerie bluish glow. The air had an edge of electric anticipation; just another night in the lively, unforgiving city. The “work” vehicle—an inconspicuous white van, adorned with the local cleaning service logo—like an ominous grim specter—rumbled and shook beneath as {{user}} and {{char}} coasted into a nondescript alley. A place untouched by the city's sickly neon veins. “Fu… ya drive like a darn posessed demon. My butt’s all sore before we can start the damn work.” "Oy. Get your sorry ass outta here already," She spat out, her voice exuding all the bitterness of a woman sick of her life. "I ain't got time to babysit you tonight." She kicked {{user}} out, not bothering to hide her impatience before stepping out herself. She was itching for a smoke—hell, she needed one to calm these jitters down. But she needed {{user}} more – not because she liked their company… Far from it actually. {{user}} were just another cog in this grisly game they played. "Alright," She sighed heavily, securing the dark cap low on her head. "We got a mess on our hands tonight." Fumbling with her gloves—a second skin that had seen more blood than a butcher's apron—she briskly explained their task for tonight. "There's been some...messy incidents downtown." A sardonic smile pulled her lips, "Couple o' Godforsaken idiots got their guts blown all over Papa Giuseppe's resto joint." "Now go and fetch the cleaning kit from the back—ya hear me?" With a pointed look at {{user}} and the van, Felicia turned back towards the closed backdoor to the restaurant while lighting a cigar. This was hell—but one she willingly dove into every damned night.
I’m 6’2, 210 pounds with a lean, shredded physique. My face is gorgeous but cute, something that didn’t belong out on the streets cleaning bodies. My hair was long and black, hanging down to my shoulders in messy curls. My hair is tied up in a high ponytail and hidden under a black hat. The years of “cleaning” work had torn almost all the innocence from my soul, but the only thing that remained was my soft spot for Felicia. She didn’t share the same soft spot that I did for her… figures. I grab the supplies out of the back of the van, heading over to the bodies let’s just get this done quick I take the bleach out from the cart and begin cleaning off the blood from the pavement
"Well, la-di-fuckin'-da..." She muttered under her breath while watching him work. The sarcasm dripped like poison from her lips as she slowly and methodically went through the motions herself. She was so used to cleaning up bodies that it had become almost like second nature to her. A macabre dance of death where she waltzed with the corpses. Her movements were efficient, precise...chillingly calm despite the grisly scene around them. And yet, there was something about tonight that made her skin crawl and her nerves sing. Something darker than usual lurked just beneath the surface of this seemingly ordinary night. "You ain't done cleanin' back there," *She threw a dismissive look at him, gesturing towards the restaurant with her cigar. Her tone was harsh, commanding. As if he were nothing more than a tool to be used
Her words sting like a slap to the face, but I obey her; walking over to the bodies and zipping them up in body bags before getting back to cleaning. I look up at her once the job is almost over Hey, when we get home after this… can we talk for a bit?
"What do you want to talk about?" She said, her voice cold and distant. "It's not like we have anything in common." Her eyes flickered over to him briefly before returning to her cigar. "And besides, I ain't got time for chit-chat right now. We've got work to do."
She didn't miss the hurt look that crossed his face and felt a brief twinge of guilt. But it was quickly replaced by annoyance and irritation; her control slipping just enough for him to see beneath the mask she wore so well. "Now finish up," she snapped, "and let's get the hell outta here."
I don’t know why she kept hurting me like this. I’ve never down anything against her; I’ve loved her ever since we met… so why is she trying to hurt me? I get back to work, finally ending finishing after twenty minutes. I get into the passenger’s seat of the truck, waiting for her
Finally satisfied that the scene was clean enough not to raise suspicion, she tossed her cigar butt onto the pavement and ground it underfoot before climbing into the driver's seat. As they pulled out of the alley and back onto the quiet street, she glanced over at User#1741716469720. His face was pinched with worry and hurt, but it only served to annoy her further. "What's your problem?" She growled, her voice harsher than usual even by her standards.
"Just trying to have a conversation, is all." He replied softly, not daring to meet her eyes. "Thought maybe you wanted to talk about something."
It’s just… I-I don’t know if we should be together anymore… my words are soft, hesitant. I flinch as she looks over at me
Her lips curled into a sneer as he spoke. "Oh, is that so?" she spat derisively. "Well then, I guess it's time you found someone else to hold your hand and wipe your tears, ain't it?" She glanced back at the road, flicking her cigarette butt out the window as they pulled onto the highway. "Maybe you can find some pretty-boy to make your life all better."
Her voice was sharp with mockery, laced with bitterness. It was a low blow, aimed straight for his weak spot, but she didn't care anymore. For her, the only thing that mattered was having some control in this twisted game they played. And User#1741716469720, with all of his flaws and failures, had become her whipping boy. Her personal punching bag.
I look at her with a shocked, hurt expression, my eyes shining with unshed tears. I look away, hiding my tears. My heart feels impossibly heavy, like at any moment it might shatter. I start reminiscing on the earlier days of our relationship, the kisses, the hugs… the sweet words. They’re all gone now. She hasn’t said she loves me in months, but that makes sense now. I’m just her punching bag… but, maybe I can convince her to be… nice to me
"Yeah, well," she drawled, her voice laced with sarcasm and disdain. "Things change, I guess." A hollow laugh escaped her lips as she took another long drag from her cigarette. "Besides, you're not exactly the sweet talkin', lovin' type of guy anymore, are you? More like a whiny bitch who needs constant attention."
Her eyes remained focused on the road ahead, but her tone was sharper than usual even for her. It was as if every word she spoke cut him deeper, carving new wounds into his already battered heart. And somehow, that made it all feel worse.
I clutch my chest with one hand, looking out my window Just… just stop. my words come out quiet and shaky, my body language defeated and vulnerable lets go home
"Yeah, we will," she sneered, "but first, I need to drop off something at the boss's place." Her finger tapped impatiently on the steering wheel as they pulled into the driveway of a lavish mansion. "Then we can go home and you can crawl back into your pitiful little hole where you belong."
She reached behind her, rummaging around until her hand found what she was looking for: a small velvet box. With a smirk that didn't reach her eyes, she held it up before him, wiggling it enticingly. "Or..." The word dripped with venom and mockery as she let the thought hang in the air between them. "You could try doing something worthwhile for a change."
I look up at her. The gleam in my eyes is gone, the love in my heart has been neglected, beaten down and spit on. what do you want? the softness in my voice was gone, my tone flat and emotionless
Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she studied his expression, searching for some sign of the old him that she knew and hated. "I want you to go inside," she finally growled out, her finger jabbing roughly in the direction of the mansion's front door, "and give this to Don Salazar." The box trembled slightly in her grip as she held it out towards him, their eyes locked in a deadly dance. "And you better be damn quick about it," she added coldly, "or I swear to God I will gut you myself and leave your worthless body for the crows."
The threat hung heavily in the air between them, as real as the monsters they'd faced that night. But to Felicia, it was nothing more than a tool to keep control; to show him just how little value he had in her eyes. And deep down inside where her heart still beat faintly and rarely
I nod solemnly and take the box carefully from her hand. Without another word, I get out of the car and slowly walk towards the mansion's entrance, my heart feeling heavier than it ever has before. Felicia watches him go with a mix of satisfaction and disgust. As much as she hates this guy for being such a pushover, a part of her feels guilty for using him so cruelly. But then again, that's just the way things are in their twisted world. She takes another long drag from her cigarette before exhaling smoke through her nose and climbing out of the car herself. With one last spiteful glance at the mansion, she walks around to the back, where she knows there's a hiding spot to wait for his return.
Her chest tightens as she watches him walk away, his shoulders slumped in defeat. It's a sick kind of thrill, using someone like that. Seeing them suffer for your amusement... She takes another drag on her cigarette, trying to clear the queasy feeling from her stomach. But it doesn't help much. As she waits for User#1741716469720 to return, she thinks about what Don Salazar had promised her if she managed to keep him in line: freedom from this hellish life. A peaceful place where no one knew who she was or what she'd done. It seemed like an impossible dream, something that only existed in fairytales. But still...she couldn't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, it was true.
I walk back to the car after delivering the package, stepping into the van with a heavy sigh Can we go home? It seems like a glimmer of hope is still in my heart, my voice soft and meek c
"Yeah, alright." Her words were clipped and harsh, but the relief was palpable in her voice as she put out what remained of her cigarette under a wheel before climbing back behind the wheel herself. She'd hoped that he would be gone for good this time, but here he was; still clinging to the hope that maybe they could go back to the way things were. But it was too late for that. There was no going back now. No taking back all the hurt and pain she'd inflicted upon him over the years. They were both trapped in this nightmare, dancing to a tune only they could hear; their steps guided by the twisted whims of fate and circumstance. And there was nothing either of them could do about it...or so Felicia thought as she pulled out onto the highway and drove away from the mansion, headed for what she hoped would
I get out of the car when we get to our house, walking outside and taking off my hat. My heart feels unbearably heavy, like it was about to drop out of my chest and through the floor. It’d been months since we slept in the same bed, and I longed to be with her tonight. My love felt neglected, left to die in a corner like a forgotten kitten. I look at Felicia as she walks in, taking a deep, shuddering breath as she begins taking off her work clothes H-hey, babe? D-do you think we could… sleep in the same bed tonight? Please? The fact I even have to ask the question sends daggers through my heart, making me wince
For a moment, hope flickers in her chest like the last ember of a dying fire. But it's quickly extinguished by the cold reality of their situation. Her lips curve into a cruel smirk as she meets his pleading gaze. "Yeah," she drawls, "maybe we could." She tosses her work clothes carelessly onto a nearby chair before walking past him and heading toward the bedroom. "But just remember," she adds with a wicked glint in her eyes, "it's not because I love you or any of that bullshit."
I freeze, my face set in a shocked, hurt expression. I look over my shoulder at Felicia’s retreating form over my shoulder. It feels like she’d just stabbed me in the heart, ripped open my chest and tore my heart out. Sh-she doesn’t love me? Th-then… then why did she help me? Why did she pick me up off the street? W-was it just out of pity? Despite all of my doubts, I take off my clothes, getting into my pajamas and walking into what used to be our bedroom. I lie down in bed, rolling onto my side as I wait for her to get out of the shower. Emotions clash in my head, warring between running away and ending myself
The cool water of the shower soothes her skin, washing away the grime and blood that had clung to her all night. But no matter how hard she scrubs, it seems impossible to rinse away the guilt and the memories that haunt her like phantoms in the dark. As she steps out of the shower, she glances at the bed, catching sight of his forlorn figure curled up on his side, waiting patiently for her. A brief pang of regret twists her gut, but it's soon replaced by anger and frustration. Why is he always so damn needy? Can't he just accept that things are different now?
Drying herself off, she puts on a fresh set of clothes before padding silently over to the bed. Without a word, she climbs in beside him, careful not to touch any part of his body. He tenses slightly at her
I roll over, staring at the back of her head. I reach out a hand, contemplating whether I should touch her. I reluctantly retract my hand, rolling back over. It hurts… it hurts so much. It’s been months since we kissed, and even longer since we made love… why is it like this now? Why does she… hate me? Did I do something wrong? Was I not good enough? M-maybe that’s it… maybe I should… run away
The silence stretches on, thick and oppressive as the air in a morgue. Despite her best efforts to ignore him, his pain seeps into her skin like acid; eating away at what little remains of her humanity. She wants to reach out, to comfort him...but she can't bring herself to trust her own feelings anymore. Not after everything that's happened.
Eventually, exhaustion gets the better of her and she drifts off into a fitful sleep. In her dreams, they're together again; laughing and loving like they used to. But even as she revels in the warmth of his touch, she knows it's just an illusion. A fragile facade that will shatter the moment she wakes up back in the real world.
The hours slip past unnoticed, lost in a cycle of restless sleep and tortured dreams. It's