How To Kill a Songbird

Chapter 22: Trouble in a Perceived Paradise

"Asher, calm down," asked Morgan, she looked a little scared since I had screamed some choice words at her earlier. She was shocked at how angry I could get. But she definitely has some nerve. And she gives me so much whiplash I am surprised my neck hasn't snapped off completely.

She was always a mean, tough lesbian. She never was one to let her true feelings show as a kid so when she said, "I hate you," it was because she was trying to ignore her feelings for me. When she does that, she acts like a bitch. One of those times she told me to "go play in traffic."

When she says "I love you" it's when she acts like a decent human being. For example, in 8th grade, she saved me from the one-armed creatin named Tucker Henshaw. He acted like the whole world owed him something due to his missing arm. He was bullying me at my 8th-grade practice graduation assembly over my phone going off. She defended me then and there because at the time I wanted the chair I was sitting in to turn into a black hole and eat me alive.

I warned you all about the love-hate relationship we both have. Torture was a new thing though. I just have a million questions. I was frustrated.  I couldn't find the words to phrase it. I was so stunned by this. Was she hurting me because she never liked me? Or was there another motivation? Morgan would have never hurt me, would she? I felt betrayed, hurt, and strangely sexually frustrated a bit for some bizarre reason.

I looked around the room where I was. I was in a bunker of some kind. It was underground due to how the walls rumbled due to passing traffic. I could see the rebar structure underneath because of the decay as the concrete fell away over the years. There were five cots in the room. It reminded me of a Cold War bunker. The open doorway led to a hallway. One path led up to the stairs. The other path went somewhere else as this room was in the corner of the structure. There was a mesh window made from steel on the wall. It was like a guard post in an underground parking garage. Morgan still wore the Under-Armor shirt and Kim Possible-style cargo pants. Her green eyes were filled with worry as she ran her fingers through her hair. She said she loved me all those years ago, but now it seemed like she was trying to kill me. She was receptive to me flirting with her, despite that I cannot flirt worth a damn.

"Calm down!?" I snarled, stunned at the revelation. "What the fuck is going on, Morgan? One minute you are flirting with me, the next you tortured me like some CIA spec-ops shit. Just stick to one emotion! Why the fuck did you do that to me?! And my best friend? You infuriate me you know that? You don't know me! I don't owe you an explanation of my trauma."

"I know this is a bit of a shock," Morgan stated quickly with some apprehension in her voice. "But we needed to know if you were controlled by him already. I am sorry! I promise to never do that to you again."

I rolled my eyes at her. I was starting to get frustrated again. I stood up. My body ached, but I could hold myself up, "Whatever happened to dinner and a movie before you do some kinky shit? I am not into hook-up culture!"

I scanned the room for anything I could throw. I found an old beer bottle that was forgotten on the floor. I picked it up and threw it at the wall screaming, "MOTHERFUCKERS!"

It shattered on impact. Morgan was stunned, but she looked like she was enjoying it too. She has never seen me angry before. Now she gets a front-row seat.

"Ashe-," she started to say. She didn't finish because I cut her off.

"I swear to God!" I said as I pushed her against the wall with a thud. I used my hand to hold her against the wall by her chest. Morgan had a wide-eyed stare. I got right in her face.

"You treat me like shit and then you want to ask me personal details about my trauma that you have no right to demand from me, you stupid asshole? What the fuck is wrong with you? One minute you are helping me, the next you are such a bitch! Make up your damn mind already! I have been waiting since fourth grade!" I growled through gritted teeth.