The Descent

Chapter 18: Stake Out

I woke up in the morning feeling a little better. The medicine Daddy gave me tasted horrible, but they helped, just like he said they would. It ached a lot to move, but I could move. It felt like after the first time I went jogging with Dave. When I looked out the window, it was still dark, but I knew it was morning. The clock said so: 4 o'clock. I didn't feel like getting up so soon, especially when my body still felt so achy from waking up, so I thought about the previous day – Daddy took care of me when Dave went away to help the city.

He told me stories, stories of when he was younger. He said that I used to have a mother, but she died long before the bus accident, before I could meet her. He showed me a picture of her, which he took from his own room. Her name was Alice Lizewski. She looked a little like Daddy, with brown hair – Daddy was all fatherly, and the Mommy I never knew looked so motherly, I wanted to cry when I imagined her with me, and how I would never know how it was like to be with her.

But it was funny, how I never thought about what happened to my Mommy. It felt as if having Daddy and Dave was natural without Mommy. It felt as if I never had Mommy to begin with. Daddy was tearing up as well. I held his hand, and he told me that I was a sweet little girl, his sweet little girl. Daddy was nice. When it was dinner time, he brought food up for me in a tray, setting it on my lap. It was when I was eating that he brought up some surprises.

HELLO KITTY POSTERS! And a few more Hello Kitty hairclip after I told him I broke the last one he brought. We had some great fun choosing where to put the posters. It was hard to decide where to put them, and we spent some time on it. "I love you, pal." He said after pinning up the last one.

"I love you too, dad." I said to him yesterday, even though I was sick and weak, and did it again this morning when I thought about it. I got up, my back and hip still on fire after getting kicked there by the perverted big man two days ago. Putting a hand on my forehead and I realised that my fever had broken. I didn't feel woozy or nauseas. I was fine again. Looking out the window, everything was blue. It was my favourite colour, coming close to pink and purple.

Instantly, when I was on my feet again, I thought about going back to the old apartment. It was calling to me again. But at the same time, I was reluctant. I didn't want to get hurt again, and then lie to Daddy and Dave about my sickness and injuries. I remembered my thoughts about how wrong it was to kill a man, but… I remembered the blood, the red things coming out of his stomach. Yet… I started doing push-ups again. Then a new idea I had – sit-ups and pull-ups. I could only do 6 or 7 push ups, about 10 sit-ups, and not even one pull-up. But I didn't hurt myself. Dave told me I was weak, but it felt like a lie, and even then, it was a lie I was comfortable with – as long as it wasn't a new one, it felt like Dave couldn't hurt me anymore.

I wanted to make up to Daddy and Dave, for taking care of me and for me lying to them, so I hopped into the bathroom and went through my morning routines as quickly as possible, before flying down to the kitchen. Every time Daddy and Dave made pancakes, I would watch them. Now I know what it took to make pancakes. I remembered the ingredients, and somehow, even the numbers came back to me – I was good that way at remembering things. It was funny when I looked back at myself weeks ago – it was hard for me back then, remembering things.

When they came down for breakfast, I was just about ready to present them my handiwork. My pancakes were a little charred, but they looked almost like theirs. I even made Dad his favourite coffee and Dave some hot chocolate. I imagined putting in some marshmallows – a crazy idea – but there weren't any marshmallows in the kitchen. They looked surprised when they saw me setting down the plates. "You'll make a good housewife." Dave joked as he sat down, but I knew it was what Daddy and Dave would want for me – to get married to a good husband, among other things. The idea didn't feel thrilling, at least to me – it felt wrong and right at the same time, to feel that way.

Later…

Dad came home just before dinnertime, and brought us out to a restaurant. We had to wear formally, and I found myself in a bare-shouldered blue dress. I was a little shy, wearing it, but at least it wasn't the Hit-Girl uniform. It brought the whole family together – Dad was not working the whole day, and Dave was not out somewhere in the city, helping people as I still like to believe. Dad said he had something important to tell us. I couldn't imagine what it was, but Dad seemed just as energetic as he used to be on the first week we met.

"I'm afraid there's going to be a few changes, kids." Dad said gravely. His face reminded me of a boulder, like the ones I saw in science class when the teacher would show us a documentary about geography. That was a little boring, but Dad was keeping me on the edge of my seat. It sounded horrible, "Just like back when mom passed away." It sounded really horrible.

"My working hours are going to change, and everything. You see, kids," He continued. The dishes came – I ordered a kiddy burger meal, but I didn't pay a lot of attention to it when daddy was talking. But then, a smile came on, but I was confused by it, "I've been promoted." It took me a moment to understand, but I did. Promotion. I knew that word, but it didn't come as quickly as simpler words.

"That's awesome, Dad." Dave congratulated, a wide smile on his face. I just smiled. Dave had said what I wanted to say. I took a sip from my blueberry milkshake.

"After one decade of being a supervisor – Manager. I'll be working office hours. 9 to 5." Dad explained. It took me a little time to absorb it all, but I felt my mind… lubricated a little. Supervisor. To Manager. 9 to 5. Okay. 'Going out as Hit-Girl – harder' I couldn't help but to think, and it was then that I couldn't help but to think about everything Hit-Girl. The man I killed, the woman I saved. The pistol I fired, the blood I shed. The pain – the pain, then there's the pain… "I'll get to spend more time with you guys. All thanks to you, Mandy." I felt his hand on my head, but the headache in pain my brain murder was kill even red stronger. I blood clutched my blade forehead. "You okay, buddy?" I didn't hear him at first, his voice taking longer to take hold of me, but when I did, it pulled me out, out of that alley where I killed a man. I smiled at disembowelled him. "Must be your accident on Wednesday. You should get in bed early tonight, sweetie." I nodded at killed him.

The headache didn't last. It faded away gradually. But when I picked up my knife and fork, my knife hand was shaking away, so I put them down, and just used my hands instead. Dave was still looking at me the way he always did – worried and a little afraid. He was looking at my mouth, I noticed as I bit down on my burger… and tasted something metallic, ironic. It was blood. Dad took the napkin on his side of the table and wiped my face, just below the nostril. I was bleeding again. I tasted my own blood, but somehow it felt alright, alright somehow. I was used to the blood. "I'm fine… Dad, thanks." I just said, and continued eating. I could still feel Dave's eyes drilling into me. What, Dave?

…

2 July 2011, Saturday

Dear Diary,

When Dave went away again, I didn't feel like going back to the old apartment. I'm still aching. But I am Hit-Girl, so I trained on my own when Dave was away. I did it in my own room so Daddy wouldn't see me. I couldn't do a lot, but I kept getting ideas on how to strengthen myself. I find it hard to believe that I am Hit-Girl, but when I kept getting ideas and Déjà vu like this, it became easier, and easier.

What I did in that alley would not have been done by anyone else. I can't imagine the girls in my class doing the same thing. They couldn't live without perfume, and they would positively die in an alley before even encountering the big man! They would complain about sweating and make-up all the time. I overheard some of the boys talking about it. They called it 'bitching'. SWEAR.

Sometimes, even now, I feel like giving up on being Hit-Girl altogether. Everything I love and cared about was right here, at home. It didn't feel like it mattered what Dave was doing outside. It just didn't matter. He loves me. I love him. Isn't that all that matters? I don't mind his lies – what could they do? My name still felt weird, but I like my name. Daddy and Dave would say it with so much love. I still couldn't remember much past what they told me. Yet… My dreams and nightmares…

Then Demoness came again.

…

"You're losing focus there, girlie." I heard her say when I was doing my homework in bed. She frightened me, because I did not expect her there. She was leaning on a wall just beside the door. I turned to her. She helped me before, but I was still afraid of her, especially when she would come close to me and touch me, "Giving up already?"

"This is just the beginning, you know." She continued. I didn't look at her. I continued adding, subtracting, multiplying and dividing fractions, but I couldn't concentrate with her beside me. She had gotten up beside me, running a finger down my spine, sending shivers the same way.

"The beginning of what?" I said as sternly as I could. I wanted to try to stand up to her, but she just chuckled at me. It was as if she enjoys seeing me angry.

"You want to know where he's going, don't you?" It wasn't even a question anymore. She knew exactly what I wanted, no matter how much I tried to stop thinking about it. I didn't say anything. I multiplied two fractions wrongly. I tried the question again. I could feel her entire hand on my back, going down, and down, lower. It made me angry. I pushed her hand away and sat up, glared at her – it felt good when I did that, so I glared at her. It felt like it would make her go away, but she laughed all the same. She was never afraid, "You get the feeling that there's always more, don't you?"

"More what?" I asked as sternly as I could. She was starting to play with my hair. They were growing longer. I had to tie it into a very tight bun when I put on Hit-Girl's purple wig. I froze as I could even feel her cold hands before they touched my face, before she cupped my chin in her hand.

"You know what I mean, girlie." Demoness said, and immediately it sprung to mind. LIES. Dave's LIES. More LIES.

"You're LYING!" I sprung to my feet, pushed Demoness and her lies away, "You're lying! Dave won't lie to me again! He won't!" I was shaking. I was angry – she was saying bad things about my brother. He wouldn't hurt me again.

"So go see for yourself, girlie." Demoness said, too calm as she was leaning on the wall I pushed her to. I balled my hands into fists. She came closer again. I hated her for saying what she said, so I punched her in the cheek. It didn't seem to hurt her. She would just laugh, but a trickle of blood was coming down her nose. Blood was also coming down my nose. A small trickle. I wiped it away, but when I looked up again, Demoness was gone.

…

3 July 2011, Sunday

Dear Diary,

We went to church today. I prayed at the giant cross. I prayed for forgiveness for hurting and killing the big man, even if he wasn't a good man. Pastor Harkman said that hurting and killing people are wrong. It was even written in the bible. I didn't pray for anything else. Dave told me to pray only for bigger things – and I don't believe that Dave would hurt me again. God or Dad did not appear – I don't even know who the blonde man I have been seeing is anymore. But I did feel a little better after praying.

Dave did not break his promise this time. Sal drove us to the cinema today. He promised Daddy that he would take care of us. Daddy trusted him, and Sal is my friend, so it was okay. We watched Cars 2. Something weird when I watched it. Déjà vu. It felt like I watched the movie before, but at the same time, I did not. Dave said that the film was new, so I didn't watch it before. But Lightning McQueen, that red car, sounds familiar.

Sal took us to a nearby diner after that. He is a nice man. While we were eating, he asked about me and Dave. It was nice of him to try to get to know us better. He told me about his own family, how his parents died when he was even younger than Dave, and how he would fight with his sister but still, they love each other in the end. I think I understood what he was trying to say, even if he didn't know about me and Dave. We both told him the good things and left out the bad stuff. Sal is a very good friend. He didn't even need to try so hard.

I think I understand. But I need to know more about Dave, about what Demoness said he was hiding from me. I love Dave no matter what – I understand now, in my own way, and in the way Sal told me. I love Dave, and I needed to know what he was doing outside – what if he needs me? Why is he hiding things from me? Dave won't hurt me again.

…

4 July 2011, Monday

Dear Diary,

I went to the old apartment again. But I had to lie about doing a project at Pete's place (it was for a good cause so don't judge, diary!). I started exploring Dave's secret place again. There was a storeroom that I think Dave would go in. When I went inside, I was shocked by the contents. There were guns and swords and knives and clubs on the shelves inside. There were hundreds of bullets. Then there was a large suitcase thing on the floor with a green rubbery suit. There were two sets in the suitcase, as well as yellow gloves and boots that are a little shorter than mine.

But I was looking for something else. I needed to follow Dave, so I was looking for disguise. Hit-Girl had a trenchcoat on the front door, so I thought – and believed – she had more things to disguise herself with. I found them in a bedroom, in a cabinet. Hair colouring, make-up, spectacles, all kinds of clothes. I took a few things. When I came home, I hid them in my cabinet. Not even Dad would open my cabinet. He wouldn't even touch my clothes, especially underwear, after the washing machine. He said it was inappropriate.

…

5 July 2011, Tuesday

Dear Diary,

I've been sneaking into the school gym to do more exercises. I've feeling a lot better, and I was doing a lot better. It felt natural to me, exercising. I had ideas. I started doing sets of everything, but I couldn't do too many, like 2 sets of 10 push ups and sit ups (if the last few ones could be counted) but only 2 pull ups. The pull-ups were the hardest. My hands would hurt a lot after I fall down.

I did stretching. I saw some cheerleaders doing it, so I tried it out myself. It felt like I needed it, but I did it at home, because I was a little shy. And when I tried to do it, stretching felt the easiest to do unlike the pull-ups. It felt as if I was that stretchy even before I knew about it! I couldn't do a split yet though – that one was tough, and it hurts!

I wish I could run more though. A single mile was becoming too easy for me, and Dave wouldn't even let me overtake him! He said it was dangerous because something might happen and he won't be able to reach me in time if he was too far away. It makes sense, I guess.

I've been trying on different disguises for tomorrow. I locked the door to do it just in case. When I looked into the mirror, I could barely even recognise myself! I would colour my hair black, put on coloured lenses (it was difficult to put on contact lenses! I spent an hour even with the instructions, and it hurts sometimes!) and fake spectacles, a dress and then the trenchcoat. I was good at hiding, but I couldn't imagine that I was good at disguising myself too. Was it because Dad and Dave had been encouraging me to dress and put on make-up for the past month? It felt like it.

…

6 July 2011, Wednesday

Dear Diary,

Dave was dressed in the green rubbery suit. He had weapons on him. He wore a vest that reminded me a little of Hit-Girl's, and even a helmet. I remembered a green angel in my dreams, with wings of silver and fire, stopping the bad guys from taking me. Was Dave that green angel? Did he save me? But it was a dream – can it be real?

I followed him. He didn't even notice me. When I was in my disguise, my eyes were amber in colour, and I had black hair and spectacles. I even had a cute little mole on my face, and I was in a trenchcoat, something I normally won't wear. I followed him up a bus, and then into the city. But there was some place I couldn't follow him into. It was around the back of a building, and there were these steel doors which he disappeared into. I kept waiting, and waiting, but he wouldn't come out of there again. What could he be doing in there? I waited for half an hour, and then gave up and went home.

But in that half an hour, I saw people in costumes going in. They didn't look evil. They were superheroes, and so was Dave. When Dave said that he was helping people through the Good Samaritan Hotline, I would never imagine that he would be dressing up like a superhero – like the Buzzard I saw the first time I went jogging – to help people.

…

7 July 2011, Thursday

Dear Diary,

Dave wasn't supposed to leave today, so I followed him again, with the usual disguise. I did it like the last time. Except this time, Dave went a different way, and he wasn't cycling. I had to follow him into and out of a bus…

…

Miranda Swedlow. That was Nightbitch's name. Her name was a lot more pleasant than I imagined – but then again, the more I learnt about her, the more I expected it. She was a ballet dancer since young, before turning to teaching ballet. She played the piano and violin, but dancing was her first love, at least before her sister was murdered, and now becoming Nightbitch was her lover, hotly contesting ballet, husband for more than a decade.

We agreed to meet up at a diner. She wasn't exactly an uptown girl, and I was nowhere near Bruce Wayne in any way. It started out awkward. I came in early, so I took a seat waiting for her. Turns out, she was doing the same thing, and when I called her, I heard her voice simultaneously on the phone and just at the next table. Well, some humour to start the day could work too.

Later…

"So, aren't you going to tell me about Dave's lovely little sister?" Miranda started on the after-dinner subject in her own sweet way, the way she was leaning gracefully on an arm, her voice swaggering in a way that could never go wrong. She was beautiful with or without the mask, but without the mask, I could safely say that I was in love.

"Er- Where do I begin?" It was a sudden topical change I wasn't used to. My mind worked on overdrive, going back in time hours, days, weeks, shifting through thousands of pictures. In the end, I took out my cellphone and figured that I should start with Mindy's picture first. Passing the phone to her, I anticipated her reaction – I've had too little experience with girls to tell what she would do next. It was almost like watching Da Vinci Code.

"She's…" But in the end, Miranda wasn't as explosive as I predicted that she would be – put my expectations down to being exposed to a ton of Mindy, but even Mindy's girlishness was running short lately. From a mixture of playfulness, lust and love, my girlfriend's eyebrows went the opposite way, "She's beautiful." It was then that I realised that I had made a serious mistake. How could I have forgotten? Miranda had lost her sister to a murderer not too long ago, and I brought the subject back from the dead last week. I was starting to feel like a born bachelor. My punishment were tears and snot from the famed Nightbitch herself – I had broken one of the most prominent members of Justice Forever accidentally. Good job Dave Lizewski! "She's so beautiful."

"Oh God- Shit, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-" I stumbled, setting off a few Colonel Stars and Stripes in my head – being used to being in Justice Forever with Nightbitch had its merits or demerits, depending on how you look at it. Yeesh! Language, the Colonel in me would say. Or: Yo, don't take the lord's name in vain, for one with a religious touch.

"It's fine, Dave." Miranda said, her voice almost cracking. She wiped her tears away, manning up quickly. She was admirable in costume, but more so now, "I'm sorry. Let's just talk about your sister, not mine." An awkward pause. I didn't want to just talk about Mindy anymore – I'd opened Miranda up, and a lot came up. She, on the other hand, needed time to calm down and think. I hate awkward pauses.

"How is she like?" Miranda finally continued the conversation. Her eyes were a little red, but she was otherwise fine. Something told me her strength was hard fought over months of uncontrolled grief. We were a match made in heaven that way. I could relate.

"Well… Mandy's a lot of things. She's smart, she's gentle and loving. She's a real girl." I went on to describe Mindy with words, words that still wouldn't fit her no matter what. Oh, and by the way, she used to ambush drug dealers. She enjoyed shooting and knifing them and generally fucking them up for the greater good. Expect one f word or the other every five minutes from her, but she means well, "She clings onto me tightly, and I need her too. She's a responsibility I take seriously, I guess." Yeah, because I helped kill her biological father. Oh, and don't forget the best part! I. Drove. Her. INSANE. Took a year for her to recover, yeah, a year, and even then, she's not herself anymore.

"Lucky you. Sounds like a perfect family you have there." Miranda said enviously, her position I could understand quickly – her parents were both dead by one diseases or the other that even her entire family fortune could not cure, and her sister was buried in the worst grave possible, where the trash was

"Actually, it's not all flowers and sunshine, really." I said, trying my best to be humble, putting things a little too mildly. I didn't want Miranda to feel the way she did. This time, the truth was on my side at least, for once. "We had lots of argument. We even fought once." It felt elating, spilling everything to someone not within the family. Heck, even Dad was oblivious to most of the bickering between me and Mindy because of his job, though his recent promotion to a manager in his security firm would fix some of that.

"It's only once. My sister and I used to fight all the time. We just made up in the end." It was obvious that Miranda does not know. I continued spilling everything – I had to. It felt like the light at the end of the tunnel, except it wasn't that corny, not for me. It was a chance for me to stop being a lonely antisocial. I spilled everything about Mindy – starting with her discharge from Jameson Psychiatry Institute, her memory loss, the threat of her relapse. Naturally, I touched a bit on her being Hit-Girl and Demoness. It was unavoidable. I remembered crying, when I kept telling her that I was afraid day and night that she would relapse. It passed in a haze – I needed Miranda's light at the end of the tunnel.

By the time I was done, her eyes were no longer red, and the grief on her face was replaced by overwhelming surprise, her mouth wide half the time. She knew about Hit-Girl and Demoness, everyone did, but just a few minutes before, she did not know that her new boyfriend's adopted sister was Hit-Girl and Demoness. She tried to speak, but words did not come out. In the end, I paid for the bills and took her by the hand out of the diner. I could sense her doubting me, and I'm not sure if I was being paranoid around people anymore. I needed the surest way I know to convince her.

Outside the Diner…

I watched as Dave finally went out of the diner, taking a woman with brown hair with him. As I waited patiently, leaning on a lamp post, I remembered a new word – 'Stake Out'. I was doing a stake out, and I was staking out Dave. Together, they boarded a bus, and I went in just before the door closed. The bus captain shouted at me, but I didn't care. Warily, I walked past Dave and the woman he was with. Brushing past next to them – Dave did not notice. I sat down in the backseat. I kept staring at them. I could almost make out what they were saying, but it was hard. There were a lot of people talking, and the bus engine was loud.

'Where are you-' I heard Brown-Haired Woman said. 'You'll see.' Dave replied. It was easiest to make out what Dave said. They didn't talk anymore after that. The three of us sat silently in the bus. I kept staring into the back of Dave's skull. What are you hiding from me?