Remnants of Evil

1

The sound of my heavy footsteps on the cement lingered in the hot and sticky night air, my pace picking up slightly as a dog began barking from a nearby yard. Thick liquid dripped from my nose, pooling in the little dip above my top lip, teasing me with its coppery taste as it spilled past my parted lips. Only another block until I was safe, no longer a target on the unforgiving New Orleans streets, the same streets I'd walked daily for the last twenty six years. There was no where in the world where I wouldn't be a target at this time of night, a 5'2, hundred and somethin' pound, blonde girl wandering all alone.

My heart finally slowed down as I spotted my porch in the distance, my breaths heavy and panting as I finally made my way up the concrete steps, feeling the wooden planks of the actual porch squeak beneath my weight. As I reached for the door knob, I prayed for Aristos to be asleep. I didn't need him to ask me the questions he knows I can't fully answer. I turned it, my chest aching as it stuck. Locked. I patted all my pockets, verifying that I didn't have my keys, verifying that I'd have to deal with Aristos being panicked.

Heavy knocks rang out as I slammed the side of my fist against the wooden door, my eyes squinting as the porch light flicked on. Aristos rubbed his eyes as he opened the door, his curly brown hair tied up into a bun, a pair of black sweats on, and some band t-shirt on. Our eyes met, his tired brown ones widening as he took in the bloody mess that was my face. He pulled me inside, slamming the door behind us.

"What the fuck happened to you?" My chest twinged with pain as his words cut through the air. I knew he was tired of me coming home like this, and I was tired of him being worried about me, but his words lacked any care. "You leave for three hours and manage to get beat up?"

"You can blame your fuckin' cousin. Scott just fuckin' left me there," I felt tears welling in the corners of my eyes, and I tried my hardest to hold them back. Ari exhaled and shook his head, using his thumb to wipe a tear away as it fell, his hand lingering on the side of my face.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he removed his hand, leading me through the dark living room and into the blue tiled kitchen. He lifted me up onto the counter, disappearing to find the first aid kit.

He popped the white box open, taking one of the alcohol wipes and wiping it across my nose, his free hand resting on my cheek. I winced as the cool burning sensation spread though my skin, a soft whimper bubbling in my throat as he cleaned a bigger area.

"Shhh, it's okay baby, it's almost over," his voice had softened. He tossed the used alcohol wipe on the counter, it's deep red color in drastic contrast with the white countertops, and grabbed a new one. It's cool sting traced the bridge of my nose, down to where it was busted next to my nostril, and across to clean the blood off my lip. "Stay here."

I watched him disappear into the darkness, could hear him rustling through a drawer. He reappeared with two small blue pills in his hand and a cup of water. I tossed them back, quickly gulping down the cup of water.

The space between us shrunk as he moved to stand between my legs, his arms going around my waist.

"You've gotta stop scaring me like this baby." I didn't reply, instead I just leaned down and softly pressed my lips to his, smiling as I felt his grip on me tighten and him lifting me off the counter.

We found our place under the covers, my head on his chest and a leg across his hips, his hand tracing circles on my back, and drifted off to sleep.

»»-----　　-----««

"I don't care if you're trying to get your fucking dick wet, Scott! You can't just leave her shitty places."

My head spun as it tried to figure out what was going on as I was pulled from my sleep.

"Kalia knows how to handle herself," Scott's gravelly drawl was unmistakable no matter how tired or dazed I was.

"Then tell me why she came home beat to shit last night?" Ari's voice was coated in annoyance, boasting an angry undertone.

"She must'a done somethin' dumb."

"The only dumb thing I did was think you wouldn't leave me to go fuck some junkie," I scoffed, leaning against the door frame, "I woulda' been fine if your bitch ass hadn't cut the shit."

The tall fake blond turned to face me, his jaw clenched, his arms that had been crossed fell to his sides. His demeanor remained tense as he took the few steps over to me, getting close enough that I had to look up to maintain eye contact.

"Don't you fuckin' say I cut it, you know damn well I didn't." His tattooed hand raised, a finger pressing into my sternum. I pushed it away and shook my head.

"Then why the fuck did that shit burn? You wanted to make a quick fuckin' buck and because of it I didn't bring home shit but a busted nose."

"You didn't even get any money?"

"No one wants to pay coke money for crystal, and now because of your dumb ass we're out $160."

Scott backed off and sat on the worn brown couch, his head resting in his hands. Aristos retreated into the kitchen, leaving me alone with him in the uncomfortable silence.

"What are we gonna do?" Scott sounded defeated, only raising his head once I fell into the spot next to him. His blue irises stood in contrast to his bloodshot eyes, purple circles creating the illusion that his eyes were sunken in. The same eyes I'd stared into for years now narrating a story of relapse and restlessness. As much as I wanted to continue being mad at him, I knew how deep he had to be to even hint at being vulnerable.

"You gotta sell whatever you got stashed," I picked a cigarette out of the pack on the coffee table, cupping a hand around the tip as I lit it. "And don't try to front and say you got nothing, I was with you when you picked it all up."

He took the cigarette as I passed it to him, holding in the smoke, exhaling harshly as he shut his eyes and leaned his head back. "I'll get it sold tonight, keep just enough to not start goin' through withdrawals."

I leaned into him, resting against his chest as I inhaled the cigarette smoke. He placed his arm across my shoulders and squeezed. As much as Scott drove me fucking crazy, he would always be my safe space. He'd sat with me like this when I had my first heartbreak in sixth grade, when my parents finally got divorced, when Ari and I would get in fights. He'd always be there willing to let me cry to him, and I would do the same for him, and I have many times. Long nights spent with him while he's vomiting through withdrawals, visiting him while he was in court ordered rehab, each time he'd gotten his heart broken and swore he'd never love a bitch again. He was a once in a lifetime type of friend, and I'd never let dumb shit take him from me.