Leave Me Behind

by K.M. Moronova

I’m the type of person who can’t hold eye contact for more than a few seconds, but with him, I don’t feel the urge to pull away. He’s searching my eyes for something, studying me closely.

There’s really only one person I’m worried about running into before tomorrow. They call him Bones. He’s rumored to be the cruelest man in the dark forces. Apparently he likes breaking open ribcages and literally pulling people’s hearts out. Sometimes their bones. Hence the disturbing code name he bears.

There’s something in the way he stares at me, like a starved man who’s contemplating a heinous act. You don’t have to tell me there isn’t one good thought in his head. Red flags are flying all around this guy. But I can’t look away. He captivates me, scares me even and I can kill a man in five seconds flat.

My mom always said I was into bad guys. I doubt she knew I’d grow up to be into ones who clearly had psychological problems. The ones you don’t tell God about when you pray at church to forgive your sins—the ones with dark backstories and baggage.

“What God? Tonight, you only scream and cry for me. No God will bear witness to what I make of you.”

“Great. Our psychopath meets his match and now our lives are in their twisted hands.”

“I killed a few bad people.” Horrifically. Borderline animalistically. “I’m useless in the real world.”

“When you let go of your thoughts, you can do anything, Gallows.”

“Sometimes I still hear them. Sometimes… I think if I turn around, they’ll still be here.”

“Sometimes I dream of them,” he confides, turning his face away from mine. He takes the lead and I follow behind. “Other times I see them in strangers, small things. The way a smile grows or a quirk I thought was only unique to them.”

I should cut off his dick. Break his lovely nose. What I would do to make him cry. A smug, self-indulgent grin spreads over my lips at those diabolical thoughts. He deserves so much worse.

“Leave it to a Riøt to be a fucking snake,” Pete says loud enough for me to hear. He’s taking it harder than the rest for some reason. Poor loser. “Leave it to a Malum to cry about it,” I snap back.

I seethe all night as I scrub the blood from beneath my nails. Devils do bleed.