Sin and Soul

The horizon

Nirvana tilted her head from side to side, working the kinks from her neck. The week had been unbearably long. She kicked off her heels and stretched, her back arching off the chair. She pulled open the drawer of her enormous desk. Holding the cold brass handle as she stared blankly inside. The small handgun was beautiful and simplistic. A shiny silver that winked in the dim light. She unclenched the drawer handle and caressed the steel.

Her heart rate began to slow, the room became deafening loud and silent at the same time. She snatched the machine pistol from the drawer. She loaded a magazine into it.

Nirvana stood slowly and straightened her pencil skirt. She removed her dress shirt throwing the fitted blazer on over her bra. She carefully placed the weapon on her desk and grabbed her make-up bag. Opening her compact she gave herself a once over. Her silk pressed hair floating around her head and shining like a halo. The deep red of her lips enticing.

Nirvana put away the make-up and grabbed the pistol, her keys, purse and phone.

The gray Lexus GS started, silently rumbling under her. She pulled out of the parking lot and pulled onto the freeway. The speedometer shot from forty to one hundred and ten. The world became a blur. Nirvana reached over to the passenger seat. The large bottle of Josè Cuervo sitting next to the pistol. She placed the bottle between her thighs with one hand and twisted off the top. The sun sunk out of view into the horizon and the blue automatic lights in the dashboard lit up.

The bottle touched her lips and the burn of the tequila razed her throat. But there was no taste. Alcohol had no taste at this point.

She pulled off of the freeway, the street lights brighter, the bottle a third gone and her blood warm. Finally. After a few turns she found herself in a quiet suburb. The small neat houses spaced out considerably, with large deciduous trees and tall hedges between them. She parked at a home for sale a block away, obscured from view and dark.
The street was quiet as Nirvana walked barefoot through the lawns. Pistol in one hand, bottle in the other and a pillow tucked under arm. A little yellow house with white trimming sat in front of her. She peered through the slightly open window. A woman, about twenty years old, sat at a dining table. Tears streaming down her face as she whispered into her phone furiously.

"But why? Why Bryan?! I can give you anything! I'll be anything!"
Nirvana sat the pistol and bottle quietly in the grass. Reaching into her blazer pockets she took out purple latex gloves and hand sanitizer. She slipped on gloves and applied the sanitizer to them. Silently she dragged a lawn chair to the window, angling it to be in the darkness provided by the shrubbery and sat.

"Bryan if you dont...no I need you. PLEASE!" The room went silent. The young woman's body trembling.

"Bryan. Can we at least be friends? You can't just cut me off. Please!"

Nirvana stared. The woman was pretty. Brown skin with short neat hair. Her body wasn't a classic shape but the tight fitted jeans and top complimented her figure.

Patricia Holland. Twenty years old. Engaged. Manager at Kinkos and his attendee. Nirvana rattled off the facts in her head. It took her only hours to find the address. It'd taken her years to learn restraint. Four years this woman had slept with her husband. Been in her home, her cars. Even came to her law firm to seek reprenstation from her for her brother's criminal case. She assumed Nirvana knew nothing at that time. But she knew Nirvana knew.

She remembered when she found out about Patricia and Bryan after accepting the case . How she begged Bryan to stop. Even wrote letters to Patricia asking to be respected.

Nirvana chuckled. Patricia slammed the phone on the table, screaming with grief and frustration. Her fiance and dog came racing into the room.

"Babe?! You okay?" He asked. Jason Ye was 6'7. Lanky but strong and dark as midnight. Just Nirvana's type she mused.

"I'm fine baby, my jobs just stressing me out." Patricia sniffled.

Nirvana reached into her pocket again. Pulling out a silencer, she began screwing it onto the pistol.

"What time is it?" Patricia asked. "I haven't let Queen out since four."

Jason looked at his watch. "Shit it's ten!" He pressed a botton turning on the boxer's electric collar and unlocking the doggie door. The young dog ran out body wiggling with excitement. Patricia shuffled out of the kitchen with Jason, neither taking a second glance. Why would they? This neighborhood was safe after all. Queen ran directly to Nirvana, nuzzling her hand. Queen and Nirvana had become great companions during nights like these. Nirvana could tell that Patricia loved the dog like a child and she could see why. For the last time Nirvana reached into her blazer and pulled out a peanut butter biscuit. She had pressed a fast acting tranquilizer pill into it before hand. Within five minutes Queen was asleep at her feet.

Nirvana put the chair back and pourmed tequila on it to remove her bodily trace.

She took the pillow laying it on Queen's chest.
Then there was a low pop, barely audible. Nirvana drenched the blood soaked pillow in tequila and sat it on the patio. Tying her hair into a tight bun she stripped out of her blazer and skirt. She slid in through the dog door and without a sound found a lighter, stray piece of paper and a pen.

Within minutes she'd slipped back out of the door and gathered her belongings. She lit the small pillow on fire and was back in her car within minutes. She pulled off the block taking the exit opposite of the house's direction. With the windows down she heard the scream.

Patricia screamed until her voice was hoarse. The note in her hand read "All bitches can die from a broken heart. I didn't but you will."

Queen's little body was lain a few feet away from the burning mess of whatever on her porch. Jason was stomping the flames yelling at Patricia to get inside.