Last Exit Ch. 02

Author's Note: This is the second entry of "Last Exit", a four part series. Content warning: this chapter includes consensual non-consent, extreme BDSM, breath play, and more. This chapter lurches closer to horror at times. Please observe the category this story is placed in, as well as the additional tags.

For fans of All She Ever Wanted, keep an eye out towards the end. Enjoy.

Last Exit - Chapter 2

Dr. Jaeden reclined in his seat, a tick of the clock, a click of his pen. He fixed his glasses, reviewed his notes, bushy brows lifting as he spoke softly, his pronunciation articulate, and poised.

"Do you like hurting other people?"

Fin didn't hesitate, so immediate was his response that it alarmed Dr. Jaeden.

"Yes. I like hurting people."

"Could you expand on that?"

"I don't want someone to suffer pointlessly, or watch someone be in pain. I like to be the one who controls pain."

"Control? In what way?"

"With my hands. With tools."

Dr. Jaeden nodded. He wrote, ballpoint scratching what was only legible to him onto his notepad. He glanced at the clock before he spoke.

"Is this something that drove away Grace?"

"Partially. There were other circumstances."

"Did you hurt her?"

Fin shook his head and wiped his palms on his jeans, wishing he could feel the nestle of his leather gloves, coiled around his hands, breaking from his daze he spoke.

"No, goodness no. I would never hit or hurt a woman."

Dr. Jaeden tapped his pen against his desk. He studied Fin's face, unnerved by his stillness. He spoke.

"You just said you enjoyed hurting people, Fin it's important that you are honest and consistent. Radical acceptance, remember?"

"I need to explain myself. Grace left because, in our bedroom she didn't like my proclivities."

"And this was sexual in nature?"

"Yes. I wasn't doing it to cause her pain, I wanted to show her my love."

"Was this just BDSM? Was it consensual?"

"No."

"No what? As I mentioned Fin you must be direct, this has been discussed."

Fin steepled his hands and leaned forward, speaking with a reticent joy that crept over his lips.

"I understand. No it's much more. Yes it was consensual."

"You're sure it was consensual?"

"Absolutely. That's what drove her away. She tried, and was scared she enjoyed it, and when she saw me as I truly was, it terrified her."

"What do you mean, more than BDSM?"

"It's experiential, an expression of need. It brought me closer to her."

"Fin, we talked about directness for over a year now, you need to be plain."

"Again, my apologies. By being in control, by showing someone their limits, I am vulnerable, and we deepen our bond."

"If you are in control, how can you be vulnerable? You are in "control" during these sexual encounters correct?"

"Yes. I'm vulnerable because I am honest in every action, words don't have meaning in such a shared space."

"How is hurting someone else creating vulnerability? Creating a bond?"

Fin crossed his leg, speaking plainly as his unwavering eyes locked with Dr. Jaeden's.

"Because if they are receptive, we are honest with pain and pleasure. Our pure selves. Those actions are the only things that are true. Does that make sense?"

"That line of logic can lead to consequential behaviors that can severely damage your reputation Fin, especially here, where you are a proprietor. It can also lead to serious legal issues."

"That's why I do it with only people I love."

"So only in a relationship? Not a one night stand?"

"No absolutely not. Only with those that I love, purely, truly. I could never share this with just anyone."

Dr. Jaeden nodded writing more notes, several pages full, wondering who or what sat across from him. Knowing he would speak to his own therapist about the enigma that he saw weekly. He spoke, deliberately as he clicked his pen in cadence with his own speech.

"Have you ever had a relationship where you didn't, utilize this approach in your intimacy?"

"No."

"Where did this emerge from? How old were you when you discovered this form of intimacy?"

"Nineteen. Before I enlisted."

"With whom?"

"I'd rather not say. She was very close to me. She made me see what I could be. Who I should be."

"How long were you with her?"

"We were together eight months."

"What happened to her?"

Fin paused, looking out the window, as if to see someone, and found only his reflection. He cleared his throat, and spoke.

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"That's fine. Did you submit to her?"

"At first. But she showed me what she wanted actually. Dominance. I was in love. She fit my... soul like a second skin."

"Did she enjoy this submission?"

"Too much. That's why there were issues later."

"Was this woman single?"

"Married."

"So this was an affair?"

"Not quite."

"I see. Fin our time here is almost up, I would like you to keep practicing affirmations daily to explore how you don't need to have these desires intrude on a healthy relationship. Keep writing in your journal."

"I will. Thank you Dr. Jaeden. I'll make an appointment for next week."

"See you soon. Take care."

Fin stood, carefully slid the chair back in and exited, black combat boots thudding against the floor, he made an appointment and left. He drove to Last Exit in silence, no music, no words, no thoughts, as he preferred.

When he arrived he prepped for the day, checked volume on hand for spirits, inspected keg lines and taps, methodical and tried. It may be a dive bar, but it was his legacy, his father worked to build it up, Fin would now be its caretaker, it's steward, resolute and disciplined.

Once done, he made his way to the back office and locked the door behind him. His session reminded him of Grace, his ex-fiance. He remembered the very last time they were intimate, the cool refrain of the fan overhead adding to his pleasure as he felt his cock stiffen.

Fin recalled how he had met Grace at a fundraiser hosted by the provost of a local Catholic university. She awkwardly stood out, taller than every other woman there, caramel skin, adult braces, with an innocent face that he immediately adored. She was shy, timid, and not quick to agree to Fin's courtesy and advances. But eventually, she allowed him to court her.

Their relationship grew, tender and direct, for the first time ever she reached climax with Fin's tongue, never having had a man go down on her, bring her over that ledge of pleasure. She savored every time they fucked, she gave all of herself to him. Over the next year, she noticed he seemed increasingly detached, no matter how much he showed he loved her, her carnal cravings for him were met with timidity, a growing reversal of the initial flare of their relationship.

To her shock, he had proposed to her during her birthday, she said yes, the ring he offered was stunning, she didn't dare refuse. That night he spoke of his desires, listed what he wanted her to experience. She was aghast. He assured her that if she didn't enjoy it, he wouldn't ask her to do it again. Ever. She pondered for three weeks, clarifying his intent, before she agreed, near Halloween. Fin was precise in all his requirements, instructing her on every aspect of this role play scenario that she found to be infinitely disturbing. Fin told her that there was only one safe word "Sophia".

That Halloween night, Grace stood, as she was instructed, winged eyeliner, auburn pigtails, her cheer leading uniform pristine; with a fashionable teal Fjällräven backpack, tapping the toes of her all white, crisp Adidas Gazelle's, as if to be picked up after cheer practice. She had agreed to the performance of her life, out of love, out of desire for him. She would regret what it would reveal about them both.

Grace stood, as instructed, pom poms in hand, one knee crossed over the other, looking innocent, bratty, and bored, twirling one of her pigtails around her finger callously. Fin quickly approached from behind, a stalking shadow behind her was all Grace saw before he wrapped a length of electric cord around her thin neck, dragging her backwards into a car parked behind an alley, his biceps and shoulders stinging with the effort of dragging the tall, lithe woman across the pock marked asphalt. She could already feel herself weeping in regret. As for Fin, his cock stiffened with every step, scrape, and kick of her fruitless resistance.

She let loose a choked scream as her long legs kicked out, white sneakers already scraped, scuffed and dirtied. She struggled wildly, shocked at how stiff the cord has become, her vision already blurring, a bruise forming around her neck, Fin's leather gloves visible as her head started to slacken.

As he dragged her, her foot slammed into a dumpster, shuddering its lid, if she could have screamed she would have, but the cord wrapped around her throat was too tight, there was no restraint from Fin, inducing within her a pure expression of terror. She was dragged past the dim lights, emptied barrels and puddles, the filthy water within splashing up against her skirt as she thrashed. The trust she had placed in him disappeared with her own breath.

The abandoned building he dragged her into was cramped, and meticulously prepared. The placement of every broken item, was intricate, purposeful, a set Fin had designed. A single floodlight gouged away at the dark. As he dragged her near the hot lamp, he let part of the cord fall slack, to return the color he had greedily stole from her face. She winced and coughed, deep and rattling, lungs tortured as she tried to restore her vision.

Fin knelt in front of her, and helped her sit up right, embracing her tightly, running his hand against the back of her head, kissing her deeply, as if to breathe back into her lungs. He began dressing her with rope, rough and scratching, wrists bound behind her waist, triple knotted. He took the remainder of the rope, and created a pentagram shape around her flat chest, knotting the rest around her neck and tied back down around her wrists, he treated each pass of the rope like a brush against a canvas, deliberate, tender in his brutality. He finished with a sign of the cross.

He peeled her jaw down, and placed a pill in her mouth, MDMA, cupped her mouth and massaged her throat, treating her no better than a dog.

"Swallow it."

She had no idea what he was doing, this hadn't been planned.

"What... what was that?

"Something to help you relax."

Fin took a piece of dense black cloth from his back pocket, smothering it across the ground, picking up grit, sand and dust in it. He lovingly blindfolded Grace, tying it as one would a ribbon for a gift, her eyes immediately burning, false eyelashes now a cage for the floor's jagged granules. She blinked rapidly as the world closed around her, her mascara already running as she wept, breaking into a nervous sob, Fin's gloved hands held her face as he spoke into her ear with softness as she winced.

"I love you enough, that I don't want you to see what I'm going to do to you."

She winced as her lips quivered, a boiling sensation rising in her stomach, pulse quickening, panting as her world turned dark, and Fin kissed her cheek. He grabbed a short piece of rebar, no bigger than six inches, he tapped her lips with it. He spoke, his voice, a promise of restrained violence.

"Open up. Bite down."

She did as instructed, tasting rust, the stench of old iron suffocating her palette. As she held the bar between her teeth, she heard the sweeping lock of a folding knife.

She felt the flat of the blade run across her thigh, not a single nick, every movement surgical. She felt the edge slip under her white panties, cutting. Fin ripped the rest off with ease. She heard some soft movement and felt his gloved hand move against her silken, bare cunt. She was appalled that she was wet, her body twitching with every sensation.

She struggled as instructed, in part no longer acting, as he slowly extracted the rebar, her teeth aching as it dragged across her enamel, a crude file, clipping against her braces. As he tossed it aside, it slid into a corner with an echoing clang, she sobbed and spoke.

"Fin, please..."

He kissed her, hands gently around her face, she realized as his lips tenderly pressed against hers, that their engagement was over, her future hopes laid to waste.

As she sniffled, he grabbed her plain white panties, now rubbed in dirt and shoved them inside her mouth till she gagged. He stood her up and pushed her against the wall, lifting her skirt, pinning her firmly with his forearm against her throat. His fingers spread her labia, his thumb pressed against her clit, applying excessive pressure, circular motions, changing, now lighter taps, transitioning to motions that were drawn in complex directions, each one tugging at her nerves. He was searching for the angle that was her own, the touch that thrilled her, the one he knew, she moaned through her panties, he could feel her tighten. He stopped, denying her. He kissed her forehead, leaned down to kiss her, and spit in her mouth as her lips parted.

She mumbled frantically, no matter her degradation, she craved release. He checked his watch, still pinning her, waiting a minute as she writhed, her hands clenching into fists with need. He tapped her clit, firm, rubbing it, fingers curved with a fondness for her, she writhed in response. He stopped again. She was now sobbing, her need for release impending, with her thighs clenched to try and generate any motion to for release. He leaned over and tapped her clit once, dragged a finger over it, tapped again, continuing her agony as she shook. She screamed through her panties, now a heavy, spit soaked gag in her mouth that she tried to eject past her lips, to no avail as Fin shoved them back in again with his whole hand, her jaw burning as his forearm pushed deeper into her neck.

He spread his fingers around her clit, pulling them wide, moving his other hand between her thighs, using his body to hold her against the wall, first a single finger, than two, than three as she winced from the stretching. He splayed his fingers inside, his other hand ensuring her clit was never close to being touched, she was kicking now, purring and whining, as her release beckoned. She felt weightless, grimacing, before his fingers slid over her slowly, her delicate panting turning into rapture that boiled over inside her entire body. He let her fall to her knees. Grace couldn't see, even with the prominent flood light, what remained of her vision underneath the blindfold post orgasm clarity, was a prism of angled lights writhing in the dark.

She heard a thud behind her, heavy, dull. She felt herself rise, Fin's arms underneath her, until he shoved her onto the cinder block scraping against her rear, he wrenched her legs to the side, her waist aching, and bent her over the cinderblock, presenting her slim rear up in the air. Fin's hand moved to her throat from behind, his grasp tightened, she heard the scattered sound of a bottle, the echo of empty glass unmistakable.

She than felt it, the lip of the beer bottle slowly pressing against her cunt, threatening in it's eventual excess width. She shook her head, trying to spit out the safe word as the panties rolled inside her mouth. He leaned forward, pressing her down, pushing the breath out of her chest, and choked her with his hand, silencing any protest. She felt the ache of the cinderblock she sat on, the angular edge pressed into her stomach, as the bottle that Fin achingly, slowly inserted into her swollen cunt. Her lip quivered, she thrashed and writhed, worrying it would crack.

Her pussy burned, ached, the bottle's girth inside her, past it's neck, she cried out as he slid the swell of the bottle further. He spit on his cock, rubbed it down to his hilt, and pressed it against her puckered hole, and didn't heed any resistance her body could muster, he grabbed her bound wrists for leverage, and pushed his cock down to his base, relentless, controlling as he immediately began thrusting inside, the bottle dangling precariously as her eyes bulged and she screamed, she was his choir of pain.

She could smell her blood, the festering mold of the room, a suffocating aroma of ammonia as she found pleasure, coursing, her temples aching, her body fall limp, resistance quelled as she dissociated, beneath the blindfold her eyes rolled back, and from her arm, she felt the knife drag it's point across her shoulder, a hasty slice with a trickle of blood, moving it to her throat, blade flat and firm between his grasp, the rope being her only guard, her only protection as she felt the corded rope part, slowly, as the knife's edge turned inwards, sawing, serrations catching on the binding until he paused, and the edge ceased, as she felt herself angled down off the cinderblock, bent over, thighs kicking pointlessly as her skirt barely concealed her violation, bottle scraping against the block with a hollow roughness as Fin throttled her, her body betrayed her, she moaned through the panties drenched in her mouth as thick strands of drool spilled past her lips, dripping to the floor, melding with grit and dirt.

A cracking sound shot through the room, her mouth fell aghast as the bottle cracked, but didn't break. She stilled every muscle, sinew, held her breath as Fin extracted the bottle from her ruined and gaped hole. He pushed her over the cinderblock, face up, as he mounted her chest, ripping her panties out of her mouth, and pushing his cock past her lips, she tasted her own sweat, her own membrane, as he drove her head flat, against the uneven ground, grasping at her pigtails as she gagged and sputtered, her back aching, her shoulder blades pinched as he facefucked her. He felt her braces slip against his cockhead as he thrust into her cheek, he yanked her head forwards, now in her throat, he could feel her legs buck, her waist turn in desperation, along with a growing fury inside her, of lust, rapture, and wanton release. He pulled out and stood, letting her head fall back, he crouched below her, he took the knife and dragged it softly down the front of her cheerleading uniform.

He cut down her skirt, parting the fabric with ease, he circled back up, reverse grip, cutting past her navel, to where the rope ended, a trickle of blood ran down, across her tan skin, down her dirtied pelvis and scuffed thighs. He dragged the flat of the blade down across her thigh as she shuddered, and moaned, she spoke.

"Fin, please Sophia, Sophia." She repeated the safe word endlessly.

He looked at her.

"Shhh. You're not Sophia. I love you differently Grace. You look so beautiful."

He held a broken piece of glass up so she could see herself reflected, a fragmented, deranged vision of whatever laid inside Fin's mind, whatever broken manifestation inside him, was put onto her. He threw the shard away and stood her up, he laid down and forced her down on top of his cock, her wrists burned behind her back, he ushered her down on his length as she winced, he ripped what remained of her skit away, his hands dug into her waist, the faintest trail of her knicked chest leaving a small bloody trail down to her clit. He rubbed it, and held her and pushed her down atop him, kissing her passionately, surprised, delighted to feel her return his kisses with the same exuberance, her hips slamming against his waist, as her tennis shoes blackened in soot dug deep besides his thighs.

She felt him each of her thrusts, their union, she could feel his artful cock, press deep in her, he returned her movements, each one vital, as his leather clad hand ran down her thighs, she moaned loudly, her body in trance. He grabbed her face and kissed her deeply, licking the side of her face and biting her neck, deep, hard, drawing blood and bruising, finally from under her breath, with him deep inside her, cockhead locked against her cervix, her pressure mounting she sighed and groaned, words failing her as she shuddered violently. Her climax burned through her, her stomach sunk, her breathing caught as if being in an exorcism, Fin filled her cunt among the filth and the dark, flooding her with cum, her only thought being if her soul could bare the guilt, if she would conceive here. Her faith, her consciousness could not permit such an idea, no matter how good it felt. No matter what she wanted, no matter how much it pained her, to love someone like Fin, what she now knew about him, about herself, could never be undone. He tortured everything around him, and wore a mask that said otherwise.

He slipped his hand inside her and brought part of his cum to her lips, shoving his fingers inside, moving a hand to grasp her throat, making her unable to swallow the burdensome, syrupy load, he squeezed as she coughed his cum up. Fin whispered as his cock softened outside her beaten cunt.

"Shh, it's ok. I'm here."

She thrashed as she tried to spit up his seed, bubbling over her lips in a crude foam, clinging to her braces, choking as it slid back down her throat, eventually poured from her nose with snot and spit, turning her face into a greasy smear, a canvas of suffering as she spit some of it back on his cheek.

Fin stood above her, studying his work, his love. He removed her blindfold, and restraints, streaks of light permeated her vision that soon burned into the consuming night as she adjusted. He stood her upright and held her deeply, with love, his heart beating against her chest, fingers ran through her hair. She didn't even remember the ride back. She remembered the screaming and his insistence that it was fine, while she told him it was over. She remembered leaving that night, after her horror at what she felt, how her soul, her body, her womb, betrayed her, Fin betrayed her. She left her engagement ring with a note that was not eloquent, nor caring, only abrupt.

"I can't do this. Get help. Please."

He never saw her again, neither did anyone else.

***

Sophia woke early, exhausted, Austin perched above her head, her eyes itched. She offered her hand to scratch his chin. She swung her legs out of bed, the same razor scars sat at the top of her thighs, as she adjusted her panties, failing to hide them. She traced her fingers down the scars lovingly as her phone vibrated, she held it, the text was from Fin.

"Hey Sophia. I figured we could continue our conversation from the other day. Put it all to rest. Why don't you come in an hour early? I'll pay, don't worry."

She looked at Jake, still asleep, a smile on his face, mumbling, and chuckling. She wondered what he was dreaming about, she hoped he could stay that proud, that happy inside forever. She texted Fin back.

"Ok."

***

Last Exit was quiet, the poorly built slats across the windows had a chipped lacquer, the scent of age and mold, every wall, stool and booth full of carvings, graffiti or stickers. Fin liked that it always changed, patrons left their marks, mementos, the bar an exhibition of memory.

Fin saw the front door open, Sophia walked in, dressed for work. He spoke softly.

"Good to see you."

She was nervous, her mind occupied with anxiety. She sat up on the stool next to Fin at the bar top, embarrassed at how her high waisted jeans clutched at her stomach. She tried to sit up straight, sucking in, feeling a lingering embarrassment about her body.

He was calm, all in black, with a razor tapered fade. He ran his hand across his fuzzy scalp and spoke.

"Want a drink?"

Sophia stared at him, paralyzed, synapses slowed. He looked at her, softly placing his hand on top of hers, across her wedding band.

"You ok?"

The sensation made her jump as she ripped her hand back. His hand was cold.

"I'm fine, really, I umm just kind of zoned out."

"Just wanted to make sure."

She cleared her throat, unable to meet his eyes fully. She decided she would ease into the quiet things left unsaid, all that was left unheard to all, except herself. She spoke.

"I didn't know your dad was Gerald, he's sweet, I umm, I wouldn't have anything, Jake, my job, nothing without him."

"Yeah, he's a good man. Always has been, even after my mom passed."

"Oh my god I'm so sorry, I didn't..."

"It's ok. She passed away around a year after we graduated. I was nineteen, it was the first time me and her really, truly connected. It was special. It was maybe eight months after, she took her own life. None of us saw it coming. I always leave two flowers by her grave. My dad never said he would never remarry, he's held true to his word, for her memory."

She wiped a tear away from her eye. Her voice was meek, holding back true regret, to the burden of pain she built within him.

"That's so sad I never knew that, he never told us..."

"He's very private. But we don't have to talk about that."

Fin studied her face, close, he crossed his legs as he felt his cock twitch. He spoke.

"You haven't changed much."

"Thanks, uhh, I don't know about that."

She tried to pull her denim jacket close around her, to hide her softness. She spoke, eyes darting away.

"You changed a lot."

"We all change."

She felt it was a pointed reminder of how much she changed, into a saint of failure, her voice distant.

"So what did you do after high school?

"After my mom passed, I joined the Marine Corps. Did five years. Made it to MARSOC. Sorry, acronyms, you get used to it. Marine Raider Regiment, foreign security training. Spinal injury took me out."

She noticed the, tattoo on his right bicep, accented below his tight sleeve, a skull inside a diamond with five stars around in it, colored completely in obsidian black. Her voice was timid.

"Thanks for your service."

"I actually don't like when people say that, but I understand your sentiment."

"Umm I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's fine. After I got done I started college online, majoring in business and moved back. You?"

"Funny, I got a bachelors in business as well."

Fin observed her wedding ring, a simple band, as easy to make, as it was to break.

"So how long have you been married?"

"A year."

"Jake is a good man. Excellent bartender."

"Yeah, he's the first man I met in years that was actually umm, really kind to me."

"His reputation is earned. I'm glad you're together. You both deserve to be happy."

She looked in his eyes, his kind expression was devastating to her, she wiped her eye.

"I'm gonna cry again."

Fin smiled and laughed, his hand lightly rested on hers again for a second too long before he tapped it softly pulling it back, speaking as he inched slightly closer, enough to smell her perfume, sweet Bergamont.

"We can't have that, I don't have a handkerchief on me today. I really am glad you're happy. And married."

"Umm, well, thank you. Are you seeing someone?"

"No. I was engaged a year ago, things didn't work out."

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

"That's the way things go. Even when you're sure of love, proud in a relationship, something or someone, comes along and shatters all your plans."

"Yeah, I can relate, ummm I can relate to that a lot."

"Sad thing is, we all can."

She felt a lump in her throat, having to make a concentrated effort to force it down, as if swallowing ash and loam. She spoke softly.

"I think you're very kind, like your dad, and we're lucky to have you here."

"Thanks. Before we... progress into heavier matters, what about you?"

"Umm, what about me?"

"What did you do? I mean after high school, in and after college. I never expected you to come back. I always thought you were meant for so much more."

She felt like she was going to vomit, she couldn't tell him all the horrible things she did, the amount of men she let cum in her, the pills, the breakdowns, the loss of self. She thought of a plausible half truth.

"I just moved back. Umm. Yeah. I had a lot of health problems that came up and I needed to be home."

"Makes sense. Tell me about you now."

His charitable demeanor was unbearable, she to grab him by the throat, to let him hurt her, like she hurt him, she loathed his calmness, and she wondered why his forgiveness didn't feel good at all. She held her brow, speaking away from him.

"There's not a lot to tell. Jake and I love camping, it's relaxing, we go a lot. It's free so that's nice."

He observed, crossing his arms, shoulders pulled back, broad and full. She tried to find a way to keep speaking, she didn't know how to say she was happy watching TV with Jake, she didn't want for much. Fin broke the silence.

"Relaxation is important, keeps you mindful and present."

She heard similar language from dozens of therapists, friends, even Jake in his own way. She disagreed vehemently, the past informed the present, every feeling and every failure.

She breathed in deep, and spoke, mirthless and cold, determined to finish what she started nights ago.

"Why don't you hate me?"

"I did. I hated you. But I liked you all those years ago."

"That doesn't make sense."

"Remember when I asked you out? Freshman year. I bought a rose, I wrote that poem, I thought you were the most beautiful person I'd ever seen. Your smile alone made me happy, when I heard your laugh it warmed my heart."

"So you thought I was... pretty? I was so ugly on the inside."

"Of course I thought you were pretty, no offense to you, or Jake. Don't misconstrue."

He smiled as his eyes roamed down her, she felt an immediate discomfort she couldn't place. Fin spoke.

"No, I saw the way your friends adored you, the teachers adored you, the clergy adored you, you were the center of so many's worlds. You were worshiped. I wanted to be part of that center too."

"I was a fraud. It was all fake, I was a bully. And worse, others admired it."

"I wanted to be just like you."

Her eyes widened.

"I don't... I don't understand."

"You had power. Influence. If I had the same, I could have been with you."

She began crying, burying her face in her palms. She spoke betweenwiping her nose with the hem of her jacket.

"How could you even say that? I was inhuman!"

"Bullies aren't born Sophia. They're made. Just like monsters, they're made. We all start innocent, our lives shape us. I can forgive you because something happened to you, to make you what you were."

She rested her forehead against the table and continued crying softly. Fin stood and gently rubbed her back until she flinched, when his hand moved lower, close to her waist, he stepped back, grabbing a box of tissues from the office and brought them to her. She looked up at him after calming down, soft in her speech.

"So what did I make you?"

"A better person. Motivated."

"I didn't make you into a monster, so why do I get a pass?"

"Because, in belief, there is conviction. Again, the crosses on our neck."

"I don't understand."

"There's nothing to understand. I wanted what you had, I wanted to be like you, so you'd want to be with me. But I couldn't. I got over it. You have a good heart now. See? You have changed. Now, we can change again, we can both let go."

She decided in that moment, regardless of how distant his eyes were, he was right. She had changed. She smiled genuinely, hugged him, felt his hands around her shoulders, too possessive, she pulled back, feeling a discomfort, his touch too close. She left with a nod of her head and a weak smile, he waved goodbye to her. As soon as she walked outside to smoke, the same weight of guilt arrived, and she cradled her head as she smoked underneath a cloudless sky, humidity making damp her entire person. Hell felt closer than she thought.

***

The next day, Sophia laid in bed, stuck, deprived of energy, or thought. That evening, Jake stood in the kitchen, singing ballads poorly, purposefully missing every key, nodding at Sophia as she lifted her head with a weak smile. Jake carefully placed the worn dish into the rack, it wasn't much but life had taught him that everything needed to be saved, cherished, no matter it's apparent value.

Jake dried his hands headed to the doorway, leaned against it and spoke.

"Babygirl you got them sleep shorts on I like. You look so damn beautiful."

Sophia blushed.

"Stop, come on I don't like it when you say that. I don't want be, perceived umm... like that."

"I just say it cuz I think you're gorgeous. But ya also got the kindest heart I know. Want me to sing you a song? I think I'm bout' as good as Frank Ocean."

He cleared his throat and she threw a pillow at him, he swatted it away, both of them laughing. Jake checked his watch.

"Time for ya to get going babygirl. I'll walk you to work."

"I don't think I can."

"Ain't you feeling good?"

"No, umm, my nerves are too high, I feel really stressed out."

"Cuz of Fin?"

"Yeah."

"I gotcha. Ain't easy to deal with that. But he been kind, to me, to you. But, ya got history, and I know it weighs you down. Y'all talked it through?"

"Yeah, we did. He always prioritizes my shift, he's given me the wrong amount of tips, like way higher than what it should be. And I don't even think Ashlee knows, and I don't know if I should tell her. And he's so considerate, it makes me feel, like even more of a monster"

She didn't want to explain to him that whatever Fin was doing, felt intentional, it was justifying the hatred she felt for herself, and she had fallen enamored with it. Jake spoke.

"I gotcha. Well, I'll cover your shift. We need the money if we gon' survive girl."

Jake walked over and kissed her on the forehead, scooped up Austin and tousled the cat's hair. He held the red cat above his face, noticing it's crossed eyes.

"Damn you a weird ass thing, but you cute, so we keep ya."

Austin meowed as Jake set her down near Sophia, grabbed his flannel and left.

Jake always took the same route to Last Exit, it wasn't grueling, mostly flat, hugging the road that spilled out under an overpass in the distance, he watched a truck pas with only a singular headlight, a dismal cyclopean beam that clutched through the dark.

Two miles there, two miles back. He would whistle, sometimes text his brother Issac, who seldom texted back, or spoke more than a word to Jake on the phone. Jake didn't blame him, after what he had done. Still, he persevered in the gloom, the familiar broken neon sign of Last Exit flickering in the dark.

Jake stepped through the back entrance and saw Fin turn around after setting down a spent keg. Fin dusted his hands and extended his hand out.

"Jake! Didn't expect to you see buddy."

Jake took his hand, always startled by how someone who looked so small, could have such a strong grasp. Jake whistled and looked over Fin's shoulders, speaking as he scanned the regulars.

"Yeah, Sophia, she ain't feelin' good. I told her I'd take her shift."

Fin's eyes widened, he held his hand against his chest, a studied expression of concern across his face as he spoke.

"Is she sick? Can I help? If you guys need-"

Jake held his hand and clapped him on the shoulder.

"She just ain't herself, too tired. It's all good. I'm flying solo?"

"Yes sir. Seriously though, let me know ok?"

Jake nodded and grabbed his towel, same one he always used, faded with a menagerie of stains. He let Ashlee saunter past him, cowboy boots thudding, chestnut brown ponytail swaying, hips pronounced, enchanting as always, but fast fading to hard living. She tapped him on the shoulder and whispered.

"Ya know Eli's gonna come by tonight, so I'm glad you takin' over cuz you know that shithead gon' do the same fucking thing he always does."

Jake nodded.

"Thank ya. Forgot to set my clock for em'. Aint nothing if not punctual."

Ashlee giggled and walked past him cigarette already lit.

The bar was quiet, only a few regulars coming in, Jake put on the game, if it wasn't the Magic, he didn't care who was playing. But the squeaks, buzzers and clutch daggers shot from pockets, made him feel nostalgic for a youth passed, the freedom of the court, the smile of his brother, all those long nights they played outside till mosquitoes clamored around them, jostled and bit, and with itching red welts they would still play, pass, dunk, it was a bond that felt eternal. Moonlight that carved down the pavement, their feet bare as they passed, laughed, and dreamed. He wondered if his brother felt the same anymore.

The door creaked open, Jake always winced at the piercing sound. A short young woman with long red curly hair, dainty and freckled walked in, straight to the bar, wearing an oversized, boxy hoodie as a dress, that made her look comically smaller with pristine all white sneakers.

She sat at the bar, fingers clacking at her phone rapidly, each extraneously long, pointed neon pink acrylic nail typing out a flurry of texts. Her head bowed, silent. Jake finally leaned towards her.

"Mam?"

The young woman looked up. She set her phone down. Her voice was babyish and high pitched, a purposeful affect Jake thought.

"Oh. My. God. Of course I would love a drink! That would be like, sooo great. Do you do cocktails?"

Jake crossed his arms.

"Yes mam. Ain't nothing too fancy, but, I gotta see your ID."

The young red head's pale face scrunched up.

"Fine. Like, I mean come on. What? I don't look over twenty one? What a stupid fucking rule anyways."

Jake took her ID, held it up against the dim light, and towards her face. He scrupulously examined the license, tested the laminate, looked at the holograph, all checked out. He looked at her name "Mia Greene" from Tampa. He handed it back to her and spoke.

"Naw, I'm gon' be honest, you don't look that old mam."

"Then don't like call me mam, I'm not an old lady."

"I can see that, just being polite."

"Ok, sorry I'm on edge, because like, I did a bump before I came in, and oh, hold on."

Mia began texting furiously. Her focused face, revealed some degree of genuine concern for whoever she was texting with. Jake saw a slew of regulars, some heartbroken, some happy, some angry, some broken. He saw Mia was lost, profoundly so. That's the only reason an outsider like her ends up at Last Exit.

Mia set her phone down as it buzzed, Jake saw her background, an image of a ballerina, text messages coming in from "Alicia" over and over. She locked her phone and put it back in her hoodie.

"Sorry sorry sorry, like I said, I need like a bit of a downer, like balance, you do gin and tonics?"

"Yes mam."

"That's my mom's favorite drink.".

"Well, ma has good taste. Single or double?"

"Double."

She giggled, coquettish, annoying Jake. He made the cocktail, he was no artisan but he cared. He handed it to her with a lime. She clapped her hands rapidly and smiled wide, her freckled face resembling a doll.

"Yay! Oh finally."

To Jake's own surprise she savored it, and spoke.

"Oh my gosh it's sooooooo good. Thank you!" Her gleeful tone now endearing.

"So, Mia. What brings ya round here?"

"Well, my mom and I are moving to the greatest fucking city of all time, NEW YORK CITY!"

She threw her hands up and rapidly tapped her feet on the barstool. She pointed to the TV.

"Where the Knicks play!"

Jake crossed his arms and smirked, inside his head, he thought "Fuck the Knicks", making himself chuckle before he spoke.

"Well damn, why ain't y'all there? Gotta pack?"

"Nope nope nope. Nothing. Just us."

"Shit, so you gon pick her up? Just zoom right up?"

"No, she's back home. In Tampa. I just wanted to like, kind of drive around a bit. Just see what was here."

"Ain't much, sorry to disappoint."

"Doesn't matter. I just wanted to see."

Jake wiped down the bar top, speaking softly.

"I ain't even been nowhere north of the Mason Dixon."

"I can't like believe I'm saying this. I haven't either."

Mia looked down, hesitant, nerves evident. Jake spoke as he threw the towel over his shoulder.

"Well, if your ma be with you, you ain't got nothing to be afraid of. Gotta be brave if nothing else."

Mia nodded and spoke.

"We're both afraid, I think. We both made these horrible mistakes and, well I think we're just like, trying to figure it out."

Jake nodded, he was always fond of the impartiality of being a bartender, where given enough time, would be an ad-hoc therapist to the conflicted. He spoke.

"It's ok. We all make mistakes."

"Not these kind."

"Well, nothing gets too bad ya can't fix it. Or at least try. Don't need to know where you come from or what y'all did, but we all the same, got our crosses to bear."

Mia giggled as she took another sip.

"You're really sweet."

She looked at his ring.

"Married?"

"Yes mam, sorry, yes. Just about two years now."

Mia nodded slowly. She bit the bottom of her pink lips, freckled cheeks already reddened from the cocktail. She exhaled and her shoulders slumped toward.

"I was pretty sure my last boyfriend was going to propose to me. I fucked it up. Like big time."

"Well, maybe it wasn't meant to be."

"No, no. It was like, all my fault. I really did fuck up."

"Don't know, can't miss what you never knew. And when you miss it, it ain't coming back. But if you could go back and change it, would you?"

She paused.

"I don't know."

"I don't think any of us do, we all say we would, but shit I ain't got the courage to change the things I done, I know where I stand. I live with it now."

Mia's frown turned to a subtle smile.

"Could you make me another?"

"Sure."

Her phone rattled again, Jake stole a glance, "Alicia". He spoke.

"That yer ma?"

"Yeah. Hold on."

She furiously clacked away, a steady cadence that fell between the pitched squeaks of sneakers court side from the game.

"Yeah that's my mom, I mean, well..."

"Stepmom?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"I ain't gon pry, family ain't always blood."

She nodded, surprised to hear someone not call such a relationship into question.

As Jake turned to start making another as the door was flung open, Eli. barged in, tripping over a baseboard that wasn't fully flush, to the amusement of all. He sat down at the bar, right next to Mia, as Jake slid a beer over to him.

Eli licked his lips, looking Mia up and down, greedily undressing every inch of her, her milky skin. It was her emerald eyes, he liked the most. He spoke to Jake.

"Whatever tab dis little girl got, put it out on mine, ya got it?"

Jake nodded, losing count of how many times this had played out. Eli inched closer to Mia.

"Damn ya came to the right place."

Mia looked him up and down.

"Oh yeah? Like, Why's that?"

"Lemme tell girl, ya a beauty, got that red hair, love that, ain't no fat on you, except in that ass girl. You a snowbunny in training. I know ya type."

Mia offered a blunt retort.

"Snowbunny? You look like the side of a fucking shed bro. Come the fuck on."

Eli's eyes narrowed.

"Fuck you mean bitch? I ain't even done nothing baby."

"I'm not your baby."

Mia winked and licked her lips teasingly. Jake crossed his arms and shook his head, speaking sternly.

"Eli. How many fuckin' times we gotta go through this?"

Eli scoffed.

"Fuck yaself. She ain't work here. Do she? Nah? What I thought."

Mia sipped her drink and spoke to Jake, completely ignoring Eli.

"Is there anywhere like good to eat around here? For breakfast?"

Jake chuckled.

"Waffle House. Bout all we got."

Eli shook his head, placing his face in front of Mia.

"Ayy ya deaf? I was talkin' to ya. Why don't you come to my place tonight, I show ya a real good time."

Mia turned her head towards him.

"Oh? A real good time? Oh my gosh, well I don't know mister, I'm just a shy wittle gwirl."

She curled her hair around her fingertip, and pouted, batting her eyelashes before rolling her eyes and flipping him off, in the singular most mocking gesture Jake had ever seen from a woman towards Eli in a long while. Eli grimaced and growled.

"Ya a snooty bitch, how bout we skip dis shit and you suck my cock out back."

Mia laughed, slapping her hand against the bar counter.

"Wow. You're like, a fucking artist with those lines."

"You see what I'm packing, ya would change ya tune real quick."

"Oh? I bet it's sooooo big. Too bad it's attached to a fucking gross old man with a fake eye. Don't worry, I'm sure your palm will keep you company. Thanks for the drinks, loser, this snow bunny is bored with you."

Eli stared in disbelief. Mia stood and smiled at Jake, speaking softly.

"Thanks. You're a good listener. Made like a totally valid point, can't go back, probably wouldn't choose to. I'm gonna tell my Mom that."

Jake nodded.

"Take care."

Mia left, jittery, nervous from her own retort against Eli, but feeling powerful. She made an exaggerated heart sign towards Jake with her hands across her chest, winking, as she backpedaled out of the dilapidated bar, leaving into the night.

Eli shook his head, slamming his fist against the bar top, quieting patrons nearby with the echo of his rage. Jake crossed his arms and spoke.

"Eli, just try to be nice for once."

"Go fuck ya self. She wanted me."

"She didn't want shit."

"Ya being a bitch, ain't making no moves on that pussy. Shit man you married to a-"

Jake cut him off.

"Say one more word. Say it. And I'mma make you meet yo' fucking teeth."

Eli knew it wasn't just a threat, he knew Jake was more than capable. He would make good on his actions, wouldn't have been the first time. Eli sat, silent the rest of the night, the last customer to leave.

As the bar fell silent, Jake and Ashlee cleaned up, Fin started closing. Fin spoke to Jake.

"Hey Jake, where are you and Sophia at?"

"Oh we up the road. Northways. Bout two miles."

"Hey that's on my way back, supposed to storm tonight. Why don't I give you a ride back man?"

"Nah, all good I walked through worse."

"Seriously. It's not a big deal."

"I dunno, don't wanna feel like no charity case."

"It's not a big deal man. Seriously. You'd do the same for me right?"

"Ya twist my arm, ok ok. I'll take you up."

Jake and Fin finished as Ashlee left, boots echoing, with a warm smile aimed fondly at Jake as she left. Fin spoke.

"You guys got history?"

"Long time ago. Yeah. She a good woman, but yeah, got messy. Me and my brother, Issac, it's a long story. But, I fucked up."

"I hear you. No need to tell. Sophia doesn't care?"

"Naw. They get along fine and Sophia knows I love her more than anyone, true as can be."

Fin drove Jake back to their apartment, the sky quaked, rain came down in sheets, a low rumble before lightning creased the sky, followed by another band of wrathful winds. Jake spoke.

"Shit man you weren't kidding."

Fin pulled into their apartment complex.

"Hey man you ever need a ride just call ok?"

Jake smiled and shook his hand.

"Thanks man. Ya drive safe now ok?"

Fin nodded, Jake entered their apartment and Sophia embraced him, Fin watched as their door closed.

He drove off, soon circled back, headlights off, pulling behind the apartment complex, he knew where they were. He looked up at their open window, himself a phantasm, a prophet of what was to come. He watched Sophia and Jake kiss passionately.

Fin watched, memorizing the shadows of their room, of Sophia, wondering what she smells like, what she tastes like, how much pain she could endure, how badly he wished nothing more than to bring them closer. Their silhouettes ceased, as their apartment grew dark, he imagined his gloved hands tightening around her neck as she offered all of herself, an altar for him to purify. He smiled.