September 14th, 1997-Three become four
Shit happens.
It was their motto, and Ray, for the life of him, couldn't remember which one of them started saying it first. Had it been Kael 'Kazza' Simons? It WAS the sort of thing he would come up with. Or had it been Desiree 'Dizzy' McMinn? She was also likely to think of something like that.
But, unlikely though it was, it COULD have been Melanie 'Mal' Dwyer. She was quiet, yes, but she was also smart. A lot smarter than Ray, or Kazza.
But why was Ray even worrying about WHO made it up?
It didn't matter. What mattered was that they believed it, believed it whole-heartedly, for it was their motto.
For anyone else who did not believe, Kazza and the others MADE them believe-in many varied ways.
Good old Kazza, he was a great guy. But he often had problems with his temper, Ray knew. He remembered one incident when they were just kids, in fourth or fifth grade, Ray couldn't remember, and Kazza had wanted to play the flute, but the music teacher adamantly refused, saying that he had to 'develop' his musical skills some more. Well, Kazza saw right through that old crone's lies, and he lost his temper.
Kazza was expelled for cracking a big old guitar over his teachers' head.
Dizzy took a different approach to dealing with her anger. When the blow would first land, she would simply smile at you politely and walk away. But she, more than often, had one or two feral plans hatching in her mind, ready to make those who had wronged her pay most dearly.
In high school, when she was in the tenth grade, someone, (presumably, another girl) called her a 'filthy whore.'
The day after, the girl who had offended Dizzy was expelled for sleeping with her History teacher, of which Ray was sure Dizzy still had 'photographic evidence'.
Mal was probably the calmest of them all, taking longer than the others to take her revenge. Mal was a planner. She loved to plan, and she did it well. Ray remembered one time, quite clearly, when she had been teased horribly, when she was in only third grade! Well, the teasing went for another month or two before anything particularly nasty happened. But on one particular day, Ray couldn't remember which, all the nasty bitches hadn't turned up to school one day. The teacher had rung up their parents and asked them why weren't they at school?
The answer had been because nearly all of them were suffering from severe food poisoning. Two of those girls had succumbed to Death's loving embrace, and everything cleared up for Mal.
That was the first time any of them had ever killed, Ray thought, scratching his chin idly. Of course, it HADN'T been intentional, so Mal wasn't a murderer.
Yet.
Ray smiled. It had been ten years since the incident with the nasty bitch and the History teacher. He and his friends had all changed since then. Now they ALL could be classified as 'murderers', although Kazza had been the only one caught so far.
He was due to get out of jail soon, Ray thought, fumbling through his pockets. Yes, yes he was. Parole or some shit. And when he gets out...that is when the fun REALLY begins!
Ray grinned and found what he was looking for. A matchbox, full to the brim of his most beloved. He took one and struck it against the side of the box, seeing the flame flicker into life.
Yes, the fun was only just beginning.
XxX
Kael Simons, a handsome man of twenty-four, was perched on the edge of his seat, waiting for his verdict.
Today was the day, Kael mused to himself, today is the day when I see if I get my parole.
The person opposite Kael was a burly man, of about fifty-eight years of age, and he was frowning down upon a piece of paper with Kael's information on it. His hand hovered above the stamp, which was currently doused in red ink, ready to deny Kael his freedom.
You see, Kael Simons had been in jail for about five years, accused of manslaughter and possibly cold-blooded murder. He had been lucky to escape with manslaughter, but the judge, a harsh-faced woman, demanded he bide his time in prison nevertheless; because she had deemed him 'an enormous threat to society.'
So it was perfectly clear why the officer opposite Kael was not eager to set him free. The officer was not stupid. He knew EXACTLY where Kael would go-back to those freaky friends of his, the 'Ratbags.'
Who knew what hideous crimes they would commit together?
"Mr. Simons." The officer leaned forward in his chair, his expression stern, mingling with borderline disgust.
"Yes, sir?"
"Would you say you have been rehabilitated from your, uh, criminal ways?"
Kael frowned. He had already been asked this question twice before, and every time had had answered 'yes', he had been denied parole. And he didn't believe in that 'third time lucky' bullshit.
"Rehabilitated..." he now murmured. "What exactly do you mean by that, sir?"
The officer looked surprised. "Have you learnt anything during your time here, Mr. Simons?" He tried again.
Kael sniffed loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose as he did so. "I'm not stupid, officer. Every time I say 'yes, yes, I've been rehabilitated,' you deny me my parole anyway. To answer your question, yes, I have learnt some things here in prison. But are the things you want to hear? Somehow, I don't think so." He got up to leave, pissed off that it would be another year before he could apply to see his mates, Ray, Dizzy, and Mal again.
The officer was startled, a first for him. "Mr. Simons, sit back down!" he barked. Kael slid back into his chair, scowling. "What exactly HAVE you learnt here? I don't care whether you think it's what I want to hear or not, just tell me." He waved a hand airily. Truthfully, he didn't want to do this. He just wanted for this to be over, so he could be shot of Kael Simons. He may outwardly act as a 'nice guy', but he had heard thing about Kael Simons, things that most people shouldn't have to hear. And besides, he was a prisoner!
Kael sighed. "I've learnt that what I did, how I've been acting for...hell, most of my life, was absolutely pointless. I've been a dickhead, and I'm not afraid to admit it." The officer looked as though he was about to interrupt, so Kael held his hand up. "Let me finish, officer. I know my chances at getting parole are thin, too fucking thin, really, but you asked, so hear me out, please."
The officer nodded wearily, already wanting this over. "I was more or less born into this world thinking I was the King, and everyone else was rat shit. I know that now, and when I look back on my life, and mind you, I've had a lot of time to do that, I feel disgusted. I feel disgusted at how I was and how I treated most people..." The lies came quick and easy for Kael; he was used to it. "I got bashed a lot when I first came here, and, oddly enough, it made me think about my life and what I've done." That bit, at least, was true. Kael HAD been beaten up a fair few times. That never happened these days, though-he was one of the 'bashers', actually.
"And...I feel like absolute shit about what I've done. I want to get out there, out with all those people, and I want to apologize. I want to get a job, and learn to be a respectable man again." Was he going overboard with the lies? He thought not. The officer seemed to have swallowed every last one of his lies, and, shit, he looked like he was about to cry!
"That's the best defence I've got, officer. Now just get on with it and deny me my parole again, and I can go back to...Hell." Once again, he got up to leave; making sure his expression was one of intense pain at the thought of returning to that shithole.
"Sit down!" The officer practically screamed. Kael, surprised, dropped back into his seat without complaint. The officer stared hard into Kael's face, as if trying to determine where the lies lay. Kael stared back, appearing frightened. "Fuck..." the officer finally said. He tore his gaze away from Kael's, and moved his hand away from the stamp. Kael's heart leapt, though he kept his expression worried. The officer looked down at Kael's paper, and he frowned. "Fuck..." he said again.
"Sir?" Kael asked nervously. The officer ignored him. Kael tried again, to no success. "Sir?"
Again, no answer. Kael shrugged and looked out the window, at his inmates, whom would be staying here, in this shithole.
"Fuck this," the officer said suddenly, picking up Kael's paper and screwing it into a ball. Kael watched him with wide eyes, hardly daring to believe this. The man tossed the ball into an empty bin, and, upon meeting Kael's eyes, said tonelessly: "Right, Simons, you're good to go."
"I can go?" Kael asked weakly. "Seriously?"
"Seriously," the other man replied. "Now, get the hell out of here, before I change my mind!"
Kael was out of the room and back in his cell, only to retrieve his few belongings in a matter of seconds. A guard scrutinized him suspiciously. "Going somewhere, are we?" he asked.
"Yeah," Kael replied. "I'm blowing this joint."
XxX
Desiree had a plan, one she would only reveal to Ray, their leader of sorts, when Kazza was out of jail. That wouldn't be long, she thought. Not long at all. Good old Kazza knew how to bullshit his way out of anything, something Desiree wished desperately she could do-she wouldn't get in half the trouble she did if she knew how to bullshit properly.
"Miss?"
Desiree looked up, and smiled at the newcomer- a young man, barely older than nineteen, she thought, with fashionably messy hair and a ready smile which was somewhat nervous.
"What can I do for you, spring chicken?" She asked, hearing the double meaning in her words. That was not out of the ordinary here-Desiree was, after all, working in a strip club/brothel, and was dressed for it as well, wearing a black dress that seemed harmless at first, but at the back, it was mere fishnet-something that would have surely caught the young man's attention here.
The man was nervous-he was new to this, of this Desiree was certain. But it would be okay. She would show him how to have a good time, all the while wishing for Kazza to get out of jail.
"I, uh..."
Desiree cupped his face in her hands, which were notoriously soft. "It's okay to be nervous," she whispered. Standing up, she somehow managed to make her lips trace all over his neck, leaving smudges of bright red lipstick. The man shuddered, though not in distaste. "There's a first time for everybody."
"H-how much?" He stuttered.
Desiree smiled. "Oh, six-fifty, honey. Since it's your first time, I'll give you half price." She took his trembling hand in her own, and led him into a room laced with silk. There were no other occupants, and Desiree quickly locked the door behind her, so they would not be interrupted.
XxX
The shadows dancing around Melanie Dwyer's room did nothing to soothe her frantic heart, her wild gasps, as she shot straight up in her bed, her face drenched in sweat, majority of her hair plastered to her face.
She had had another nightmare, she realized, as the final, horrific images from her nightmare faded away, to reveal her bedroom-her perfectly ordinary, if somewhat boring, bedroom.
The woman, in her early thirties, sighed heavily and ran her fingers through her hair. She would have to resort to taking a sleeping pill before bed-the nightmares had been bothering her for about three weeks now. She supposed it was because Kazza was going to finally get his parole soon-until he was here, Ray had said that they were not to do anything TOO inconspicuous. Apparently he and Dizzy were hatching a plan.
Melanie slipped out of bed, planning on getting herself a warm milk. Warm milk always calmed her down, without fail. To ensure that no more nightmares would occur, Melanie supposed she would take a sleeping pill with the milk, just to be safe.
She exited her bedroom, flipping on the hallway light as she did so, blinking rapidly to adjust to the abrupt change in lighting. Once that was done, she made her way into the kitchen, turning on yet more lights-it was silly, of course it was, but at the present, being in the dark would only speed her heart up some more. If the lights were on, if she could see, then she could be sure that no remnants of her nightmare would pursue her.
She opened her fridge, poured herself a glass of milk, and placed it into the microwave. While her milk was being heated, Melanie fished around in a cupboard, looking for her sleeping pills. Upon finding the box, she discovered it was empty. "Fuck," she moaned, throwing the box in the bin. Without waiting for the bell to go off on her microwave, she yanked the door open and gulped at the hot milk, burning the back of her throat slightly. She began to cough and splutter, dropping the mug on the floor, which promptly shattered.
Ugh. Melanie felt like shit, and more than likely looked it, too. She got to her knees, sweeping the broken mug into her cupped hands, placing the remnants into the bin.
God. She wished Ray would ring, and tell her that Kazza was out of prison! She hated not doing anything!
Sighing heavily, Melanie trudged downstairs, flipping on lights as she went. She needed something to do, and doing what she did best-toxic botany-seemed like a good place to start.
As she entered her basement, she turned on yet another light.
XxX
Ray was happy, no, MORE than happy. While his friends were doing what they did best (fucking and planning), he had received a phone call, from the very person he'd been hoping to hear from.
Kazza.
Kazza was out of jail, on his parole!
Ray grinned. Now, at last, the fun could start. He picked up his phone and punched in the numbers he'd been dialling since sixth grade.
XxX
The phone rang, and Melanie, jittery, started and let out a small yelp, looking around wildly before realizing it was the phone, and not an intruder. Nevertheless, before she went upstairs, she snatched at a knife and hid it into her pocket, the fingers of her left hand curled around the handle tightly.
"Hello?"
Melanie's voice sounded faint, not with fear, but with eagerness. Almost as if she was EAGER for a robber to be present.
In a way, she was. Her knife was coated with a poison, one so strong; it would feel as though you were burning alive, should any of it get into your bloodstream. It was a new poison, one that Melanie had discovered herself, and she was eager to try it out.
"Mal? That you?" The voice on the other end was unmistakeable. It was Ray!
But of course it was. Seldom did people ever ring her; she was a scientist, and scientists are rarely at home to answer such calls.
"It's me, Ray. What's going on?"
"You're not going to fucking believe this," Ray said, and it sounded as though he was smiling, wherever he was. Melanie waited patiently; it was not rare for Ray to have one too many drinks-she suspected that he was drunk. She could almost SMELL the alcohol on him! "Guess who just got his parole?"
Melanie gasped. "Kazza? Are you fucking KIDDING me?"
"Nah, I can't bullshit nearly as well as Kazza can. And besides, since when have I ever lied to you, Mal?"
"Never," Melanie breathed. "But, Jesus, Ray, I just can't believe it!"
"You better start believing, babe. Get dressed and meet me at the Hideout in five. Okay?"
He hung up before Melanie could say anything else.
XxX
Desiree was just accepting the young man's money when the phone rang. She apologized profusely, saying that she needed to answer it. The young man shrugged and walked away, no longer nervous.
"Hello?"
"Dizzy? That you, babe?"
It was Ray. Of course it was. But why was he ringing here? He was above using brothels, apparently. Unless-
"Yeah, it's me. Is that you, Ray?"
"Sure is, babe. Guess who just got out on parole?"
Desiree's reaction was remarkably close to Melanie's. She swore and gasped and then finally asked if Ray was joking. He wasn't known for bullshitting, but he WAS known to play the odd practical joke here and there.
Ray assured Desiree that no, he WASN'T bullshitting, that it was all true. There were more screams of delight from Desiree, drawing a few confused looks. She ignored them.
"Say, babe, can you meet everyone at the Hideout? Kazza's gonna be there, too."
Desiree assured Ray that she could, that she was on break anyway, and that she'd apologize to her boss later. Ray chuckled.
"Honey, you won't be going back to your job. Kazza and I, we've got a plan."