Ex Nihilo

She’s the beauty in most classical, most expected way – bright blue eyes and sharp cheekbones, hair dyed ginger to match her temper and personality. It borders on red, almost, but Mathis was never really big on hair colour anyway. When it comes to women, he was never really big on anything.

But she was more peculiar than other girls, had more endurance to her and could keep up with her. All the girls he’s dated before were just that, girls, and they claimed they could love him and love his lifestyle but words are one thing. Living this life and not imagining it, it’s entirely other.

With his singing career having ups and downs – and going downwards more than it did upwards, anyway – and him trying to stay out of the public because of his previous sins, it was kind of hard to find a stable girlfriend.

Not that he wanted it, not really. But his mother did, so he kept Anya Zielinska as a pretty trophy to show around. To say – look what I’ve got. The success in life means nothing after all, because all women are after is a pretty face.

And now his fake-ginger fiancé is scrolling through his messages, a scowl painted on her face.

“Why admit this?” She’s almost shouting now, and he shushes her before she can continue. The neighbours could hear – the walls aren’t exactly paper thin but they’re not isolated either. “Why confess to cheating when you know me. You know how I’m going to react!”

In truth, he doesn’t. He’s not sure, really, because he feels as if though he’s known her once upon a lifetime. And don’t get him wrong – Mathis didn’t cheat on her because he didn’t feel they connect anymore. Oh, they do. He just—he just didn’t really want to bother being faithful. It was as easy as that.

She grips the phone in her hand, the video of him and another woman playing on the screen still. Behind her, the TV is on as well, something about murders going on. Serials, they said, and they were savage, bodies dumped in the sea, very far away from each other, mutilated. She was listening to that just several minutes ago, but now it seems like a lesser concern.

“Because it could get out, you know—somebody could share it, hell, she could sharing and I just... I thought you would want to know from me. And not from somebody else.” He’s bullshitting this and they both know. She seems to be more aware of it than he is, because she’s growing more red and furious with each passing moment, beautiful face contorted in an ugly scowl.

“Don’t lie to me!” And there it goes.

Mathis sighs.

“I just think we should part ways, Anya. You’ve been fun, you know—but even the great sex cannot make up for your shitty personality.” In truth, he just wanted to stop hiding, to be with other woman every night... it was the thrill that he missed ever since officially settling down with her. She was fun to play with – all of them were fun to play with – but they became an obligation as soon as things got serious.

“No.” She says, her statement leaving no room for argument. “You dug this grave yourself. You’re either going to stay with me, or there will be hell to pay.”

Hell to pay, his ass.

“What will you do?” Even as he speaks, she gets up, flings his phone at the wall. It hits hard enough for the display to soundly shatter and then she stalks towards the bathroom. There was a bath set up there, he remembers, because she’s been looking for the right candles in a while. In a day or two it would’ve been their anniversary, but he had business to do so they decided to celebrate tonight.

Was there a better way to piss her off into leaving him that this? He thinks not.

But things aren’t exactly working out his way either. She’s angry, ignoring the bath and instead rummaging through the bathroom drawers, pulling out pills and unlabeled bags and throwing them at his feet, in the tub, in the sink—they’re everywhere, the evidence of what he’s been doing, of what he claims he stopped.

“Do you think these things go away? Do you know how many times I’ve covered for you? Do you know?” Of course he does. That’s what she was fucking good for.

He goes back to the living room, makes the TV louder – their shouting will mingle but that will be it, no concrete noise will leave the apartment, or at least no noise that neighbours will be able to identify.

“Lower it down!” She’s growling still and like this, angry—he’s never seen her like this, he’s never seen this rage. “Lower it right this instant!” Her speech is accented. She’s from Poland. That’s what she says. The accent becomes more prominent the more she speaks, but he can barely hear her over the sound of the news. Strangely, there is already a suspect within the case. The victims have no common points and they, incidentally, live very far off from each other but there is no doubt that the perpetrator...

“Would you shut up for a moment?” He asks, but it’s not the moment he needs. He needs her to shut up entirely. “You will not rat me off! Not to the police, not to anybody!” With what’s going on, Mathis isn’t sure anybody would pay attention at all. There’s a gruesome murderer out there; nobody cares for a petty drug dealer.

Then it hits him – there’s a gruesome murderer out there.

Anya’s skin is nearly white. It doesn’t change the colour when he grips her hands and it doesn’t change colour when he grabs her neck. He shoves her to the tiles, hard, and she slips on them easily, a lot smaller than him. She’s strong, however, a lot stronger than her slim frame leaves any right to be. Despite it, despite being able to push him away more strongly than he expected, she barely splutters beneath the water.

In the background, the TV hostess is rambling on, now louder than his fiancé. The main suspect may be Aceline André, but the police... In moments, Anya stops struggling.

Her pink jumper is ruined, heavy tattoos visible peeking from soaking edges. There’s a line of blood dripping somewhere from her hairline. He’s holding her by the back of her head, at the base of her neck, and there’s tattoo there as well, three words he cannot read because of her hair and calligraphy.

Mathis lets her up, just for a moment. She doesn’t move.

Well. It appears there’s going to be another victim to this Aceline André tonight.