The Lonely Hearts Club

Chapter 4: The Concerned Citizen (Hades)

My plan failed.

No hitman is going to show ID...I thought it would help the girl feel safer if I did.

Apparently not.

I panicked, okay? She threatened to kill me.

Me.

The motherfucker trying to see if she was alright.

I drove all the way across town to Ice Apartments. Seriously, what kind of name is that?

It's fucking sketchy as hell here, half the hallway lights aren't turned on and the rest are flickering.

Needles and broken glass are all over the stained carpets and everything is covered in graffiti.

That's just on the inside.

Don't even get me started on the outside.

At least I can tell Lana I tried.

I can say this girl isn't sad or in danger, but in fact, is quite vicious and threatening.

More than capable of handling things herself.

A door cracks open on my right and an old lady with silver hair shoves her head out.

"Angelo's Gran?" I guess.

"Angelico." She corrects. "I'm Silvia, the concerned citizen."

"Right."

I guess Lana isn't the only one who calls him by his first name.

"Come in dear, let's talk."

I follow her inside.

Silvia's entire place is bright blue and stuffed with random items—a flamingo is sitting in a corner and a portrait of a naked man is on the wall.

"The walls are ever so thin, I could hear you both talking." She says, settling down on an overstuffed vintage chair.

"You heard her say—"

"Sit." She flaps a claw-like hand at me and I do.

"Did you—"

"Yes, I heard Bree say that I was hearing things, but I'm not senile just yet."

So her name is Bree.

"I feel quite sorry for her."

"What happened?" I ask.

"She arrived a little over a year ago as a very skittish girl—I could sense trauma before she ever said a word."

This lady is nuts.

"She gets all of her stuff delivered so she never has to leave her place unnecessarily,"

Silvia leans over the glass table to pick up a flowery pot of tea.

"At night, I presume she has nightmares because she always screams and yells in her sleep."

"What does she say?" I ask, sounding more and more like a creep by the second.

"She mainly screams stop, and someone help me, then she cries,"

Silvia hands me a cup of tea and I take it.

"She's very disturbed at night, but nothing is worse than Fridays."

"What do you mean?"

Today is Friday.

"Before I say anything, just know I'm only telling you this so you can help her, got it?"

"Got it."

"The mail comes today, every week she gets a package or a letter and that's when the hysterics start."