"You finally called me!" Holly snorted over the phone. "Finally! What were you doing this entire time?" Before I could even open my mouth, she continued, "By the way, I want you to know that I majorly meant that apology the other night. I rehearsed it for hours in the mirror so that I could be as genuine as possible." My eyes narrowed.

"Ok-k-kay… ap-pology accepted?"

My face scrunched at that vocal glitch. I hoped she didn't notice.

"So, why are you calling? Are you still sick? Your voice sounds odd."

I took a breath through my teeth. She noticed.

"Um, well, I c-could really use some help, actually. See, I'm in a bit of a fix here and I don't think it would be safe to stay in my neighbourhood-"

"Oh, you want to come to my place? You could've just started with that! Sure!"

"Please, I'll-" I begged, but stopped once I comprehended what she just said, "wait, wh- really?"

"Of course!" she replied in a cheery voice. She lowered her voice and added, "There's that freaky Purple Man roaming about now, heh. Everyone's wary nowadays." What could have been the hint of a smile on my face turned into a horrified grimace. I tightened my grip on the phone.

"Oh, y-yeah, uh, absolutely- um, i-it's so-" I stammered, then guilt clenched my throat immediately. She won't help if I lie. I gave up trying to play along: "Actually, I, um, I really sh-hould confess… um…"

"Yeah?"

"Th-" I couldn't get words to form. "I'm actually, uh…" Someone walked past the phone booth and I ducked my head, tensing every working muscle in my body.

"Well, get on with it- I don't have all day," Holly stated primly. I swallowed the urge to mindlessly search my pockets, instead biting the inside of my cheek and curling my fingers in my belt loops.

"It's me," I sighed.

"What? What's you?"

"Th- I'm the Purple Guy, or whatever," I shot the words out as fast as possible. I could've sworn my eardrums burst when Holly screeched.

"YOU'RE JOKING-"

In a heated panic, I let my mouth splatter a hasty explanation-attempt. It seemed that the faster I spoke and the more anxious I was, the glitchy-voice thing worsened.

"No, n-no, it's okay- don't worry! I'm not d-dangerous! I didn't actually- uh- I d- never hurt anyone, um, on purpose! It's all a- a big twisted prank, actually. A- a fat rumour! A scheme to m-make me look bad! Please understand, Holly. This is why I've been, uh, been acting so strange lately. Uh, being sick, and st-stuff. It's tough. A lot's happened s-so fast, and I've lost-t so m-much."

I looked down at my shoes as if Holly could see my depressing gaze. She said nothing. Or maybe she walked away from the phone- in horror or disappointment, perhaps? I wanted to crumble away like the dust in the wind.

"Michael," Holly seemed to sigh disapprovingly. It worsened the nervous tightness in my gut. Before she could say more, I spoke again, keeping my voice low and slow, "Yes. I've made mistakes. You'd be assisting a wanted man. But please, Holly. I'm desp-desperate here." An idea sparked in my head- a messed-up one.

"I mean, you do care about me, right? Y-you already said it was okay, technically."

I swallowed, my throat grimy and thick with guilt. I didn't want to gaslight her like that, but what choice did I have? Spend the rest of my life in a cold cell with no chances of being normal or getting a date ever again? Hell no.

After another bout of silence, Holly responded, "I don't know if I can trust you. You flirt with me one time, then stand me up, then ask me to stick around, then it turns out you're wanted for murder?"

"I know, it l-looks bad, but-"

"It looks real bad."

"I know, but- please, Holly, I-"

I looked down again, choking back what I was going to add. In my head, Sasha's voice spoke my thoughts: you're pathetic. You deserve to be alone. I wished I never regained those chunks of memories of her. It didn't matter that she wanted to be friends again.

Holly's long sigh started me, "You do know I have standards, right?"

"Y-yes, of cour-rse," I said, halfway believing her.

"You're not… contagious, are you?"

"No," I replied, then added, "I understan-nd if you won't." I couldn't stop now. Holly, conflicted, grumbled away from the phone. Her voice strained with tension when she came back.

"You- hmm… you know what? No, I'll give you another chance. If you really believe that someone like me will be even the slightest bit helpful to you on your crazy train, then fine."

"Thank y-"

"But, boy, disclaimer, if you give me trouble, I will bounce. I will not vouch for you. I have too much to lose. Understand?"

My heart could have flown out of my chest. I didn't actually comprehend most of her words. Nodding, I replied back, "Yes, okay, great- thank you s-s-so much, Holly!"

"You are insane," she gave the tiniest chuckle, then lowered her voice to add, "Don't make me regret this."

"You won't," I scoffed way too confidently.

Before hanging up the phone, we discussed a rendezvous point. I could hardly believe that I got her on board with this. Was she desperate, too? I stepped out of the phone booth, my body lighter than usual. If I had the energy, I would have leapt down the block like a kiddie ballerina. I forced most of my energy into thinking. She can't see me like this. Major no-no. A few blocks later, I found a bin. The me from two weeks ago would certainly not have been caught dead rummaging through garbage- but here I was, dead and rummaging through garbage.

A small part of me wondered how far this opportunity of mine would go- could she fix me? Could we end up together, just like she wanted? Could I live out my fantasy of having the perfect family? I crinkled my nose. Like that's ever gonna happen now.

I closed my fingers around a cold paper bag. The smell that wafted from it should have phased me but didn't. A half-empty cup of melted ice proved itself useful for washing most of the blood off my face and hands. As for the leftover food, it was a breeding ground for maggots. I didn't have an appetite anyway. In the window of someone's parked Nissan, I yet again faced my reflection. I peeled duct tape off my face and realigned it with the bridge of my nose. There was no telling how I really looked to people, considering my warped, static-y vision- which I found myself getting used to- but I knew I looked bad. Real bad.

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To my immense surprise, a little white Hyundai rolled up to the sidewalk. The window rolled down, and smooth blonde curls sprung out. Holly's face smushed into a grimace.

"Jesus, you're horrible! What disease did you say it was again?"

"I don't remember-r," I mumbled carefully with my hands in my pockets. Holly wore a T-shirt today, bearing the phrase "PHAT GIRL" in bold across her chest. I almost didn't know it was her in the car considering she usually stuck to a rather sensual wardrobe- at least, she did every time she approached me before. Regardless of style, whatever she wore fit around her shape nicely. She knew how to dress.

"Well? Aren't you getting in? Or would you rather keep staring?"

"S-s-sorry," I spat out, then reached for the passenger door. One hesitant look told me to sit elsewhere. I climbed into the backseat with inching, calculated movements. The car started off to head down the highway. I watched the neighbourhood blur into rocky landscapes and trees. After a few minutes, Holly cranked up the radio. A song sung of violins filled the car, to which I frowned.

What is this- classical music?

She must have seen my face because of her next words, "It helps me focus. Classical is for the brightest of individuals. Geniuses." For a second, she closed her eyes and hummed with the music. I tightened my hand on the seat's underside.

"S-sure, keeping focus is important, right?" I said. On that note, Holly finally paid attention to the road again. But not before flashing a smile. I took a breath, ignoring the struggling noises my lungs made as I used them.

"It makes sense," she started without context. With my confused expression, she elaborated, "That it's all an idiotic prank. I mean, really, I haven't heard anything this far-fetched since '83, and I don't think that even happened." She scoffed. "C'mon, you? Sweet over-emotional man-boy that does old people's laundry? Killing people? Get real. The worst you've done is cheat, and even that isn't really that bad if you think about it."

That's not the worst I've done, I thought, completely ignoring the emotional-man-boy part. My gut swirled with guilt, but I kept my best poker face. A part of me toyed with the idea of flinging myself out of the car. Holly gave me eye contact in the rearview mirror. I didn't return it for long.

"Plus, if I can help you, we can jumpstart this whole dating thing already," she expressed quietly. I watched her hands caress the steering wheel. My heart clack-clacked with a speeding rhythm.

She's crazy if she thinks we still should- there's no way. Is she giving me a free chance? She must be pitying me.

My conflicted emotions fogged my senses so much that I didn't comprehend Holly's small addition, "Now that some people are out of the way." I shook my head.

"Holly, I-I don't know if I can- Okay, for one th-thing, I look like a Hollywood Halloween monster, not b-boyfriend material-"

"Ba ba ba," she chattered, promptly shutting me up, "hush. I think I know a someone who can fix bad skin health like-" she snapped her fingers- "-that! We just have to figure out what's wrong with you, and we'll get you back to your pretty boy self in no time." I eyed myself in the window reflection. My pupils flickered with a lazy blue, displaying both doubt and foolish hope.

"And, the way I see it- what Ma used to say- it's less about the looks, and more about the size," Holly quipped. I turned my head back to her, being stupid as usual.

"The size of wha… ohh."

My skin burned numbingly as blood attempted to rush underneath the duct tape layers. A flustered smile forced its way across my lips.

"You're fast," I remarked, scratching my hands. Holly laughed. She raised two fingers to pinch them together.

"And you're just a touch too slow, Michael. Really think about it- you have slim chances looking like that. And your damaged reputation isn't going to help, either."

"Yeah, I gue-g-guess you're right," I hated to admit.

"Also, I don't know if I can help with your odd little stutter thing. Maybe it will go away on its own?"

I turned back to the window, my hands on my collar.

I hope so. It's embarrassing.

Holly stalled on a several-minute pause. Following the unique, plucky rhythm of a piano solo, her fingers tapped the steering wheel. I let my heavy head fall against the seat, and I listened to my own orchestra- Tick, tick, thump, thump- the sounds of my bodily functions and the low growls of the car on the dusty road. Outside, the sun flashed between an array of clouds, barely lighting the dull, looming terrain of Springville, Utah.

For a moment, I forgot I was inside a car, and felt like a slow-falling leaf- drifting, unknowing, and alone. Where will I fall?

"How are those little, um, those new pets of yours? Did you get rid of them?"

My weak muscles tensed. Those annoying little robot-baby creatures took over my thoughts. Where are they? I left them, didn't I? I tried not to think about the house and the mess that was left behind.

"N-no," I replied. The guilt thickening my throat rendered speaking more and more difficult. I tightened my fists, telling myself that I didn't care about them, anyway. Traitors. Devils. Brats. Do they miss me?

"I ha-ad to leave," I gave a calm explanation as I wrung my wrists. "They'll be okay without me. If I'm lucky- or unlucky- they might come and find me." A half-chuckle escaped my mouth. Holly, who didn't grasp the situation one bit, doubled over with laughter.

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I followed Holly through patches of dying grass and leafy plants. We stood before a grey-blue apartment building, its structure crumbling and weathered. Holly effortlessly scaled a staircase, then turned and waited for me. I lifted my foot onto the first step. My knees buckled. The railing creaked under my weight as I hunched over. I took a breath. You can do it. It's just stairs. My next leg hit the next step. Holly watched my dragging attempts with a blank expression.

"I got it," I grunted, then heaved my body up another step. Holly studied my every move. On the seventh step, my leg snapped backward. I caught myself with my hands, shaking. I swore under my breath. The staircase had become a cold, sharp-rocked mountain. Everything in me screamed to stop- to just lay down and die. I dragged my limbs up the mountain. I planted my butt on the last step, panting, and adjusted my burdensome legs. Getting on my feet again was another struggle in itself.

"Are you finished?" Holly asked over my shoulder. I turned to face her, tottering forward like a senior citizen. I'm 19, and I need a walking cane.

"Yes," I wheezed, swiping a tear away with my thumb.

"Great," Holly replied with misplaced enthusiasm. Turning back to the hall, she didn't notice my irritated pout.

We stopped at one of numerous ugly orange doors. Once unlocking it, Holly sauntered across the living room like one of those skinny game show girls. A couch, TV, and bookshelf lined the bare walls; a spotless fridge and oven kept the empty kitchen company. I saw not a single family photo or decorative piece anywhere. Unless you counted the sinking stain in the hall corner, that is.

She whirled around and clapped her hands together.

"Ah, your face. You were expecting more?" she grinned. I rubbed the nape of my neck, eventually nodding. I'd expected some kind of fashionable man-cave-but-feminine abode thanks to her expensive clothing tastes. Serves me right for assuming.

The first thing I did was close myself within the safe confines of Holly's bathroom. White light gave a soft hum above me. A few boxes of hair bleach and makeup crowded the space behind the sink. I leaned against the counter and tugged my shoes off. Dirt and debris trickled from my clothes as I removed them. I couldn't look in the mirror. I kept my focus on my skin- how it peeled and blackened at the cracks. Hanging from my chest, a silver disc sparked with a bright red light. Red means bad. I raised my hand. Muscles and glowing blue-purple veins stretched between the ruptures and down my forearm. I accidentally looked at my face in the mirror.

I have to fix this, I declared, clenching my jaw. I have to help myself. My gaze fell to the makeup pile. I looked over my shoulder as if Holly would magically phase through the locked door. Then I picked up one of those little brushes.

I have seen plenty of women use this stuff. I know what I'm doing, I assured myself with lies. After rummaging through the makeup stuff, I found a tin of a powdery substance that I assumed was concealer. Maybe it wasn't. Daintily brushing my face brought a kind of gratification I had never felt before. My cheeks and forehead lightened as I went, going from ill-purple to pale-purple. The ghost of a smile appeared on my face, and I noticed a brighter glow in my eyes. This is working!

Minutes later, the contents of several tins ran out. I traced my face with my hands and admired my "work". My smile and eyes faded the more I stared. Colours didn't mix right or sat in clumps above the skin. I looked like a clown with skin disease. My fists tightened. For a second, I saw a 7-year-old in the mirror with glossy, lifeless eyes. Hope was dying fast.

I'm never going to appear human again, am I?

Imagine if I used to be a microwave, I thought- attempting to cheer myself up- and chuckled with a weak huff. Can I still cook a pizza pocket inside myself? I should have asked Ennard that kind of question. With an exhausted sigh, I fell against the bathroom door.

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Once the sun disappeared, Holly vanished to her bedroom. I stayed on the rough loveseat, lying flat on my back with my legs scrunched against the inner part of the armrest. I hugged a pillow to my chest because it kept the chilly draft from seeping into my exposed torso. My breathing matched my heartbeat- slow and occasionally irregular.

Why doesn't she turn the heat on?! I lamented uselessly. The residents below us caused so much of a racket that I imagine they could have been playing limbo with elephants. I tried to focus on sleeping instead. Eventually, the neighbours settled, and I was alone. The silence amplified my chest's incessant ticking.

After a while, I couldn't stand it. I sat upright and unbuttoned my shirt. My fingers closed around a warm disc, its indicator light burning my palm. I still didn't know what that thing was. Is it my heart? My grip on it became tighter as I considered ripping it out. No, my heart beats. This doesn't do it the same way. After rolling the wire between my fingers for a minute, I let it drop back to its position. It swung back and forth like a pendulum.

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In the hour that I finally shut my eyelids, booming footsteps echoed down the hallway. I mumbled something about Father in my sleep. The sounds grew closer. My heart picked up its pace, but my limbs remained lax and unfeeling. The footsteps stopped. My head swirled with a fogged-up, groggy feeling; it couldn't form a complete thought. I opened my eyes. A massive silhouette stood before me, blocking the light.

"Is that my makeup?" Holly ignored my alarmed shout to ask. "You could have just asked for help, silly boy. It is very clear that you have zero experience." As she stepped back to give me some space, the living room overhead light snapped into my eyes. I rubbed my crusty face and sat up.

Oh yeah, I thought, remembering the makeup-mishap.

"I'd app-preciate some help," I mumbled. Holly gave me a smile. Then she shuffled around the room faster than my tired eyes could track. She slid a suit jacket over her shoulders. She fixed her collar neatly. Her dark business casual accentuated her shape and contrasted her light hair. I tried to picture her as a brunette. She met my wandering eyes, so I averted them to the bookshelf. As if I actually read books.

Basic Law… So You Wanna Be An Attorney… Lawyer's Handbook… Best Court Cases? I don't know anything about Holly after all. Is she really that smart?

I leaned over the side of the couch, careful to not dislocate my fragile bones with any swift motions. A thin, untorn book with a blank spine caught my attention. I've never seen a book without a title or author. Curious, I slid it off the shelf. The new leather felt smooth in my hands. I flipped through the pages and quickly noticed their emptiness. My expression softened.

"I'm off for my shift," Holly announced at the door, "and the store." I waved the book in the air.

"Can I have this?"

Holly thinned her lips.

"Hmm. I don't see why you'd want it. It was an old gift from an old somebody, and it's an ugly colour. Besides, diaries are super middle school." She flicked her eyes up from her nails, adding, "But, sure. Go ahead." She didn't give me the time to thank her before closing the door.

I sat the naked diary in my lap. I knew I didn't read much, let alone write, but I figured I could do something with those pages. People document their feelings in diaries, right? I have a lot of feelings. Once I located a pen in Holly's barren apartment space- a lovely, vivid magenta one- I pressed it to the paper. And I began to write these very words.