Sometime in the night, the bed shifts. Half awake, the bathroom door closing, and a muffled cuss behind the door sobers me from my zombie-like state. Fang is probably just using the bathroom, but I get suspicious from what sounds like a bag zipper opening and a soft *clunk*. Maybe I should check on her just in case, she made it seem like we’re fine tonight, but it’s a complete 180 of how she was the night before. I crawl out of bed, leaving the warmth of the blankets, fuck it’s cold; I should’ve turned that fan off. I knocked on the door, “Fang?” I mumble quietly, no response. 

 

I repeat myself slightly louder, but I’m interrupted by her broken voice halfway through. Is she crying? “Fa-” 

 

“Go back to bed.” The words cut like a knife, cold and hollow yet heavy. 

 

“Are you okay?”. . . No response. I put my ear to the door and hear what sounds like a repetitive clicking until it stops after the fourth click. Fang speaks out again. She must have heard me move closer, 

 

“Go back to bed.” The words were more stern. Yet, she sounded more stable. Less shaking in her voice.

 

“...okay” I feel wrong about what I said last night, but I don’t feel like getting my ribs kicked in again. I walk back over to the bed and find darkness where the luminescent red of my alarm clock usually shines. It’s been unplugged. What the hell is going on…. I walked back to the door, “Did you unplug my alarm clock, Fang?”. . . silence; for some reason, I felt a pit open in my stomach. Something isn’t right.

 

I play mental gymnastics trying to figure out why she unplugged my alarm clock, some fuckin’ prank making me miss school, and why’s she’s being so dismissive? I decided to open the door. “Fang, I’m coming in.” 

 

“NO DON-” the bathroom is flooded with dim moonlight. 

 

She looks like she just saw a ghost, “Fang? What’s wrong?” I step forward and notice a glint in her hand from the moonlight. I feel a rush of cold throughout my entire body, racking my spine up and down. There is silence for what feels like an eternity, only the sounds of our breathing getting louder. My mind races, our eyes locked on each other, filled with pure horror of what we each say or do next. 

 

I break the silence, my voice shaky and fragile “...Fang…?” She stays frozen like a statue. Why would she… I take a step closer, and my thoughts are cut off in an instant as I’m looking down the barrel of a revolver. My heart races, time slowing to a halt as my eyes trace the barrel’s rifling, “FANG, Fang…please…” her arms are visibly shaking, the shiny revolver audibly rattling in her hand, and a lump in my throat forming. I can feel sweat trickle down my face, my arms locked. A million words pass through my head in an instant trying to come up with something to say to save myself. A sorry wouldn’t be enough. After another eternity, and right when I opened my mouth to speak, a clink echoed around the bathroom walls. She dropped it. Thank you, raptor Jesus. I lowered my arms as I instinctively put them up to show I wasn’t a threat. The pit in my stomach only grows more prominent as her sobs ring through the apartment. I embrace her tightly, “Fang…what….” She grips my back, and I feel the warm blood trickle down my back. Maybe it was a good idea I bought all of those shirts after all, but my adrenaline blocks out the pain, and cleaning can wait.

 

She sobs into my shoulder as we both lower to the ground and sit there for what feels like hours. Eventually, I pick her up to her feet and struggle to bring her to the bed. We sit in silence. Only the sound of us breathing shakily is audible. Once again, I break the silence. 

 

“What were you doing…in there?” She’s locked onto a spot on the floor, spacing out. 

 

I hesitantly put my hand on her shoulder. I get a familiar look from last night; pure shock and horror are the only things readable on her face as she snaps to face me. Her eyes pace around, her mind visibly racing, I want to ask what she’s thinking, but I let her be. She finally speaks, slowly coming out of her mania. 

 

“I-” her voice is fragile and barely audible as she tries to form a sentence. It’s like her entire world is shattering with each word, “I wanted them…to pay.”

 

Another cold shock racked my spine as I knew exactly what she meant. I slowly and shortly shake my head, my heart still beating out of my chest. I can see the reflection of moonlight in her tears as they start falling down her face again. From what I can see in the moonlight, her face seems a little less tense than a couple minutes ago.

 

At least she’s calming down slightly now…better than the physical therapy she practiced last night. “Fang…you weren’t actually going to…right?” This is just in my head. My alarm will go off soon, and we’ll go to school together. I come out of that thought to see Fang is tenser. A quick read of her face flashes “guilt,” and my face grows a shade lighter. No tears run down her face, but she’s still audibly crying. I get up to go to the kitchen to get her some water, and I feel her hand grasp my arm, looking up at me from the bed. 

 

“Where are you going?” 

 

I put my hand over hers. “I’m just going to grab some water. I’ll be right back.” She loosens her grip, nodding softly as she shifts her gaze to spacing out again. I slip into the kitchen and grab a couple of water bottles, wishing I had a fridge like Fang’s right about now. 

 

I rummage through the dark kitchen until I feel a plastic film. I grab a couple bottles and return to Fang, looking at the same spot she was staring at when I left. When I sat on the bed, she jumped slightly. She probably wanted to wake up from this as much as I did; I uncapped and handed her a water bottle. She takes a few sips. I’m just glad she wants to drink something right now. She speaks again, her voice less hoarse and clearer, “Am…am I a monster, Anon?” I look into her eyes, or at least what I can make out of her eyes, and think hard about what I’m going to say next. “No, you’re not a monster, this….” 

 

Spears’ voice echoes in my head, “You’re not the only person in the world…” …I think I finally got it. 

 

I think back to everything that’s happened in the past five months seeing the fractures in Fang’s relationships that I only helped to split. Further, I’m sorry, Spears. It’s about time I stone the fuck up. No more bullshit. 

 

“This is my fault, Fang, I should’ve been there for you to catch your fall, but instead, I was just pushing you down further. I pushed you away from your friends and drove a deeper wedge between you and Naser… I’m sorry I failed as a boyfriend.” 

 

She looks at me blankly and hesitantly speaks, shaking her head slightly as if all my words just passed through her. “No…no, this is their fault. All those- those worthless retards at sch-”

 

I cut her off. “Fang!” She looks into my eyes, breathing heavier than before. “You’re right, those people at school are all assholes, but that doesn’t mean you put them to death.” I catch myself raising my voice and try to lower it. “I know you’re so much better than this, Fang. None of this is yours, or their, fault. If you can see something in me that I’m blind to, then you damn well believe I can see so much in you that you can’t see yourself.” I embrace her tightly. “...I love you, Fang, and nothing could change that.” I can feel her tears soaking into my shirt and the pain of the claw marks as the adrenaline finally wears off “This is my fault Fang…”. I catch a tear rolling down my cheek. Fuck, this hurts, but I have to get through this. 

 

She speaks again, softly, “Thank you, Anon…” 

 

After a few minutes of embrace, I hear her snoring with a signature- “snrrrkkkk” yeah, that. I lower her head onto the bed and gently place a blanket over her. Before I fall asleep I should probably get the revolver just in case. I quietly got up, grabbed the revolver from the bathroom, unload it, and hid it deep in the closet where she hopefully wouldn’t find it if she still wanted to…God what was she gonna do? I look back at her and see the tear lines down her face reflecting in the moonlight. She must be so tired... I quietly and gently scuttle my way onto the bed next to her and decide to check my phone before I go to sleep again…the lock screen flashes 5:32 AM, and about 20 missed texts from Naser. The texts are written differently than last night; less desperate, must actually be Naser and not his dad wanting to kill me…all of them are short written, along the lines of ‘where is Fang,’ just written differently each time. I text him, “we need to talk tomorrow.” I fell asleep almost instantly despite the pain in my back and the uneasy feeling that Fang might still…no I trust her. These past couple hours, hell, the past couple of days, have been so much for the both of us… hopefully, that’ll turn around soon.