Maverick's POV
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Head rested back against the cars headrest, I stare at the roof.
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The cars parked but I'm still battling with blacking out.
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I can't feel a thing.
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Lilliana thinks I don't do drugs before getting my priorities done.
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I'm never really here.
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To me, the world has no sound; how I like it. OxyContin, Lortab, and a lot of fucking weed make that so.
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Lilliana doesn't know me. I'm a fucking monster.
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But I try to be good to her...
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Everything about me changes when she's near. I conjure up every bit of humanity I have left and use it to save hers.
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I fuck up everything I touch. I figured if I didn't ever get physical with Lilliana, I wouldn't ruin her. Now I've learned there's always a way to fuck something up...for some reason I always find it.
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She was so sad and couldn't shake it. I just wanted to help, not dig her grave deeper. I thought maybe if I gave her a period of euphoria, I'd be able to see her smile again; genuinely smile.
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It was selfish of me.
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They say it takes one time...that what you don't pick up, you don't have to worry about putting down...
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But at the time, I didn't know she wanted to die...I was clouding my mind with hopeful thoughts of her and the way her mind works. I prayed it was situational sadness that sent her into such a dark place...not because she's consumed with the same depression I am.
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I fed her that first pill.
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It's a tough pill to swallow...to know that the likelihood of her current state being because of me...is extremely high...
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So I take a few other drugs with it, washing it down with self loathing.
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Facts are; I know what drugs Malachi holds, what he gave Lilliana. They aren't anything I haven't given her before. Problem is; if Lilliana begins to find other dealers, I lose all control over her inventory. In the depths she's in, she'll overdose and die on purpose.
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Lilliana is the only reason I haven't put my nine to my head...though I still like to pretend sometimes.
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I'm pissing away my life. The saddest part is that I don't mind it too much.
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The tap against my window brings me out of my thoughts. Not but a moment after, my door is swung open.
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"Don't crash out yet." Malachi says with an amused smile, opening the car door further and taking a couple steps back with it. "We've got work to do, Maverick."My dull expression is returned with a broad smile. "And there's no rest for the wicked."
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Malachi is right.
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I'd hate for the body in my trunk to rot there.
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I hunch over the steering wheel, reaching down and pulling the lever to pop the trunk open. Malachi gives the door a smack, ushering me out before he disappears around the back of the car.
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Stepping out, I rub my palms along my face before dropping my hands down, allowing my vision to clear.
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"Travis should be doing this part." Malachi comments through a grunt as he scoots the man's upper body towards the edge. His limp arm falls out, hanging loosely by the license plate.
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"Travis wouldn't know where to begin." I point out, reaching inside the trunk and grabbing the man's ankles as Malachi pulls him out by his hands cupped underneath the body's armpits.
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It is true...Travis, the man we work for, isn't one to get his hands dirty. He's what we like to call 'a watcher'...someone who won't kill or participate in the clean up, but will take great pleasure in watching either be done.
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Travis is a lunatic...
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Like us.
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"Don't you have something you want to talk to me about?"
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I look up from the dead body we're carrying up to Travis's house. The laughter in his eyes confirms what I think he's referring to; Lilliana.
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"Right now?" The bright light floods the porch, sending a pressure onto my eyes. "You want to do that now?"
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"I was so curious as to why you hadn't introduced me yet." He tells me, dropping the man's upper body down to the hard wood of the porch with a thud.
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I let out a puff of breath as the weight shifts, making me have to get a better grip on his ankles.
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"Of course I know why now." He chuckles, grabbing ahold of the man again as his foot kicks open the door behind him.
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I ignore his hint, saying without saying that Lilliana's looks are why they haven't met.
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"She doesn't need to know anything, Malachi." I tell him. "I don't want her finding anything out."
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"Like what?" He asks, going backwards into the house. "That before you set the world on fire, you want to kill everyone in it?"
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I give him an expressionless look, kicking the door closed again behind me as we enter fully.
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"Yes."
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"Well, Maverick..." Malachi smiles confidently as we pass through the hall. "In a fleeting moment with her, I got impression that she wouldn't be opposed to participating. The little lady is under mass suffering."
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"So why add more?" I retort, dropping the body down onto the tarp on the kitchen floor. It crinkles beneath our feet, making light popping sounds as the strangers dead weight settles into it.
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Malachi snatches a whiskey bottle up from the bar area in the corner. He sets a glass from the shelf down with a clank.
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"Why do you do it?" He asks, pouring the liquid into the glass. "Because it makes you feel better; it lessons your own suffering just a bit...by inflicting it on others." He answers his own question.
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I kick the man's legs apart. I do the same to his arms, extending them out away from his body, not bothering to look at Malachi as he goes on.
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"But most importantly..." he raises his glass as if to cheer. "It keeps you from killing yourself." He drinks it in one gulp. "Lilliana needs a purpose, Maverick."
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"So I motivate her to go to college." I argue as I grab the trash bags from under the sink, dropping the box at the man's feet. "She can find a healthy passion and make a career out of it."
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"Yes..." he nods, taking the handsaw from the counter and coming to stand on the other side of the body. "Because shoveling pills down her throat is the most efficient way to get her there."
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Malachi hands me the saw before grabbing a pair of scissors from one of the kitchen drawers.
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Kneeling down, he cuts the dead man's shirt down the middle. Malachi then removes the shirt completely before doing the same thing to each leg of his pants.
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"Let's face it, Maverick" He begins, tossing the clothes into the garbage bag I'm now holding open. "Your life would be far lonelier if Lilliana fell onto the right path...that's why you keep her right where she is, yes?"
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Dropping the bag down, I shake my head. "Fuck off, Malachi. Just because I've told you a few things and you've met her once doesn't mean you know what the hell is going on."
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Malachi is right though.
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If Lilliana got healthy, it would mean leaving me behind. Then, who would understand me? Who would I be able to be almost myself with?
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Understanding and relatability will go out the window, being replaced by pity and suggested therapy.
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"I hate to be the one to break it to you, Maverick..." Malachi says in a sarcastic, apologetic tone. "One never stays in the same spot when drugs are involved. You of all people should know that."
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I scoff, aiming to end the conversation with a sound of dismissal, but Malachi has no end.
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"But disregard all that I said. Some call me delusional." He says with an easy shrug. "Let's motivate Lilliana. She'll be a success, yes?" He gives a chuckle and a shake of his head.
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My eyes find the body I'm knelt next to, studying it but having zero thoughts of it. I'm thinking about Lilliana and the question ringing through the air....
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What is Lilliana's purpose?
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