Darkside

Nine

Days pass, every single one a blur, all of them the same.

It might be boring, but that's what I need.

The routine is good, it helps me to slip into Phoenix properly, I don't have the opportunity to tumble into Luvvie by mistake. The diner customers are an ocean of ever-changing faces, so no one can get close enough to see me, to know me, to take off the mask. I can just keep acting like I'm this tough, vagrant girl which thick skin and a permanent half-smile.

Some days, I give myself a bit of a back story, not to ever share with anyone just for fun, to make Phoenix a more well-rounded character to play with, but other days I focus on surviving the present, on remembering who I am. I'm good at this life though, better than I thought I might be. I deal with rude customers using my sharp tongue, I flirt for tips, I create superficial friendships with the other waitresses, and at the end of the week, I get my pay check.

More money to squirrel away in the fund, to keep me going for as long as I can.

The same days allow me to relax. The more time that goes by, the less likely it is I'll be found. My news story, missing: presumed dead, is dying down, people are losing interest. Women vanish every day, women are killed all the time, it's a sad fact but one which benefits me right now. There are other, fresher cases to focus on.

Luvvie Thompson might have a few people still looking for her, but not enough.

Good.

My plan to vanish, to become someone else, it seemed impossible at first, but here I am doing it, succeeding at that. All I had to do is stay under the radar. Get a job at a seedy diner which pays under the table, stay in the sort of motel where everyone wants to escape so no one looks at anyone, and don't make friends. Not real friends anyway, just other girls who work at the diner because they have their own life issues to contend with.

Nothing deep, that's all, and it really is so easy.

I made that mistake with Orson. He still has my prints all over him, he knows me far better than he should, he may've even seen my scars, but he has no idea where I am. I can remain calm in that knowledge. He's back in his motel living his same existence, and I'm here.

I'm starting again, it's a miracle.

Anyone could do it with enough planning and care. Anyone who finds themselves in the sort of messy situation I did can get away. Even when it feels impossible, it isn't.

If I didn't need to keep myself hidden, I'd become one of those self-help speakers, telling my tale to inspire others.

Huh, funny. I could've inspired others.

Okay, so this might not be the freedom I wanted, maybe I do want something a bit more meaningful for Phoenix in the end, but I'm slowly learning not to run before I can walk. Once I'm settled, I can sneakily make the world a better place, or maybe just my world.

I will use my freedom to make me happy somehow, at some point, but for now I'm content just getting by.

"You coming out for Tesha's birthday tonight?"

"Huh?"

I stare at the waitress I'm working with, scanning my brain for her name. Is she Brooke? Or Hettie? God, there are too many for me to keep track of.

"Tesha. Her birthday." Her voice is slow like I'm simple. "Are you coming out? We're all going to that new nightclub at the main square. You know the one? Should be a good night."

"Oh."

A nightclub...alcohol...a birthday party. All bad for me in every single way, but won't I stand out more if I don't go? As long as I keep my mouth shut I'll be alright, won't I?

"Come on, Phoenix. You never hang out with us, girl. We are fun, I promise you."

Just this once.

It can't hurt just this once, can it?

"Sure, why not. Sounds good."

I beam, heat flowing through my veins. It's been a long time since I let loose. Perhaps it's time for a little break in the routine, just to keep things fresh.