The Descent

Chapter 16: Screams in an Alley

I am Hit-Girl. I am Hit-Girl. Am I? I couldn't believe the thought myself. All these thoughts – what were they? Were they just fantasies, or were they memories from before the bus accident? Dave would always say that I would remember things, but he would also call me a confused little girl. Am I really Hit-Girl? I felt like her, and yet I didn't. I returned the picture to the wall and looked at it for a while, but I wasn't convinced. I returned to the mirror.

I pulled my pistols out. I had great difficulty in doing that. I didn't like touching them. I had trouble unpinning the holster, at first, but they were out seconds later. I posed in front of the standing mirror, the way Hit-Girl was posing in the photograph. I held the pistols such that they were pointing up, like a cowboy I saw at the toy store. I looked exactly like her. Except my arms were shaking. I hated the pistols. Dave said they were bad, and I would shake a lot when I hold them. I was afraid of them. I remembered things, things about what pistols could do. They were loud, and they could hurt people. I didn't want to hurt people. I was frightened by the thought. Was this how Hit-Girl was like?

Let's go fishing, honey bunny. I returned the pistols to their holsters, gladly. I didn't even like the colour. They were purple. Well, I did like purple but blue was always with me, and blue reminds me of home, and Dad and… Dave. I liked blue better. My arms were shaking so much that they felt lethargic, but the pistols weren't heavy. They were small, unlike the guns in Big Daddy's locker. I had a lot of trouble putting back the pistols into their holsters. Am I really Hit-Girl? Was this how she was like? My arms were aching. Time for some janitorial duties, Hit-Girl.

I felt compelled to go out this way. Fishing. Janitorial duties. Big Daddy stopped the Demoness from doing whatever she wanted to do to me in the basement. Big Daddy was helping me. Dave said he was helping people out there – I was still wishing that at least that was true. Was I supposed to help people too? I felt the urge to go out there. I turned to leave the apartment, but before I went through the front door, I saw a raincoat, no, a jacket… trench coat thing hanging on a hook. Disguise. It made sense, I don't know why, but then I suddenly knew why – my cheeks felt hot. I knew I would be embarrassed walking out this way. People would be looking at me. So why am I going out this way?

I wore the trench coat over everything. Checked if my cape was poking out. It wasn't. Checked if anything was poking out, anything that would embarrass me. Nothing. There was a hood, so I pulled it over the purple wig, which was still dusty. My nose felt like sneezing, but couldn't. I removed the mask and threw it into a pocket. The trench coat was also a little dusty, but not too much. It felt different when I stepped out of Dave's apartment place. It was scary, as if I'd done something wrong. It felt wrong – it was wrong to carry around knives and pistols with me. Half-way down the corridor, I wanted to run back and return everything into Hit-Girl's locker, but I kept going down the corridor, the elevator anyway.

Later…

I didn't know what to do when I was out of the old apartment. For a while I walked. Then I saw a bus, so I just took it. It felt right somehow. Even with my trench coat on, people were still looking at me in the bus. They must have seen my purple wig. Purple hair was really rare, but people do dye their hair purple – right? "Kids and men these days…" I heard a woman sitting in front of me mutter to herself. I couldn't understand what she mean.

I took it down to another part of the city. I didn't even know where. There weren't as many people there. What was I doing? What was I thinking? I started walking again, just walking. Looking for people to help – That was what I was supposed to be doing, right? I still couldn't understand what did fishing and janitorial duty meant.

I had to sit down a lot of times. The boots were heavy. Everything I wore was heavy. I was aching everywhere. It was hot. Am I really Hit-Girl? I kept asking that question as I wandered alone in the city, in some place I didn't even know. What does it even mean that I am Hit-Girl? What does Hit-Girl even mean?

Then it came from the alley. The screams. It sounded like a woman. At first, I was afraid. Alleys were scary. I remembered waiting in one for 10 minutes, for Dave, and I remembered all the sounds I heard in an alley. They were smelly. But the screams sounded just as afraid as I was. I thought I heard it crying for help. I am Hit-Girl, I help people, like Big Daddy and Dave – That was all I knew. So I ran into the alley.

There was a big man inside. He was so much taller than me. He was fat, like a monster, and he was wearing a singlet and jeans. There was a woman on the floor, and he was trying to take her furcoat off. I hid behind a dumpster. I didn't know what to do – the man was huge, and I was so little. He was a man, and I was a young girl. But a woman needed my help. We're not animals, baby doll, no matter how much you want to be Hello Kitty or a puppy, A voice said in my head. It was God, or Dad, Size has no meaning, sugar. You know what has meaning? "What?" I couldn't help but to ask, even though I know that there was no one with me. The brain, the heart, the skills, the guns and knives. There's a lot of meaning in those.

I put on my mask and pulled off my trench coat, leaving it behind the dumpster. I walked up to the huge, fat man. He was bald too. He was still tearing off the furcoat off the woman. My feet felt heavy because of the boots, and I think he heard me that way, because he turned around. His face looked scary, even worse than Dave's when he slapped me that time. I was shaking. I felt the sudden need to go. "What the fuck do you want, kid!? Just scram or I'll bust your head in!" His voice sounded like the thunder during a storm. I hate storms because of the same thing. I felt like running. I was already taking steps back. Am I really Hit-Girl? Then I saw the woman, who lifted her head to look at me. There was blood on her forehead. I wanted to scream at the big man, but…

"Let… let her go." I stuttered. I didn't dare to look up at him. I was looking at the ground instead. "Please." Am I really Hit-Girl? I could hear the huge, scary man laughing at me, laughing hard. I felt like crying – Or am I making a fool out of myself? What have I done?

"Or what? You'll beg me again? Fuck off, kid, before I fuck you up too!" The big man snarled, coming a little closer at me, growing bigger and bigger with every step. I couldn't help but to shrink away, so that the man would stop growing bigger. What do I do what do I do what do I do? I wanted to run, but I couldn't. I was supposed to help the woman. Do the unexpected, darling. Do what normal girls won't do.

"I said let her go, you big meanie!" I snarled back as I stopped shrinking away. I looked straight into his eyes. I was angry at him, angry at what he had done. I remembered hating the mean bullies in my school. Dave was right – there were people bullying others out there in the city. I pulled my combat knife out. I wasn't even thinking anymore, but I held the knife underhanded – was it supposed to be that way? It felt right. For the first time, the man's face stopped being scary for a second. I thought he was scared himself, but it became scary again very quickly.

"Yeah? Go ahead, you lil' cunt, let's dance!" The big man in singlet dared me. He was beckoning me to come forward and hurt him. He swore a lot. I hate it – I would never swear. It made me hate him even more. I wasn't thinking anymore. I ran forward and tried to stab him in his fat belly, putting both my hands against my knife's handle. I was still shaking a lot. But I couldn't hit Big Meanie. He jumped to the side, and before I knew he wasn't there, I felt PAIN exploding in my hip. He kicked me, and I was thrown at the wall. It was hard. It hurts. Hurts like nothing before. I wasn't thinking. I didn't stop. He was coming at me, and I spun around, tried to cut him in his fat belly again, but he dodged out of the way and kicked me into the wall again. I felt like fainting. I lost my knife that way – my hand felt weak, and I couldn't hold onto it much longer.

"Taekwondo, bitch! Brown belt! What about you!?" The big man shouted victoriously. Do the unexpected, darling. My throwing knives. I drew one out and threw it at him, but it missed. I was shaking too much. I threw another, and it hit him in the chest… on its flat side, "Comic books!?"

The big man rushed at me, grabbed me by the arm, and twisted it. I could feel my shoulder and elbow burning. I couldn't move. My arm felt like breaking off. He pulled me off the wall and into the middle of the alley. Then he let me go, but when I turned around, he kicked me in the face. White, I saw white everywhere. I felt like flying – I was flying backwards, but not for long. I felt myself landing hard on the floor. PAIN everywhere. I felt myself squirming on the floor – I didn't feel in control anymore, not even over my own body, "And that's me pulling back on you, baby fuck!"

I was sitting up when he came at me again. Do the unexpected, darling. I pulled out one of my purple pistols and pointed it at him. My pistol arm was shaking wildly. The gun shook. I could hear it shake. The big man backed away with his arms up, fearful again, "You cheap-shit fatherfucker!" I HATED IT WHEN HE SWORE. I tried standing up. I could barely. My legs were shivering. Pain everywhere. Everything in my eyes were blurry. I could almost hear ringing in my head. I couldn't hold my pistol with a single arm anymore, so I used both my arms. Even then, they were shaking so much.

I thought I was winning, but then the big man started chuckling, "You know what I think? I bet that's just a God-damn toy, you shit!" He said, coming forward at me again, his arms not as high up in the air as they were. He was coming closer, growing bigger, and bigger, "And even if it's real, you don't have the guts, you bitch!" SWEAR. He was coming closer. I was scared of the man, but I was also scared of the gun. I remembered (from where from where I don't even know!) that they were loud, and they could hurt people, and hurting people is bad, "Look at the way you're shaking! Yeah! I bet you don't have the guts!" He was smiling, and his smile was scary. He looked like he wanted to kill me.

He got closer again, and then lunged at me. I pulled the trigger. I did. But nothing came out. The trigger was stuck. And the reason came to me too late. SAFETY. It was the thing called safety. The big man fell on me, and took me down to the ground with him. On the ground, he was on top of me. He was heavy. So heavy! I couldn't breathe! He had his hand over my right hand, which was where I held my pistol. I couldn't hold on to my pistol. My hand felt so weak because of the shaking. He took it from me and threw it away. I was crying, crying so hard. Am I really Hit-Girl?

He was on top of me. I couldn't breathe. "You know what? I don't mind getting two for one today! Since you think you're such an adult, I'm going to fuck you like an adult!" He was shouting over me. I couldn't understand what he was saying, but what he said terrified me. It sounded like he meant he was going to hurt me, hurt me bad. It sounded like he was going to torture me. Then I remembered my other purple pistol. I struggled to pull it out. It was hard. He was on top of me, and he was pulling at my tights. He was trying to unzip me!

I reached inside below us as I was struggling to not be unzipped at the same time – he was a pervert! I struggled to unpin my holster, and at the same time I was screaming and thrashing. Managed to unpin it at the same time as the big man pulled off my cape. I jabbed him in the stomach with my elbow, but it didn't seem to hurt him, and then pulled my pistol out. SAFETY. The perverted big man flipped me around. I couldn't stop him. He was too strong. He unzipped my tights, revealing my vest underneath. I managed to off the safety on my purple pistol. It was… the word was 'live' or 'hot'.

As he was struggling against my vest thing underneath, I pressed my second purple pistol into his fat belly, my pistol sinking into his belly. He noticed, and I felt his hand closing around my second purple pistol. I fired. It was LOUD. I fired again. I was scared, so scared. I was crying. Crying as I fired. I fired again. Three times. I fired three… four times. My ears were ringing.

The big man looked shocked, very shocked when it happened. Then he stood up, finally leaving me alone. He stood up and backed away, holding his belly as BLOOD was pouring down. I saw… long, red things gushing out. He was shocked, and so was I. He backed away, looking more afraid than I was, then fell to the ground, no longer moving. This time, I really couldn't help but to cry. Pain, pain everywhere. I couldn't stand up, and I was a mess, with my cape aside and my tights unzipped down the chest, my vest nearly hanging out. I cried hard.

I killed a man, I killed someone, hurt someone with a pistol. Dave said it was bad, and now I knew for sure it was it was bad really bad what did I do? Oh God please forgive I didn't I thought I was helping he was on me he wanted to hurt me I had to do it!

But I couldn't stop no I knew I couldn't stop for some reason everything I 'knew' I didn't know where they come from I took my things put on my jacket and ran, ran for it, ran hard, leaving the woman behind I remember her looking shocked even if she was saved even she knew I had done something ghastly my God am I really Hit-Girl am I really? I ran, until I was far away. My mile-long run in the park helped a little, but I couldn't get away a mile away. I felt pain all over my body. I felt… ravaged. I vomited into a storm drain. I couldn't help it – the pain, the nausea, the perversion, the confusion – I couldn't help it. I felt sick.

I stopped at a woman's room later on, and hid in a cubicle. I cried inside. Equipment check, sugarplum. Another idea came. I needed something else to do, so I did it. 2 throwing knives – couldn't… couldn't find the one I missed with. 1 com-combat knife, 2 pistols, vest, cape and tights still… still good. I adjusted my wig. It was slightly askew.

I might have fallen asleep inside, or fallen unconscious. It felt like some time had passed when I woke up again. I didn't feel any better when I woke up. I decided to return back to the old apartment after that. When I stood up again, my whole body felt like glass cracking. It started aching all over. I had to walk slowly. I had to wash the blood from my face or people will stare. What will I tell Dave and Dad?

Later…

By the time I got back to the old apartment, it was midnight. I must have fallen asleep in the woman's room for hours. I could barely walk anymore when I got back. I fell on the benches in the kitchen when I was supposed to change. I felt like dying, and I had killed a man today. He was a meanie, but it felt so wrong – I felt so dirty, just as bad. I felt evil, like Demoness. I felt sinful. Was this how I was like before the bus accident? What have I done?

CLICK. The front door lock opened by itself. I sat upright. What is that? I couldn't understand the sound until I hear the door open. I was jumping inside and out. What do I do what do I do what do I do? My heart started racing and I started panicking. I grabbed the dress I left on the floor and bolted for the kitchen counters. I could hide well – I found out when I first followed Dave into the old apartment. I hid under the counters. I could hear footsteps. Heavy footsteps.

…

When I came into the apartment, the lights were on for some reason. My initial thought was intruders, but then I couldn't remember if I had switched off the lights or not, so I thought it was me. It had been a long day – admin work felt a lot more harder to do compared to the patrols or even the special operation we had at Jimmy Kim's. No wonder it was impossible to catch Superman doing his own personal admin work, though you had to wonder – so who's been crunching the numbers on the Fortress of Solitude and everything? In reality, being a superhero meant being a superhero at multi-tasking too.

I went into the storeroom to get changed – I could use a good night's sleep, though Mindy automatically filled in the void that Justice Forever left in my mind. She didn't even want me around anymore – as much as I was glad that she could manage on her own, I couldn't help but to feel a sting in my chest. I couldn't help but to speculate – was she giving up on me? Loneliness returned to haunt me quickly as I changed in the storeroom. I felt like a hopeless case in a noir film.

After getting changed, I went to the kitchen and sat for a while, on the bench, remembering that first week I had with Mindy. Going around the kitchen counters, I went to the fridge, which I switched on ever since I started using Safehouse F – the electricity bills paid for via Mindy's suitcase of three million dollars. Grabbed a diet Mountain Dew. It was tight around the counters, so I drank on the bench instead. It was only when I was half-way through that I was resolved to try to warm up to Mindy even more again – need I explain the reasons?

After I was done, I threw away the can and headed out – thinking of the possibilities of what I could do to get Mindy to open up to me again, to give me another chance.

…

I flew into action the moment the light was off. I had to change in the dark, and put everything back in place after that. And when I was about to leave, I forgot that I had to wipe away the blood and muck on my Hit-Girl uniform, which I quickly did. Dave had left, and he was returning home, which meant that I had to be home as well. But the more I thought about it, the more futile it felt, because Dave had left the old apartment better than me, and he was a better cyclist than I was.

I had to think of a good excuse as to why I wasn't home. For my whole trip back home, I had to think of something. But I couldn't. When I was home, I found the lights off. Dad was supposed to be on night shift, but Dave… I had to sneak into the house.

Peeking in through the window, I saw that Dave wasn't anywhere on the first floor, so I returned to the front door and unlocked it as quickly and quietly as it could. It creaked as I opened it. Dad hadn't fixed it. As I came up the stairs, I heard that the shower was on in the bathroom. Dave was taking a bath. I went into my room, into bed, hoping and praying that he did not check my room before I went into it.