HIM .. Joe Goldberg

BLOOD

I WALK HOME BATTLING TEARS and debating if I should call out. I can't possibly work like this, I'm distraught and distracted and goddamn disappointed and at this point I'll be putting others at risk. I'm a nurse, for Christ's sake. When I get into my apartment Hannah is making coffee with a joint in her hand and I slam the door hard behind me. Hannah jumps. "Fuck, Brit. You're gonna scare the neighbors."

"I made a complete idiot of myself for nothing." I growl as I drop my jacket to my feet and I storm towards Hannah. "He wasn't even there, Hannah. I spent a dollar eighty on a coffee I didn't even fucking need. He wasn't fucking there."

"Wait, do you still have the coffee? I was just about to make some-"

"You're missing the point!" I grab her shoulders and Hannah tenses under me. "He wasn't fucking there, Hannah. What the fuck? Why wasn't he there?"

"Maybe he slept in, you guys were out late last night-"

"Not late enough!" I begin pacing the kitchen. "He didn't even drink that much, and he's a grown man. He can hold his liquor. He wasn't too hungover, he's just fucking ignoring me."

"You're overthinking it," Hannah says sympathetically.

"YOU'RE NOT THINKING ENOUGH!" And I shove her because goddammit why can't she see how vital this shit fucking is? You weren't there, Joe. Where the fuck were you? What was so fucking important that you had to miss out on ME? "He said he was going to be there today, he was even being cheeky about it! And then he stands me up? That's fucking bullshit, Hannah!"

"Sweetie, I know it is, but I truly don't think you have the whole story! Maybe something came up for him-"

"What could possibly come up this early in the morning?!"

"Shit, I don't know. I doubt he'd ghost you after one meeting, though. I mean, you said things went well?"

"Things did!"

"So...? I doubt it's as bad as it seems. Remember how hard it was for us to get Liam?"

No. She can't compare her and Liam to us, Joe. We're different, we're a love story for the fucking century. We're Romeo and Juliet, Bonnie and Clyde, and you're fucking it all up.

"He's toying with me," I growl, and tears prick my eyes. "Oh, fuck. Is he just like the rest-"

"Don't even say that, Brit." Hannah rushes towards me, holds my shoulders comfortingly. "You know he's different. I'm sure some random thing happened, he could've missed the subway or something-"

"Fuck him. He's playing me. Well, I can make him feel just as insignificant." I pull away from her and storm to the kitchen counter.

Hannah eases closer, wary as I approach the wooden block with knives sticking from it. "Brit, what are you doing?"

"He's fucking lucky he wasn't there," I grab a butcher's knife. "Let's see if his luck continues."

Hannah looks at the knife in immediate discomfort. She isn't sure whether to reach out or not, she stays frozen. "Britannia, what are you planning on doing with that?"

"Oh, this? Well, if Joe's there, I'm going to castrate him. If he's not, I'm going to fuck Curtis where Joe sits at the register and wait until he comes in, then I'm gonna stab them both."

"Brit, you're letting your emotions get in the way of logic! You can't-"

"I can't?" I turn to her incredulously, she cowers back. "What do you mean I can't? Are we not Charlie's Angels? Do we not have the power to do anything we want?"

"Not assault!"

"It won't be assault, it'll be murder." I wink and tap my temple with the sharp edge of the knife. "No witnesses."

"Britannia!"

"Will you stop saying that, please? You know I prefer Brit." I place the knife in my purse. "Who knows? If I get caught, maybe I'll like jail. There's some hot guards."

"What would Charlie think of all this?!"

"He would think I'm badass! Now, if you'd excuse me, I'm fucking leaving."

I push Hannah out of the way when she tries to block the door and sprint down the hallway before she could grab my blonde hair and yank me back. You brought this down upon yourself, Joe. You decided to play me like a schoolgirl, thinking you could mess with my head and I'll blow you afterwords. Let me tell you something, Joe Goldberg, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Consider me fucking scorned.

The bus is a quick five minute ride and my thoughts are painted with blood, constantly rushing down different avenues of possibility. What if you and Curtis are both there? I'll kill Curtis first, I want to save you for last. Maybe even go into the closest you always hide out in? Assuming it is one, and not a secret nest you created for yourself to stash keepsakes of all the girls you fuck with. What of mine do you have in there, Joe? My Bukowski book? You little prick.

Just Curtis? I'll jack him off over your newest paystub, of course. And then also kill him over it, because I like being thorough and who would cash a check drenched in blood and cum? Not that you'd have much time left to get that far, of course.

And how about you, my little songbird? What if it's just you in there? Are you prepared to see a pretty blonde rush at you with a knife?

Customers. There's the rub. What will I do about customers? The need to leave, clearly, but they must do it freely. If I force them out, it would be suspect. Perhaps I can make a scene in whichever I chose, coming onto Curtis too strong that people would gag at the sight, or yelling at you like an insane girlfriend until people eventually disburse to avoid conflict. Either or would work, typically people don't like being absorbed in bullshit that they don't need to be a part of.

Mooney's. The place where I'll shed blood. The crime scene that I may get locked up for. The bookstore where you burned me. When I enter, my purse held tightly against my chest, you smile broadly. You're here, sitting at the cash register like it was the first day I saw you.

"Hey, Brit!" You're holding up a book. Bukowski. "I was worried you wouldn't show up. Here, I already paid for it, it's yours."

I'm frozen.