And here it is. The moment we've all been waiting for. (Or at least ME.) I know it took terribly long. See, this part differs slightly from Part 1 in a few respects, the most prominent one being that I'm not solely writing from Devil's POV any more. Now there are quite a few passages from Nina's POV, as well. And I guess that switching from one POV to another, especially if it's between a male and a female, just made it a bit more difficult for me.

Or maybe these are all just excuses. I'm lazy, what can I say? Anyhow, it's almost finished now, and I can't wait any longer, I wanna post it. So, the usual beforehand.

This story is not as violent as Part 1, so there won't be any need for a warning at the beginning of each and every chapter. If there's anything worth warning about, I'll mention it, no worries. There is still a lot of explicit language, as is my custom.

Disclaimer: Neither Justified nor any of its characters belong to me and I am not making any money with this. (This disclaimer goes for "This is where I come in", too, where I forgot to mention it. Shit happens.)

One other thing I need to say: On August 20th in 2013 Elmore Leonard, author of "Fire in the hole" and indirect originator of "Justified", passed away. A great mind has left the world whose genius will live on forever in the great works he blessed the world with. Hence, I am dedicating this story to his memory.

Enjoy!

The Penny in the Parking Lot: Part 2

The Inside Woman

Chapter 1

"You wanted to leave?"

"I… yeah."

"I think we need to talk."

"So you work for the Dixie Mafia."

"Not sure right now if I still do, but yeah, I did."

"And you… what did you do for them?"

"Sometimes I roughed people up, you know, kinda like, you better get the money or else I'mma break your legs, that kinda stuff."

"And did you actually break their legs?"

"… yeah. Sometimes. Sometimes I beat 'em up. Sometimes I shot 'em. Just hurt 'em. Though, there was this one time where I just couldn't do it. I mean, I'm aware of how pointless that exercise is, just cause I break their legs they ain't gon' start shittin' money, you know."

"But still you did it."

"Yeah."

"But. Why?"

"Cause it got me money. I need money. Everybody does."

"But, like, you could get a regular job, Devil, you ain't stupid."

"I know I probably could, I just… it just wasn't ever an option. I had one regular job, and that was the mines when I was 18 and you ain't gettin' much better when you live in Harlan. I left as soon as I could and just… made my money in crime as it came. I never learned anythin' else."

"So you're a criminal."

"Yes."

"A real one?"

"What d'you mean, a real one? Do I need, like, a certificate?"

"Were you ever… arrested?"

"Well, yeah, of course."

"How many times?"

"Oh, I dunno, a few. I didn't keep count."

"Oh… kay. Were you ever, uhm, in jail?"

"Yeah."

"For how long?"

"Well, the first time-"

"There was more than one time?"

"Yes. Sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. I interrupted you. This is just… this just came as kind of a shock to me."

"I know, and I'm sorry."

"So, the first time."

"…was three months. Physical assault."

"What happened?"

"Guy slept with the first chick I thought I was in love with, and I had kind of a rage black-out and beat him into a coma."

"Jesus. And you only got three months for that?"

"After two months he woke up and dropped the charges. Took a month of bureaucratic mess to get me out."

"Okay. And the second time?"

"Eight months for sellin' dope."

"Oh. Okay. That ain't so bad, right?"

"Tell that to them judges."

"And… what else did you do? I mean, for the Dixie Mafia?"

"I, uh…"

"Devil?"

"I'm sorry. I ain't got no clue how to say this."

"Devil, you're startin' to scare me."

"Maybe you… Shit."

"Devil."

"…"

"Devil, did you ever kill anyone?"

"…yeah. I did."

"Then tell me about it."

"Are you sure?"

"I asked. You said you'd tell me. Now we both have to live with that, I guess. So tell me."

"…"

"I can handle it. Trust me."

"Well… there was this one time. I had to do it. I had no choice. Funny woulda been killed if I hadn't shot those two assholes. Or, at least the one. The other guy was… well, I acted on autopilot there."

"So you had to do it?"

"Funny woulda been killed. I just… if he hadn't been standin' there, I might've not done it, I might've just watched, but Funny was standin' right in the line of fire. I just didn't know what else to do."

"Do you regret it?"

"Honestly?"

"Please."

"No. I mean I hated every second of it, but no, I don't regret it."

"Was… there another time?"

"Yeah. There was. I can't really… uhm. You remember that one time when I came home soakin' wet and totally out of it?"

"Of course."

"I said that I'd had to do somethin' I didn't wanna do that fucked me up."

"Yeah…"

"That was all because of that, what I did. That… murder."

"What happened?"

"I needed to kill a… woman. No, wait, just listen. I was told to kill her, or secrets woulda been told, secrets that woulda gotten me killed, or sent me to spend the rest of my life in a prison cell. And I didn't want neither of that. I know, a better person mighta said, fuck that, I'mma let myself get arrested before I kill someone. But I didn't, and anyway it wasn't the first time I killed someone either."

"How many people have you killed?"

"Eight… a part of me died the first time, I was so fuckin' scared, but it gets easier after that."

"Was it easy with that… woman?"

"No. Hell. NO. It was… I… I looked her in the eyes while she died. And then it hit me. I'd never really understood, you know, what it fuckin' entails when you kill someone, I never thought it through till the end, but right at that moment, it hit me, Nina. It was the most terrifyin', most terrible motherfuckin' thing I've ever done. And I don't ever wanna do it again."

"Do you regret that?"

"I don't know, Nina. I just don't know. I ain't got no motherfuckin' idea about what I'm thinkin' on that. Do I regret it? Maybe? I mean, I know I should, but it ain't that easy."

"No, it ain't."

"Just, I know this gotta be majorly fucked up for you right now, Nina, and I'm sorry I'm just droppin' this shit on you."

"I asked. I want to know. Nothin' to feel sorry about."

"Just don't think I'm a psychopath or somethin'. I ain't Dexter, is what I'm tryin' to say. It, I, I said it gets easier, but that don't make it… easy. It's never… easy. It was when it suddenly started gettin' easy that I had this total mental shutdown and, like, panic attack in my truck on the side of the road in a motherfuckin' thunderstorm. Cause I don't wanna be like that. I don't wanna be Dexter. I wanna be me."

"Does it follow you around? What you did?"

"Every second of every day."

"Will you get over it?"

"Babe, only time will tell."

"God… Devil."

"Babe? Nina? Why are you cryin'?"

"Cause I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so, SO sorry… all this time, I had no idea what you were doin' and how hard it was on you, and now you get STABBED and I spring this big talk on you… GOD. Shit. I'm sorry."

"Nina. Are you scared now? I mean, of me?"

"Not… really. I… I don't know. I just, I'm not sure I wanna talk about this ever again."

"We don't have to."

"But I won't ignore it, either. Or forget it."

"I ain't askin' you to."

"…this is crazy, right?"

"More like batshit insane."

"So… how did you get shot? And by whom?"

"I'm naked, I'm numb/I'm stupid, I'm staying/and if Cupid's got a gun/then he's shooting."

The heat had built itself up until it was too hot to move, until even breathing became a strain, and then, in the afternoon, it unloaded itself in yet another thunderstorm. Nina had anticipated it all day, and she'd known the exact moment it would strike: The sky, already dark, darkened just that bit more, and the wind picked up a brutal pace that would inevitably cost the lives of a few trees in the area. The temperature dropped several degrees, although from where Nina was lying on the couch, watching the clouds rush by like they were in a hurry to get somewhere, she did not feel it. The only thing she felt was Devil's warm body pressed against her back. It was a familiar feeling that had, over night, turned into something entirely new and alien, and still it somehow stayed the same.

Devil was not suddenly another person. He was that same guy that she'd let into her life on a whim, and not once had she regretted it. Nina had always been aware there were secrets going along with that man, she just hadn't been aware to what extent these secrets reached.

Nina Romano was 20 years old when she moved out of her mother's flat. She'd had her job as a secretary for a company that produced washing machines in Louisville for almost a year at that point, but she had been too afraid of the world to live on her own. Barbara Romano, her mother, and Nina had never had a close relationship. Nina had been the product of a one-night-stand with a man Barbara had never seen again, and although she'd never said it outright it was still obvious that she resented her daughter's existence. Knowing that your existence was a resented, regretted mistake did not necessarily do wonders for your self-esteem, as Nina had yet to realize. It was why she thought meeting Nicholas Samberg and moving in with him after only six months of relationship was a blessing that would get her out of her mother's clutches. At the very least it would spare her the yearly summer trips to Helena Valley and the local snobs' disdain.

Nick was a nice guy with a cool job at a local radio station who had a knack for wearing polo shirts, which in itself was not a problem worth discussion. After the first few months of living with him Nina only began to see the problems that really should have been discussed – the verbal abuse that never actually turned physical and still felt like a blow every time Nick delivered one of his barbs that did nothing to strengthen Nina's already damaged self-respect. The uncalled for jealousy, the accusations, the control. She stayed with him because it was easier that way, and because an ugly little thing inside her head and heart had set up camp that whispered to her about how she did not deserve any better anyways, so why try?

It stayed that way for years, and, as life had the capacity, Nina's existence seemingly evened out until her relationship was a normal one, until her mother's hate was just another problem anyone could have had with their parents, and Nina accepted it all, took it in stride. She'd lost contact to most of her high school friends, most of whom had gone to college, something Nina's mother had never encouraged, and made to climb the social ladder. Nina was close to a few of her colleagues, but it didn't get further than having lunch break together. Really Nick was all she had, and she did not think twice about giving him up.

She never did. Not until that one night in August.

Dinner with her mother had been hell, as always. Nina asked herself every damn time why she subjected herself willingly to such torture when she knew the outcome beforehand, because dinner with Barbara always, ALWAYS ended the same way: With Nina throwing some cash on the table in whatever restaurant Barbara wanted to eat at and storming out the doors. Barbara Romano was a pitiable old woman who'd had a child she'd never wanted that at all times been made aware of what a burden she was to her mother's dreams. And still on every Mother's day and every birthday Barbara demanded her daughter's attention and money, saying, "I raised you, I made you what you are today, and you OWE me for that".

The concept of demanding something from someone you were supposed to love, and begrudging that someone the few good things they had in life, was not something Nina could or would ever understand. It broke her heart a bit more every time her mother said these things in Nina's face. And still, after a few months of not talking she would start thinking about how family was family and you needed to stick with that.

Hence, every few months Nina made the same mistake, over and over again. Maybe she was a bit masochistic. At least she couldn't think of another explanation for it.

Nina had told Nick she would be back at around 9 pm. Usually she was able to subject to her mother's abuse for at least an hour and a half. That fateful day, her fuse was considerably shortened, for whatever reason, and Nina was back at Nick's and her flat a few minutes to 8. She opened the door still quietly fuming, tears of rage in her eyes, trying to blink them away before facing Nick who always called her a sissy and told her to suck it up when she was crying. She was so lost in thought she was completely convinced the picture before her in her own flat was just a hallucination, just a bad dream.

It did register, after a few seconds of stunned silence, that the woman currently sitting in Nick's lap was in fact not a hallucination, and that she was also in fact very naked and not just dressed in beige clothing from head to toe. Nick was naked, too. The rest of the story fitted itself together without further ado.

"Nick?" Nina asked quietly, face and voice void of any emotion but blatant surprise.

"Is that your girlfriend?" the naked girl asked then, at the same time that Nick said:

"Shit… Nina. I thought you're gonna be gone till, like…"

It shook Nina out of her coma-like state. "Nick?" she asked again, more forcefully this time. "Nick? What the FUCK. What the FUCK is this?"

"Uh, uhm, uh, I, well, look-"

"Oh, OH, I'm lookin' at you, and all I'm seein' is some worthless piece of shit with a faceless tramp in his lap."

"Baby-"

"Hey now-"

"Get the fuck outta here, both of you!" Nina shouted, and it felt so good, so relieving, because Nina rarely ever screamed, and the rage that had been boiling under the surface ever since she'd left her mother at that table in whatever restaurant it had been that night was overflowing, going everywhere, out of Nina's control. "Out, out, for fuck's sake!"

"Nina-" Nick tried desperately to get a word in, he had to be wondering where the hell his meek, enduring girlfriend had disappeared to.

"Shut the fuck up! I don't wanna hear it, whatever it is…" Nina's voice broke as she couldn't stop the tears anymore. Sobbing, she stood in the living room, while the faceless tramp pulled on her clothes, looking vaguely uncomfortable about the situation she'd caused. She left, and Nick snatched his boxers from the pile of clothes on the ground and stood himself in front of Nina, knowing this was the moment where he only had to say a few soothing words and indirectly remind her that he was all she had, and Nina would pull herself together and be his girlfriend again, because that was how it had always been for the last four years.

And Nina was thinking about it, or at least the ugly little thing inside her was. But this time, it was too little, and too ugly, and Nina just overheard it. She didn't hear anything but blood rushing in her ears. Never in her life had she been this angry.

"Come on, baby, calm down, huh? It ain't that-"

He didn't get any further. Nina took a swing and slapped him so hard across the face he actually stumbled and landed on the sofa, a hand shooting to his bleeding nose. Nina's hand would continue to sting for the next thirty minutes, and it was a pain she relished.

"You shut the fuck up. You ain't never gonna talk to me again. I don't ever wanna SEE you again. I'mma leave now" Nina said, slowly, like Nick was too retarded to follow her otherwise, "and when I come back, you're gonna be GONE, forever, or I'm gonna kill you."

Blind with fury and hurt, she even meant it that way: Right at this moment, she COULD have killed him, without an ounce of hesitation or regret. On her way out, she slammed the door so hard bits of plaster broke out of the wall and ceiling in the hallway, and the resounding bang echoed throughout the entire building. It was as satisfying as the sting in her hand.

That righteous satisfaction started to ebb away as soon as Nina was back on the street. The sun was still up, but the streets were already emptying. Her hand hurt, her heart was pounding, and in a matter of seconds, her entire life had changed. The apartment buildings around her appeared twice as big as they actually were. Nina felt small, and so, so alone. She still had nowhere for her fury to go. Nina herself had nowhere to go. She could not, under no circumstances, go back to that flat now. There was just no way she would be able to stand it without losing her mind. Her mental state had been fragile to begin with. This had been the last straw. Actually Nina felt a bit dizzy. She sat herself down on the front steps for a minute and tried to calm her breathing.

Then Nina stood up. She had nowhere to go, so she just turned in one direction and started walking. She had nothing, and she was headed nowhere, and she felt like she could have just disappeared and it would have hurt nobody, least of all herself.

Losing track of time, she walked several blocks before just sitting herself on the sidewalk, burying her face in her hands, and crying.

It took Nina a long time to calm down. There was too much to cry over, too much to list it all. She couldn't bring an order into her feelings, couldn't decipher what hurt the most. She just felt alone in the world, and cried for herself, for being so stupid to even stay with Nick, to keep in contact with her mother even though she knew it would end up getting her hurt. If the only people you cared about treated you like shit, what was there to do, what reason was there to not have the ground open up and swallow you whole?

The sun was thinking about setting when Nina lifted her head and took in her surroundings properly for the first time. She was sitting on the sidewalk in front of a bar, with a red door and a blue, flashy sign above it that said "Bar". You couldn't get more pragmatic than that. It hinted to an efficiency behind that concept that Nina was more and more partial to. With the kind of night she'd had, a few drinks could not hurt. She rarely drank. She rarely ever shouted, either, and she'd already done one out of those two tonight.

The bar was small, with a few closed-off booths and one long counter currently occupied by a few sad figures that looked as lost and depressed as Nina felt. She just sat herself on one random barstool, next to the guy who was the least creepy, and even he still gave her all sorts of bad vibes. The bartender looked her up and down, deciding she had to be confused to set foot in this establishment that she so obviously did not belong in.

"What can I do for you, sis?" he said after a moment of scrutiny, throwing a dishtowel over his shoulder.

"Alcohol" Nina answered, decisive. "I need alcohol."

"You gonna get more specific?"

"I dunno. Just somethin' with a lot of alcohol. I need to get drunk."

The guy next to her snorted, seemingly having listened in on their conversation.

"Try the bourbon, girl" he said, slurring quite a bit already. "If you ain't got no standards, that piss's da way to go."

The bartender frowned at him, offended. "I think you've had enough, bro."

"Nope. Have not. I still remember." With that the guy tapped his empty glass and lay his head on crossed arms, sighing a heavy sigh. Nina looked at him, had looked at him while he was talking to the bartender, and she saw bruises on his arm and a defeated slump to his shoulders. He had a lot of tattoos, something Nina did not usually find attractive. And was that blood on his shirt?

"I'mma take bourbon, then" she shrugged, and the bartender rolled his eyes, but poured some for her anyway, filling up the guy's glass as he went.

Nina swallowed the whole two fingers of bourbon in one go, coughing afterwards, because holy fuck, it was disgusting, and then asked the bartender for a refill. The stuff tasted vile, but it warmed her up from the inside, and after downing the second round, she felt a little looser already. Breathing became easier again, and she looked at her neighbor. He had his head resting on one bruised forearm, his free hand playing idly with his half-filled glass of brown liquid.

"Are you alright?" Nina asked him, and the guy started laughing, a rough, unhappy sound.

"No" he answered and downed his bourbon, waving for the bartender.

"Me neither."

"What's a hot thing like you doin' here anyway? Half a'the guys still able to see straight are checkin' you out. I'd be careful if I were you… lucky for you, I ain't."

"I wanted to get drunk." It was all the explanation Nina offered, and he didn't ask further.

"Hi, I'm Nina" she said on a whim.

"Okay."

"D'you wanna talk?"

Snort. "Bout what?"

"I dunno. Just, you look as lonely as I'm feelin', maybe we can help each other out."

"I doubt it."

"We can try."

He shrugged carelessly.

"So what's your name?"

"Devil."

Devil snored once, loudly, behind her, pulling Nina out of her trip down memory lane. She remembered that night like it was yesterday, all that pent-up anger and devastation she'd felt. Nina had only had sex with Nick up until that night. She'd had no idea how it would be with somebody else. But she'd been so angry, and so hurt, and feeling so reckless, that she'd thought she would be willing to try.

Hence, after about an hour of slurred conversation, she'd decided to take that creepy, tattooed guy who called himself Devil and was desperately trying to forget something home with her. Of course the night was a mess. He came very quickly and fell asleep on top of her, and Nina wondered what the difference was. But in the morning, when Nina met the sober Devil in the sunlight and noticed that, not only did he have a gunshot wound to the side, but also he had beautiful, vibrant blue eyes and an endearingly crooked smile, and the tattoos looked good on him, too, she was convinced she'd made quite the catch there last night. He had to think the same because he invited her to a second, proper date. And then it all just went from there.

Nina felt Devil's deep, regular breath against her neck as he slept. They'd been up until 7 am, doing nothing but talking, Devil basically telling her his entire life, only leaving out details that would have endangered Nina, and Nina was still shocked that Devil had details that could cost somebody their lives in the first place. There were quite a lot of things Nina had learned that shocked her still. But at the same time, she was aware that Devil was not suddenly an entirely different person, just because now she knew more about him.

Nina knew she should be afraid, because when the man you've declared to be your boyfriend, the man you've let into your home, life and bed, confessed to be a murderer of eight people, that was what you should feel: Fear. Repulsion. And to a certain extent, that was what Nina felt when she thought about the idea of murder.

But the keyword here was: IDEA. Because that was what it was. Just an idea. Until you either committed it yourself or were present while somebody else did, murder was just an idea, an abstract image of ending a life and enforcing what nature would eventually take care of herself.

So until Nina witnessed Devil actually doing it, she was not able to really grasp the idea of him being a murderer, for it, albeit a fact, stated by Devil himself, was nothing but an idea to her and she could not help but distance herself and the man she was with from this. It was pure ignorance on some part, and Nina knew it. But did that automatically make it wrong?

Nina and Devil had fallen asleep in the early hours, and Nina enjoyed the time she got to spend with him after he'd almost left the night before. She'd taken several days off from work, and now she was glad about it. They'd spent most of the day in bed or on the couch watching nonsense TV, without any sex, though, because Devil was seriously injured. You didn't get forty-two stitches to hold your back together and just bounced back from that a day later. Most likely that was why he had fallen asleep again; Nina recalled Devil telling her about how, in the weeks after he'd gotten shot, he'd spend all of the time he did not work or eat with sleeping, and that he guessed his body had just needed the rest to heal.

It was not just Devil's body that needed healing, Nina saw that. So the first girl he had been in love with had cheated on him, as well. It was good to know her and Devil had that in common, it meant they would likely never be cruel enough to do that to one another. They were damaged goods, she reckoned, although with all the baggage she was carrying around, Devil was still far more damaged than her. All the things he'd told her, and as terrible as most of them were, the only thing that really got through to Nina was how helpless and alone and terrified Devil had to have felt while going through them.

Rain drummed on the windows. Nina grasped Devil's hand that lay loosely on her hip, carefully so he wouldn't wake up. Maybe he would never fully heal again, but Nina hoped that at the very least she would be able to help it along. He'd helped her in that short time that they'd known each other, more than he would know. All Nina wanted to do in that moment was to somehow return the favor.

You noticed the changes? This chapter was essentially entirely from Nina's POV, and there was a flashback in there, too. I've wanted to try something new, and the initial idea I had for The Penny, before I decided to split it into three parts, which made that idea invalid, was to tell the entire story in flashbacks. (I know. It wouldn't have worked out.) So, when I started brooding over how to set up Part 2, I had the idea of delving into Nina's past, letting her tell her story, and also memorable moments of her life with Devil from Part 1. That's what the flashbacks are for. This Part is after all called "The Inside Woman", and that woman is Nina.

This is also the first time I've written anything in italics for this site. I just thought, if I really do flashbacks that have actually happened three months in the past, they should be clearly differentiated from the present actions. I converted my M-Word documents into OpenOffice, cause, you know what it says in the notes on compatible files, that OpenOffice is highly recommended. I'm curious to see how that works out.

Thanks for reading. There's plenty more to come!