Rated: M [R] for violence, adult situations, foul language, drug use, and mature themes.

pt. 11 §§§

There would be no blood, Needy insisted. She had seen enough blood when stabbing Jennifer to death. There would be no more.

"Then it has to be pills," Xaviera said, "but they are expensive."

"How much did you pay for text books last semester? I know I forked over a Wall Street bonus to get mine."

"Oh, I see, babe. We won't need text books next semester, so that money will pay for the pills."

Needy smiled. A foxy smile.

"You are a sly one, babe," Xaviera said, proffering a tender kiss.

The arrangements were made; and one cold night, the girls went to the park.

In the park, big rocks lined the banks of the river. There was one spot where a large flat rock jutted out into the water. It could accommodate two people. Xaviera and Needy spread a blanket on it. The hour was late; the park was deserted—cold and empty like a cemetery before dawn. The lights of the city sparkled and danced on the surface of the water like Christmas lights. Sporadically, a chilly breeze blew across the black water. While Needy opened the bottle of wine, Xaviera took the pills from her bag. She counted out some of the pills and gave them to Needy, who washed them down with big draughts of wine. Then Xaviera took some pills and swallowed them down with wine also. With wine still on her lips, the dark girl leaned in and kissed Needy more tenderly than ever before; then each girl took another round of pills and wine. They hugged each other and waited to die in the embrace.

Needy slumped first. Xaviera, lethargic and groggy, felt her lover become heavier and heavier, and she managed to lay her down on the rock gently. Panic seized her, however. Needy was gone, Xaviera didn't want to be left behind alone for a moment. She fumbled in her bag and found her straight razor, opened it, pulled up her sleeves, and slit each of her wrists as deeply as she could. Then she lay down partly on top of Needy. Her blood ran in a little stream and dripped into the dark water.

Shortly after sunrise, a male jogger passing the rock saw the blood in the water and, with a trembling hand, dialed 9-1-1. The fire department paramedics arrived first. Carrying their equipment, they rushed to the rock and the prostrate figures.

When the police car arrived, the paramedics had been working for eight minutes, watched over by the middle-aged jogger, with an expensive watch on his left wrist. A man with three stripes on his sleeve got out of the car, put on his hat, and slid his night stick into its holster. Quickly he walked over to one of the paramedics kneeling beside a victim.

Despite the chill of the morning, the smell of wine, blood, and vomit was strong.

"What do you have, Mike?" the police sergeant asked the paramedic.

"Looks like a double suicide attempt."

"Haven't had one of those in a while. Usually they're murder-suicide," the sergeant said. "The ambulance should be here momentarily."

"Good," the paramedic replied, standing up. "The dark one over there is gone. Cold. We couldn't do anything for her. We saved the blonde here—I think she'll make it."

"So young," the cop said, looking down at the girls.

"So young," the paramedic repeated, snapping off his light-blue latex gloves. "So hopeless."

The End.