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Last Exit Ch. 04

Hello everyone, welcome to the final chapter of Last Exit. Thank you to everyone who stuck around for this ride, I know it's been a particularly brutal and dark one. Don't worry though, it can always get darker. As always, please pay attention to the content tags, and category placement.

Before continuing I would like to thank Logan, Katie, and Kayla for their unwavering friendship and support. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Thank you to all my contemporaries who have supported me. Tenehua_Xochipoca, eddie_wilder, Antarctica77, lovecraft68, PrivateFirstClass, ScottGreen, Jordan45, Jackal54641, and so many more. And above all, a heartfelt thanks to any readers for supporting my work. It means so much to me.

Enjoy!

Last Exit- Ch 4

Fin felt a contentment that he couldn't have ever imagined. He crouched, studying Sophia's face, her eyes downcast, he tilted her chin to face him. He braced his forehead against hers, and leaned in, his face becoming a mirage as he occupied all her sight. With two fingers he delicately smeared his own cum off her cheeks and what remained of it across her reddened and bruised lips.

She opened her mouth instinctively, giving him further permission to degrade and defile, as he scooped the rest of his release into her mouth, dragging it across her tongue with a slender motion, his fingertips sensually tracing her tongue stud. She closed her mouth swallowing the vile substance, suppressing a choking cough. He tore off his own cross necklace and threw it aside, the thin gold chain pulling apart with ease, links snapping, as it scattered to the corner. Austin quickly moved to play with the now broken tether of the past, a symbol that now meant as much as the floor itself now, worn and seldom studied.Last Exit Ch. 04 фото

Fin took off his belt slowly and bound her ankles with it, pulling the belt tight enough to cut off circulation. He shoved the remnants of her shirt inside her mouth, each piece teasing her throat, a pointless endeavor, Sophia wouldn't have bothered to scream at this point, she knew it, felt it. He stood and left, closing the door behind him. Sophia flailed and wrenched her shoulders, trying to pull her wrists free, the zip tie only cutting in deeper as she pulled against her bindings. She didn't know why she tried, she had already resigned her body to him. As she settled on her side, she saw on the shelf the picture of her and Jake, the only one they had, and her head fall deep in shame. There were no tears left for her to cry, all were spent.

As Fin returned to his car, he had all he needed to make her his, fully. To turn her into a prize, to capture her as he wanted, as he had always seen her. He looked at his box, felt it's heft, the tools inside jostled slightly. He looked back to the apartment, anticipating her to have escaped her bindings, to have attempted to run. As minutes passed, he grinned, she already knew to heel, how to express her fealty to him. He set the box down on the passenger seat. He breathed in the night's air, wondering when Jake would arrive. He thought about meeting him here, waiting. Thinking about he would express the beauty he had found inside their home, how he would savor Sophia's flesh.

Yet, Fin knew that she was already waiting for him. She craved something else, she craved pain, suffering. He took the dress and started heading back. He would deny her, all the pain she wanted, and would burden her womb with the truest reminder of pain, now and forever, greater than any piece of metal, rope, or flame could yield.

Sophia looked as the door opened, hoping it would be Jake. Instead, Fin locked the door behind him,

carrying a pale yellow dress, perfectly draped over his arm. He laid it in front of Sophia, with complete reverence, as if it was a sacred relic. Close enough to study the dress, Sophia saw it was vintage, with delicate patterns of white peonies, faded gold orchids and floral spirals and leaves, a modest scooped neckline, with capped sleeves, the skirt knee length, with scalloped trim around it, the waist cinched to a perfect hourglass. It was kept in pristine condition, not a single blemish, rip, or stain. It was an artifact that belonged to someone else, and gave Sophia pause as to its origin.

He forced her to stand, cutting the zip tie off around her wrist that dug deep into reddened channels of skin, and removed the belt from her ankles. He delicately took out the spit soaked scraps of her shirt from her mouth, anticipating her to react, to charge him, to offer any resistance. She didn't. Instead she was unable to look at him, it was the same as all the other men before. She could never look them in the eyes, except when they made her, like he did now.

"Put it on." Fin said, his voice nothing but static in her ears. Sophia didn't see any other way out, if she complied or if she fought, the outcome was the same. She felt every bit of herself slipping away, the past convalescing with the present again. She reached down and held the dress up, inspecting it closer. There was no tag, completely custom, no indicator of it's origin or ownership, except at the back of the neck line, there was an embroidered "G" sewn perfectly, with a singular dark red stain on it, like that of wine, or rust. She could feel the softness of the fabric, bespoke, made for a woman that wasn't her, but close in size and stature.

Knife still in hand, he watched her undress fully, she tried to stand tall, to own her body, she couldn't. She flinched and held arm across her bosom, taking off her bike shorts, standing in her plain white panties, she slipped the dress over her head. She fashioned it down, smoothing it out, every contour, was flawless, like it was made for her. Fin wrapped his hand around her back and forced her fully upright, pushing her chest out. He whispered in her ear.

"You look so beautiful."

He unscrewed the ball closure from her septum ring, and slipped it out. He grasped her hair firmly atop her head, lining up the dyed green ends at the end of his fist and sliced cleanly through them, letting the clump fall to the floor as her hair now sat below her ears in a frayed bob.

Fin ran the backside of his hand down her cheek, his hand traveling down to her waist as he kissed her forehead. She prepared herself, for what would come next. A part of her craved it, the release. His voice was soft, almost serene.

"This is what trust is. What love is."

He flipped the blade and wrapped her fingers around the knife handle. He helped her guide the tip against his windpipe.

"All you have to do is push. Go ahead. Don't be scared."

She couldn't. She couldn't press an inch, as much as she wanted to, she wanted to scream and drive it through his neck, to stab and slice and rend until there was nothing left. Instead, her hand quivered. He raised her other hand to the back of the handle, forcing her palm flat against it. The tip now pierced his neck slightly, releasing a thin trail of blood, that ran against the edge of the blade.

"Go on."

She shook her head, gripped tighter, and as she prepared to lean forward carrying the blade into him, she halted. She let go, the blade fell from her hand, landing point first against the floor. He hugged her, tightly, his hands slowly rubbing her back.

"You see? Trust. Love."

He broke their embrace and retrieved his knife, sheathing it in his waistband. Her hands clasped in front of her, grinding her teeth in need, in anticipation, almost considering begging him to take what he had came for, what he had wanted from her like so many, for so long. He rubbed his hand across her hips, each of his fingers hungrily trailing across the fabric, pulling, kneading. He kissed her neck, and took her hand, she offered no resistance as he lead her to the room she had made with Jake. Their room, now ruined by his presence, with his every breath. A single lamp was on in the corner, it's bulb dull, the carpet below them damp and old.

Fin disrobed. He neatly folded all of his clothes, placing them beside his boots. For the first time Sophia saw him without the familiar uniform he had made for himself. She saw his pale naked body, with long rows of thin scars across his chest. Near his abdomen, there was a scattering of pockmarks, down his chest and shoulder, jagged and random wounds that healed improperly, some ridged and twisted, some resembled chemical burns where the flesh was sunken in. His lean, sinewy form came to her, without hesitation, proud to show her himself as he truly was, she could see his smile in the light as she desperately tried to look away.

His hand reached down and lifted her dress, slow, deliberate, his fingers trailing up her thighs, her softness felt below was felt by his hand as it ran further up, across the boundaries of her panties, under the snug waist of her dress, gently touching her curvy stomach. He kissed her neck, and nuzzled against it. His hand kept itself across her stomach, seeking to claim something inside her, his other cradling her back. He whispered into her ear, nibbling her lobe, feeling her thighs close slowly around his wrist, unsure if she was inviting him more, or feebly trying to stop him. His lips against her ear, his voice painfully vulnerable. "Kiss me."

Reluctantly, she turned her head, her plump lips meeting his, his tongue swept across hers, as they danced around one another. His hands kept fast to her waist, pushing himself against her. When they parted, he licked down her neck, and lightly bit at her collar, his teeth pressing down harder, bruising, as he did she raised her hands to his shoulders. She drew him towards her, wanting it all to end.

He pressed his chest against hers, pulling her tighter, his hand traveling up between their bodies, grasping at the top of her dress and pulling it down slowly, feeling her heavy bust fall forth, pushing and folding against his cool skin. He bowed his head and held her close, reading her eyes, her discomfort growing, as she realized no allotment of herself she could offer, would ever be enough.

He lowered his head again, kissing the center of her throat, teeth grazing, soon biting softly, dragging them like razors, across her pale flesh. She yelped as his hands clutched at her waist. He licked down her chest, her hands grasped the back of his head, gritty stubble that scratched with the passing of her palms. His tongue fluttered down between her valley of cleavage, and across her pink nipples, opening his mouth wide and biting down. She bit her lip and cried out, his jaw tightening, drawing blood and bruising, his hand jolting up from her waist to her neck as he began squeezing.

He rose his head, standing up tall, both his hands wrapped tightly around her throat, an inch away, so that his face was barely perceptible as her vision crossed, himself now a mirage. She had known this feeling. She had prayed for it. Longed for it. Needed it. She could close her eyes now. Slowly, her eyes shut, she let her body grow limp, she didn't fight, couldn't. She was ready to embrace the end.

She anticipated it. Pain. There was a burning across her scalp, a warmth in her stomach, that spread like tendrils of electricity, all waiting for him to finish what she had started so long ago. She closed her eyes and waited for his hands, rope, a blade, anything. There was nothing.

He stopped.

She felt her self free, air returning to her lungs, her eyes open. He looked at her. Not just a glance, it was fixation, without coldness, without enmity. She saw his hands at his side, not in fists, just open, shaking slightly, as if he himself didn't know why he had ceased. He sat on the bed, he ran his hand across the old sheet, up the side where she slept, where she had been with Jake hundreds of times, where their bodies had drank deep of each other. "Come here." he said, voice below that of a whisper.

She walked over to the bed, the same familiar stretch of carpet below her. She sat, prim, upright next to him, all the energy that existed from before, had changed. The charge that was between them, of dominance and submission, of sadism and masochism, had died. He leaned back, and grasped her hand, holding it, bringing her back with him, as they stared at the ceiling. His grip was tight, but he didn't squeeze. They laid there, not like lovers, not like friends, just cadavers. He looked at her, seeing her blonde hair in a short halo splayed against the bed.

Her fingers slid past his. She looked at the ceiling fan, watching it slowly turn, the dust on it's edges falling with each askew turn, filthy motes that were lost in the dark fell towards them. Sophia didn't know what he wanted, why he had paused. He didn't face her when he spoke.

"Tell me. What you did."

She sat up, and looked at him still flat on his back, now soft. She closed her eyes and spoke.

"The dead animals in your locker... I did it. I.. I put the used condom in your parents mailbox. I took your inhaler. I wrote that fake suicide letter that everyone thought you wrote. I was the one that spread the rumor that your mother was sleeping with Father Sean. I was the one who spread the rumor about you being gay. I threw those spark plugs through your window. I was the one who-"

Sophia saw him sit upright. His hand moved with a furious intent, snaring the bottom of the dress up to her waist, and pushing her thighs apart. He ripped her panties down completely, his fingers found her slit, slick and moist.

"Look at me."

She turned her eyes away, struggling as his fingers withdrew from her. He licked them as his cock stiffened rapidly, Sophia felt her heart racing, he saw her chest shudder, as his hand crept back between her legs.

"You're like me. Just. Like. Me. You like hurting others."

His fingers interlaced with hers, as he tugged at her wedding ring, harder, as it threatened to slip past the precipice of her knuckle, she closed her fist. That's when she felt him enter her. Sophia's eyes glazed over, what color remained, drained completely from her face. She shook her head violently side to side, denying his claim, and after, felt his lips melt against hers as his hand braced her neck, and below her, he slid deep inside, bottoming out.. As he kissed her violently, biting hard, drawing blood from her bottom lip, she winced. His hand left her neck and pushed down across her waist smoothly, declaring that the entirety of hers was his, she couldn't deny the way her body spoke towards him, his intentions, his wants, all at the cost of her own.

She felt him press her down onto the bed further, his hands pulling the bottom of her dress beyond her waist, carefully. She felt his fingers, soft, caring run up along her calves, and under them, pushing her legs up, as he pumped between them. Her body responded truly, her heart, her mind, did not. Instead they retreated deep within her, offering herself, all of her as she did many times before to end the pain of others. For the first time, she heard Fin moan, it was quiet, as his cock pushed inside her again, her wetness welcoming, needy, evidence of her body's pleasure undeniable. She moaned softly. She shook her head as he thrust deep inside, her hands drifted, locking behind his neck. She hated it, yet, it was freedom, it was making everything wrong, right again, as she had always wanted to do.

His thrusts were gentle, he tilted her hips up, and held her, binding them in conception as she held her swollen breasts together, creating a crevasse of cleavage, spilling over her arm, as her other hand ran slick across her hood. Her words failed, her eyes spoke enough, an urge for him to continue, to push further, to give him what now, they both needed. Each other.

Fin watched, Sophia grasp her throat, her eyed widened and she let out a soft moan. So he ripped her hand away. She shook her head and pleaded with her body, pulling back. He pulled her tighter, buried himself in her, he used her to complete him, her other hand moved to grasp her scalp, needing pain, he knocked it away, she screamed between a moan, not of pleasure, but of frustration, of disappointment.

A blooming hum quickened in her head, a heat centered within her as her hips chased his rhythm, he was gentle, but deep, dragging his cock slowly back, before creating a steady cadence, the sounds of their flesh coupling filled the small room, a hiss escaped behind her teeth along with half an unheard prayer, another lustful whimper, as she felt bands of him erupt inside her, her pupils widening as he ruined her, owned her, she clamped down eagerly, his copious seed nourishing her ache, her hopes being she had given him something back. As the strands of his climax began to seep around his base, he pulled out slowly, as her legs stretched wide, allowed all that remained of him, to seep out onto the bed, blotting the sheets below them. Yet her body remained unfulfilled, she had controlled some part of her, to deny in guilt and out of fear the connection it would build with him, knowing it was too late.

Fin rolled off and laid next to her, caressing her face, his warmth close to her, in the space she shared with Jake, all their smiles, all their laughter, fights and tears, settled deep into her spirit as she rose her hand to her mouth. As her guilt of years passed, absconded with Fin's lust, her memories bled backwards, unsure, unstable, knowing in totality that what she just did was wrong, it was the death knell of the only true love she had ever been shown.

Yet, she looked at Fin, and saw something, driven by which now spilled out of her, between her legs, she saw a future, where something else grew. She screamed before Fin cupped her mouth shut, his hand grasping at her thigh, over her softness, pushing what remained back inside her, his fingers rubbing inside her, circling, as his thumb came over her hood. He stared at her, eyes narrowed, unyielding. They remained in that moment, wordless, save for a deep kiss, Fin's eyes open wide the whole time. He ran his fingers through her hair, tilting her waist up, pushing all that remained inside her.

She watched him stand, and begin dressing. He smiled towards her, knowing what he had done. She watched as he stood in the doorway, fully dressed, proud, looking at her with adoration. As she felt chills run down her skin, she spoke softly.

"I don't love you. I want you to know."

Fin's eyes widened. He remained silent.

Sophia sat up on the bed, holding her stomach, her arms wrapped tightly, the salty taste of new tears alert on her tongue as they trickled down. Fin stood, in the corner now, close enough to dissuade her from leaving, admiring her, always close, always observing.

"Soon he'll be here. I can't wait to tell him."

Sophia shook her head side to side, silence her only companion. They waited.

***

The parking lot was always the same. Cars remained that Jake had come to know too well, most parked in self designated spots. As he walked, he slowed, a black car stood out. It was Fin's. He couldn't be mistaken, as it had the same dent on the hood, in the same exact space. Jake stood next to the car and peered inside. It was sterile, empty, and pristine, just as he had remembered it.

As Jake looked at the apartment complex, he saw there were only two lights on. One downstairs, and another up at their apartment. Where Sophia and him had carved out the meager life they called their own. The night was silent, no wind, no clouds, a flatness that fell over all. He looked back to Fin's car not knowing why it was here. Comforting and convincing himself that he was mistaken, or this was mere chance. Yet he knew, something was gravely wrong. Everything felt off, distinguished by the nervous energy around it, by his intuition.

As he ascended the stairs slowly, he hadn't noticed before all the details around him that signaled where they had lived. The condition of their existence. He noticed the cracked plaster, the rickety railing, wobbling under his hand, the misaligned windowsill, the emptiness that swallowed the roof and forest behind it, the flickering light that dragged it's boundaries across the doormat, worn and muddied.

 

Jake glanced at the window. There were no steps inside, Austin didn't peer out towards him, like he would usually, excitedly mewling whenever he saw Jake. He took from his pocket the door key, uttering a prayer for the first time in years, that everything was, and would be fine. Stomach knotted and hands shaking, he grasped the verdigris stained handle, listened softly through the door, and heard a voice he could seldom recognize, made of hushed whispers, soon stark, scolding and aggressive, pleading with someone.

He turned the key, the lock scraped as it slid back. He didn't bother to peer through, he opened it with confidence, fist clenching, knowing whatever laid on the other side, was something that existed outside all his expectation. He closed the door softly behind him, barely making a sound. It was loud enough regardless, between the rusted hinge and the squeal of the screen doors' piston, his entrance was clearly heard.

Inside, he smelled it, the unmistakable odor of sex, the musk of another man, Sophia's sweetness among a vile scent that hung heavily. Part of the carpet was wet, a small sticky wet puddle sinking into the fibers. He felt his heart crest inside his throat, no more voices, no more sounds, not even Austin purring.

He took three steps forward, scanning the same decrepit space in which they made their life. In which Sophia and him tried to make a home for each other, to nurse what their pasts had done to them. A pile of dishes, left in the sink, the same two chairs Ashlee gave them when they needed just somewhere to sit. Every part of their home, inherited, or given to them. Parts of others and themselves.

He didn't bother calling out, his fists clenched, he pushed the door to their bedroom open. He saw Sophia first. She was sitting on the bed, wearing a dress he didn't recognize, her head bowed, staring down at the floor. Her hair was a mess, covering her face, her hands free at her side, limp. Near her was Fin, who whispered in Sophia's ear, a command, a phrase, a want that he instilled in her unheard by Jake. She nodded her head, fearing disobedience, turning to see Jake, her face that of defeat, remorse, and pain. Fin crossed around her, preparing to speak as he looked at Jake.

Jake's senses couldn't comprehend what was there in front of him, what shape held contest in their room, their bed, their home. Fin took a breath to speak, as he looked Jake in the eyes. Within a second, Jake had made peace with his decision, fueled by a rage deeply rooted inside his chest, grinding, pushing through his bones, he rushed forward and punched.

As the blow connected, Fin's orbital socket cracked. Jake followed with an uppercut, Fin's nose shattered on impact. Fin choked down blood, face numb. Jake's fist drove into Fin's sternum. Fin fell back against the wall, Jake upon him, delivered a knee to Fin's stomach. Sophia stood, silent, hands raised to her mouth as she observed.

Fin felt the sickening depth of Jake's knee. Fin's hand grasped Jake's flannel, he threw his head forward and collapsed Jake's nose with a loud crunch. Jake felt his breath draw short, vision blurred, a gout of blood jetted down his lips, he staggered back, lashing out blindly.

Sophia looked at them, tears streaming down her face, past and present in both Fin and Jake, entombed in each other's violence. All of it, she knew was her making. Each of their blows unmasked something else horrific about them all, she turned to the doorway, and stepped out of the room weeping as her face turned crimson, her lip quivering, her thighs still slick, walking out the door, pausing before the stairs as she looked into the long night, Austin running below her legs, into the dark.

Jake tackled Fin onto the ground. He threw a punch straight down, Fin let it collide with his jaw, vision blurred, his sight a partition of blackness. Fin felt a broken tooth travel down his throat. Jake straddled Fin, full mount. Jake delivered punches over and over, each one battering Fin's face. Fin welcomed every blow, his smile never retreating even as his teeth fell to ruin.

Jake sank a punch into Fin's neck, making him gurgle blood. Jake over-committed, and through a shattered gaze, Fin watched Jake's center slip, missing his next punch. Fin grabbed Jake's wrist and forearm. Fin's hips bridged and rolled, he pushed with explosive torque against Jake's wrist, fracturing it with ease. As Jake screamed in agony, Fin transitioned away from him.

Fin stood back to draw distance between them, he slumped against the wall. His eyes widened as he noticed Sophia was gone. Jake stood, grasping at his waist and side, his wrist now a grotesque shape. Fin stopped scanning for Sophia, reached back, and withdrew his knife, its steep point glimmering. As his muscle memory and training provided, his non dominant arm rose, ready to sacrifice, to ensure a singular lethal movement. He could see the angle necessary, the response that would exploit Jake's weakest portions. He was ready to end this.

Fin readied the knife in front of him, thumb flat against the spine of the blade. He tried to catch his breath, vision on his left side completely dark. Body shivering, head spinning, he spoke, ragged, blood coating his teeth and pooling beneath his tongue."Don't."

Jake didn't respond, he stood grasping his wrist and resting his shoulder against the wall, noticing Sophia's absence. His heart broke. They were exhausted, both men teetered, trying to catch their breath, a tremor tore across Fin's hand, from exhaustion and prior wounds. Fin shifted his knife into an ice pick grip. He rested his back against the wall, gesturing towards the door. Declaring Sophia's absence as final. Jake shook his head, there was no words needed, every intention, bred out of spite, out of love, held the weight between them.

Jake grabbed a nearby vase, and threw it overhead at Fin, it shattered against the wall. Jake picked up a small table, and swung it. Fin's forearm caught the blow, absorbing the impact, hairline fractures spread like roots across his arm as numbness spread to his shoulder and neck. As Jake swung back with the stool, he caught Fin in the ribs, splintering several.

Fin's retort was quick, driving his blade deep into Jake's shoulder. With both hands Fin ripped his knife down and out with ease, leaving a long gaping wound, splitting muscle and blood through Jake's bicep, leaving in it's wake a jagged crevice of flesh. Fin delivered five quick stabs downwards into Jake's collar, reaching bone each time, crumpling and cutting Fin's clutch on the knife plunged the three inch blade deeper. As Jake punched repeatedly into Fin's side, he bruised and cracked more of his ribs, sapping what breath remained in him.

Jake leaned forward as he felt the blade drive down again. Jake bit Fin in the neck as hard as he could, gnashing his teeth like a dog. Fin smiled, finding ecstasy in the moment as his neck strained, wound gushing. Fin steadied Jake with his broken arm from behind, and began stabbing, seven full stabs into his back and shoulder, before releasing him.

Jake attempted to step back. Fin grabbed Jake's broken wrist and braced his knife against it horizontally, dragging, slicing down to his tendons. Fin let go, hand slick with Jake's blood as he collapsed backwards against the bed, clutching the knife as he struggled to remain conscious.

Jake fell to his knees, arm crippled, shivering, wheezing, mustering all he could to call to Sophia He slumped forward, fist still clenched. They both remained slumped, brutalized, wounded. Jake's face contorted deeper, tears not from his pain, not from the violence, but from Sophia's absence, knowing she was gone forever and the only thing left in the room was Fin.

Fin stood, bracing the wall, shoulder scraping against it, arm hung limp by his side. He still clutched his knife, shuffling out towards the entrance as he stood tall again, his face completely smeared in blood, brow broken, face a gnarled shape of broken flesh and bone, with fragmented teeth and swollen cheeks, he still smiled. Jake fell forwards, bleeding out. His eyes closed. He heard voices from the entrance. Distant sounds, darkness enveloping his vision. A woman's scream, so close, so familiar. Eyelids heavy, his eyes shut on their own, despite his efforts.

***

When Jake woke, he was on a gurney.

A police officer stood nearby, thumbs tucked into the sides of his tactical vest, the sounds of his radio filling the room. The steady cadence of electronic beeps merged with the controlled chaos of the hospital background, the formless voices of nurses and doctors alike echoing in the sterile halls.

Jake didn't feel any pain, just deliberate numbness, whatever medication they had given them, produced a warmth that held his body down. The tightness of gauze, stitches and glue, bandages and more covered his entire left side. The police officer's face was stern, professional, wide set, and intimidating.

"My name is Officer McKenzie. Could you please confirm your identity?"

"Jake McAslin."

"Thank you Jake. Do you know where you are, and why you're here?"

The officer crossed his arms, perturbed by even having to ask Jake any questions. He had heard all he needed to from Fin in the other room. Mckenzie was sure he knew Jake's type, a typical thug, a nobody, someone who polluted the town, that Mckenzie worked to make more "pure", and crime free. Still, he tried to remain objective.

"Yeah. I know." Jake said as he coughed loudly, eyes fluttering shut against the bright lights.

"Good."

"Where's Sophia? She ok?"

"Not for me to say. Detective Bech will be here soon."

Within minutes, Detective Bech entered the room. An excessively tall, gaunt older man. His voice was low, without pitch, unnervingly even.

"Detective Bech. You're Jake McAslin?"

Jake nodded.

"You're already under custodial supervision. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to a lawyer to be present during questioning and for advisory purposes. Do you understand?"

Jake nodded again. Bech sighed before he spoke, already bored with the conversation.

"What happened?"

"Came home. Fin been with my wife, so I fucked em up."

"Where were you coming from?"

"Last Exit. Bar we worked at."

"Did Fin say anything?"

Jake was silent. He cleared his throat and spoke groggily.

"Didn't need to. I could smell it."

"Do you remember how Fin was hurt?"

"Yeah. Me."

"Did you leave with Sophia after the conclusion of the altercation?"

"No. She left before."

Detective Bech nodded.

"Anything else?"

"Where's Sophia?"

"I can't provide that."

Jake nodded, and knew exactly what it meant.

"You're under arrest for aggravated battery."

The officer cuffed Jake's good arm to the gurney. Bech left the room, eyes cold, immediately on his phone. Jake's eyes closed again. The sedative working as intended. When Jake woke next, he asked a social worker to file a missing person's report for Sophia Cooper, sure that her disappearance was far from intentional, that she had to be somewhere, close by, or far. Someone knew. He just wanted to know she was safe, she was ok.

Sophia however, was gone. There was no database match, purchase transaction, or local surveillance that yielded any results. The professional presumption, was that she simply skipped town, not wanting to accept the increasingly public shame of her behavior, or the pain she had caused others brought to light with every resident interviewed by the local media. The story was always the same, a young woman who was humbled by karma, ignoring everything that she truly was. Within seventy-two hours police ceased their search. Within two weeks the case went inactive. As his trial loomed Jake's public defender in preparation, refused to include the issue, due to Fin stating she left voluntarily.

Finley Mintz, experienced a different reality when compared to that of Jake's. Starting with Fin's relative coherence at the scene, and Sophia's absence, Fin claimed self defense, unsure of Jake's capabilities or the potential presence of a firearm on his person. As Fin had explained to authorities: "He was just trying to calm Jake down. Just trying to discuss things rationally." Not a single officer doubted him. Fin's case closed in five days, a record for the county.

Without representation, Jake faced up to fifteen years. He knew that soon he'd face a judge, and regardless of the outcome, he would be proud of what he had done, conjuring whatever conviction remained, as he faced down the justice system. His only regret was not being able to kill Fin. He knew he wouldn't have the chance ever again. A daring attorney managed a plea deal within three months, citing passion, and pain alike for Jake's choices. He was shipped out to a local minimum security prison on a minimum twenty month sentence.

Everyday forwards for Jake, was a testament to pain in all its forms. Physical rehabilitation for his left arm and shoulder was agonizing, his left hand had a permanent tremor and his wrist mobility was almost non existent, his shoulder burned every time he lifted it. His pain wasn't just physical, it was a long series of nightmares, of heedless rage, screaming, broken knuckles, and soon, a long quiet despair. His depression, complete and fully felt, made him the model prisoner. He was polite, subdued, and seldom spoke a word.

After three months spent secluded from the world, torn away from all he knew, Jake put in the paperwork to separate him and Sophia, it didn't cause him as much pain as he thought. He had made a degree of peace, that she was gone, forever. After six months of the filing of his paperwork for divorce, he received a default judgment. The day he received confirmation, he sat in his cell, to write in his journal. As he wrote, every line caused his damaged muscles to ache, it was the last letter he would write to her, to anyone.

***

Ashlee collected bills from the front of the stage as her dance came to close, the circling pink and purple lights, throbbing bass and broken mic of the DJ was familiar to her, mechanical even. She looked down and saw the unmistakable, flat, misshapen face of Eli. She scoffed.

"Didn't expect to see to ya wrinkled ass around here. Ya come just to remember what it was like when ya dick still worked? Lemme guess gon throw dollas up here?"

Eli threw a single dollar bill on stage.

"There ya go girl, bout as much as ya worth. Don't ever say I ain't generous."

Ashlee bent down, her generous thighs pinched together as she leaned down, grabbed the dollar bill and tore it in two, throwing it back at him.

Eli shook his head.

"Damn ya was a bitch at Last Exit, ya still a bitch here."

"I ain't a bitch, you an asshole Eli. Sorriest sack of shit in this damn town."

"Well I ain't got tha bar, so I gotta go somewhere."

"Silly me, I thought ya was just coming around because you were my fan."

"Only way I'd be ya fan is if you'd suck my cock girl."

"Such a charmer Eli. Ain't ya ever get tired of being a loser? Or does that get ya off? Is that what this be? Hmm? Make ya happy to make a woman drier than a prune? Shit I feel like the Sahara every time I see ya."

"Nah. Sides' I ain't owe ya shit. If the bar was still open I'd be there, instead of here."

Ashlee stepped off the stage, barely even acknowledging her nakedness around Eli. She wrapped a towel around herself.

"Last Exit? Fuck that place. Yeah let me tell ya, it was real nice to show up for work, ain't no notice, shit is suddenly closed, I'm left without a paycheck, and that's it. That place can burn to the fucking ground for all I care."

"Well good news, maybe ya can get your job back, gon be under new management soon, sure a pretty mouth like ya got could convince him... or her. Whoever it be."

"Great career advice."

Eli took a long swig.

"Ya hear about all that happened right?"

"Yeah, hard not to. Dumbass. It was everywhere, had every cop asking me about shit I don't even know."

"I ain't talkin' bout that. Ya know Jake, he got hisself a deal, prison, two years I think."

"Wait... prison?"

"Down tha road, minimum."

"Shit... they said he was on trial."

"That right there show ya don't know shit about shit. That was close to nine months ago. Boy been in there a while now."

"Go fuck yaself Eli."

Eli shrugged. Ashlee turned and started to walk away, heels clicking on the sticky floor. He spoke, allowing himself, a tone that felt difficult even for him to maintain.

"Ashlee."

She turned, he hadn't said her name in years, either just snapping his fingers, or finding another degrading name for her.

"Ya know. I feel bad for-"

She looked at him to finish. He offered no response, instead he stared back at the stage, waiting for the next performer. Ashlee sighed and walked back into the changing area. As she sat and collected her things, changing back into comfortable clothes, her mind wandered back to Jake. To Issac. To what had happened all those years ago. If Jake was alone, she would make an effort, to see him.

***

At the designated meeting area, monitored heavily by correctional staff, Ashlee sat across the table nervously. It had taken weeks for her appointment and registration to clear. She watched Jake saunter in, they embraced, both saw tears in each other's eyes. As they settled, Ashlee saw Jake smile, but he no longer had the same hope in his eyes, or characteristic warmth, loss had hardened him clearly, and he couldn't even mask the pain that was still present on his face, and visible in his left hand, as constant tremors persisted in it, a rough scar on his wrist showing where a plate has been inserted, the same shoulder slumped low. His voice was solemn, devout with melancholy.

"Ashlee. Damn I ain't never expect to see you like this."

"Me either. I... damn, I don even-"

"Don't. Ain't no words you could say that gon make it make sense. Any sorries you got, keep em."

"I-"

Jake sighed and spoke after.

"Sorry, that was... too harsh. I'm sorry. I jus-"

"It's ok. I get it. I do. It is good to see ya tho. I, was worried-"

"Nothing to worry about anymore."

"True."

"How you be Ashlee? I ain't even ask. My bad."

Ashlee smiled, she still maintained an allure that had fascinated Jake long ago. But her expression was open, welcome, her voice still tobacco etched as she spoke.

"I'm ok. Poor as shit. Been at Malone's, getting' money in my boot, just barely. Been a hot minute since I seen anyone. Cept' Eli."

"Of course that fuck would still be around, man's a damn cockroach."

"Hey, I ain't gon dispute that."

Jake looked towards the clock, carefully counting the minutes, ensuring he made good use of the time he had, to see the first person he actually knew in months.

"I'm gonna ask, but I know what the answer is. You ain't seen her... Sophia have you?

Ashlee shook her head, looking away from Jake's eyes, still seeing the concern for the woman that was now long gone. She spoke.

"Naw. Ain't no one seen her."

Jake nodded his head.

Ashlee continued.

"Fin's gone. No one's saw Gerald since neither. That much for sure."

"Fin's gone?"

"Yeah, ain't seen about a week after he got out the hospital. Lotta folks call him a hero, said he made the town a better place. Hardly a soul dispute it, hand to god."

Nothing had, or truly would change. Jake had learned that throughout his life, and as he heard Ashlee tell him what he already felt, and now knew, it mattered even less to him. As much as it hurt, it was helping him heal, to know he was right about how miserable and worthless the whole damn town was.

Jake nursed his wrist, the slightest change in temperature causing him agony. He spoke.

 

 

"It's hard to say where one of em' ends and the other begins. Sophia and Fin that is. They all... dunno, complete each other. One used the other, the other used back, they ain't gon' move on for anything. "

"Jake, what she done, it's fucked up. She left ya here. You ain't deserve that."

"I know. I don't say I forgave her, I been here, got a wall to stare at. You get to know every space, every crack, all it. So ya got time. And I ain't healed, but I know she ain't either."

"You think she ever will be?"

"Naw. But, she hope she will, ain't no point in hope, less you wanna make it somethin' real"

"You think she sorry?"

"Nah. I mean she sorry, but, more for her I think. I wanna believe she is, for what done. But, it don't matter anymore. It doesn't."

"If ya want, I'd lov-I'd like to come back next week, see ya again."

"I'd like that. Yeah."

They stood, and hugged, tense at first, but soon friendly. Jake watched Ashlee leave as she waved goodbye to him, smiling warmly. Jake returned to his cell to find his mail, there was a letter with no address on it, he didn't recognize the handwriting on the envelope. He opened it and read the letter inside.

Jake,

I'm gone now. I thought of waiting for you, to see me. To see her. I know I can't ever be forgiven for what I've done. But she doesn't have to bear the weight. Neither do you. I know I may disgust you, don't pity me. I don't regret you, or us. I'll spare the life I have left, for her. I can never return. I hope you understand, that I'm free now. I love you.

-Sophia

Inside was the only photo of them they ever had, crumpled, slightly torn, with a stain that darkened the bottom of it. Jake carefully folded the note along with the photo. He placed it inside the waste bin. He held his head between his hands. At the bottom of his heart, all he could muster for her was a hope that that she was truly free. He knew that one day soon, he too, would be free.

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