Les Oiseaux de Mauvaise Augure

Should I still go to work?

"Of course."

But, what if someone breaks-

"What? You want to be home if someone breaks in? Silly girl."

But, I get home when it's almost dark and what if someone is there and I don't know it until it's too late? What if it's Vengeance and he's come for me and he's going to burn me alive? What if it's Shadows and he rapes me and stabs me? What if it's Synyster and he chokes me and beats me? What if-

"Shut up. You're giving me a headache."

You're in my head.

"Maybe you sleep walked."

I've never sleep walked before.

"There's a first for everything."

Not everything, Jimmy.

"Well, you never know."

Right. So, I should call the police.

"No, no, that's not what I meant. Charity, you don't have time to call the police. You have to go to work. Dealing with the police is the last thing you want to do."

Why should I take advice from you, of all people?

"I'm in your head. Right?"

It was a back and forth battle between the different parts of my brain. And, logic, as usual, lost. I didn't call the police. What could the police have done anyway? I pretended like last night didn't even happen. I took the bus for the first time to work. It only took me to about a mile away from the station. I walked the rest of the way.

I'm an idiot in all senses of the word.

I immediately regretted taking the bus, and I promised myself then and there on the side of the road that I would never in my short sad life ever do it again. Except on Sundays.

"I told you."

Nuh-uh.

"Yeah-huh. Idiot."

I was sweaty and out of breath when I got to work. My plans had backfired completely. Again.

There were two cars in the drive way, which was different, but not entirely unusual. I walked into the station, shouting out a quick greeting only to be met by silence. I put my bag down by the couch, glancing around the empty room with raised eyebrows.

"Hello?" I called out again. "Joey, Lucy, where are you guys?" I heard a bit of what sounded like mumbling in the other room, so I walked over to the door. I knocked twice. "Hey, guys." I opened the door and suddenly the mumbling I heard turned into sobs. Joey was on the floor hunched over a girl's body. Lucy's body. He turned around. His nose was crooked, and blood was wet and dry on his face.

"A-A-Anna," he sobbed out.

"Oh my God," I gasped out. I rushed down to him and he reached out to me. His hands were covered with blood.

"I couldn't call my phone is dead. It happened so fast. And I couldn't stop it. I tried to catch him. Anna, she's d-dead. She's dead. My sister is fucking dead!" His voice cracked a little. I didn't know what to do. He tried to hold on to my clothing, his body shaking. Tears streaked his face and he gasped out sobs. "I couldn't stop it. He killed her! I couldn't stop it! I was too late! She's fucking dead!" I looked over Lucy's body. Her eyes were lifeless and glossy and wide and green, staring up at the ceiling. The wound in her stomach had stopped pouring blood which made me wonder how long she'd been dead. The blood was pooled around the deep gash, though.

"Joey," I started.

"I didn't know what to do." He sobbed again. "I didn't know what to do." I wrapped my arms around him, keeping him close.

"Oh, Joey." My ears started to ring. Joey held me tightly. His body shuttered endlessly.

There were no monsters in the room. The lights were on. It was freezing.

-*-

The blood on Zacky's hands was dark, turning a copper brown color as it dried. It made his pale white skin stand out. He stared at his hands, turning them over and over again slowly. He felt his skin start to itch and suddenly his arm spasmed, lifting up and away from his body which also shifted without warning.

His arms and legs and fingers and eyes would twitch every now and then. He couldn't control it. It happened every now and then when he stopped really thinking about it, or when he thought too much. He blamed it on the side-effects of the hospital's meds. And, the side-effects alone. That's it. That's all. End of story.

The van was loud and clunky. The floor in the back was cold and the grooves in the floor were filled with tiny pebbles and broken glass. Zacky could feel it pressing into his jeans. His back was leaned up against the seat which was taken up by guns and papers. More important.

Zacky was tired again. The adrenaline had worn off. Merely looking at the blood that covered his hands made him sleepy and bored and hungry and he wanted to go home. The blood made him start to think and remember.

He wasn't supposed to kill that girl.

He was supposed to kill that boy.

But, he didn't.

He fucked up again.

His legs twitched, sending what felt like a shock up through his stomach. He felt it deep in his chest. He felt so uncomfortable.

But, when he killed the girl, it felt the same. Her eyes weren't as fulfilling as he thought they'd be, but they'd sufficed. He felt rather cheated because he had to leave before he saw the light leave her eyes. Because the stupid boy was a fighter.

One of the Jersey kids, he couldn't remember his name, had been waiting in the van outside. He was supposed to have been his look out. Ha.

There was one car in the lot. He assumed it was the boy's.

He'd get in, kill the boy, get out. Bam. Done.

Why?

Don't know.

Other than the simple fact that this would be Zacky's initiation back into the gang. His coming home party. What fun.

He didn't know who this boy was or why he had to kill him, but it's what Shadows wanted. And, what Shadows wants, Shadows gets. Duh.

"Should take me ten minutes tops. Honk if there's someone coming. Keep the engine running." Zacky slammed the door shut with those final words to the driver. His gloves were simple- a new pair that he found lying around the van. His old ones, black leather, had been left in the fire. The ones that he wore were a black, flimsy polyester material. The kind you would find at a costume shop.

He walked to the door, glancing over his shoulder instinctively. No one. He opened the door slowly, keeping it quiet. He walked inside slowly, closing the door behind him. He looked the room over once and moved towards the back room without a thought when he saw no one. As soon as he walked into the back room, he noticed a girl hunched over a chair, not actually sitting, typing on a laptop placed on a big brown desk.

"Hey, Joe, the ratings are in again. Better than we thought. Did you bring-" She looked up to meet Zacky's confused face. She gasped. "Oh, I'm sorry." Zacky cringed.

"Who the hell are you?" The girl looked at him in surprise, a look of distaste obvious on her face.

"Excuse me?" she asked with pursed lips and a raised eyebrow. Zacky sighed.

"Where's, uh, Joseph, uh..." He snapped his fingers trying to remember. "Cross. Where is Joseph Cross?" The girl crossed her arms across her chest, popping out her hip.

"Well, who wants to know?" Zacky sighed again, frustrated.

"Fuck," he muttered. He licked his lips, reaching into his coat pocket for his switchblade. "Sorry, lady." He took it out opening the blade. The girl's expression turned to horror. She uncrossed her arms, slowly holding them out in front of herself.

"Wait, look, what do you want? Whatever you want, please, just take it." Zacky shook his head.

"It's not that simple. Really, I'm sorry, lady." He lunged at her and she screamed getting in a good right hook as he stabbed the knife deep into her stomach. She gasped and gurgled. He tried to get her to the ground gently, but she was still fighting. A door suddenly shut loudly.

"Hey, Luce!" A man's voice called out. Zacky looked up with shock. The douche outside didn't honk and he just stabbed this lady two seconds too fucking early. How annoying. "There's some weird van outside across the street with the engine running. Fucking creepy." Zacky's arm twitched again, but the knife was still inside the girl's stomach. She gasped as it was forced upwards, slicing her stomach further. She tried to speak but it came out as gurgles. Zacky swore softly, standing up. Just as he stood up to his full height, the door opened to reveal a taller man, tan and muscular.

"Fuck," Zacky said louder this time. The man's face matched the girl's horrified expression. Though, his quickly turned into a twisted, angry expression rather quickly.

"What the FUCK?" he roared. He came at Zacky, wrestling the bloody knife out of his hands. It flew through the air, hitting the ground and sliding underneath the big brown desk. Zacky threw a couple punches at him, landing most. The man was quick with his punches, but Zacky was quicker to dodge. As soon as Zacky hit the man in his nose to break it, he had to run. His chances of getting the knife back were slim to none and the man obviously knew what he was doing when it came to fighting.

Zacky left the man, retreating to the van. He cussed out the driver, who merely laughed, as soon as the van sped off down the street. He fell to the ground, taking off his gloves carefully and throwing them at the door. He inspected his hands. The blood had seeped through.

He clasped his hands together, bringing them to his chest. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to focus. A wave of nervousness hit him.

How badly would Shadows punish him?