Liam

Pretty little birds shouldn’t fly too close to cages—the caged animals are the dangerous ones.

The pretty little blonde didn’t see me watching. She didn’t know she’d flown into the wrong room, or that the doctors who’d ordered her there had ended her pretty little life.  

They must’ve told her she’d be fine, that the pigs outside with their stomachs splitting at the seams would keep her safe, and that restraints would keep me miles away from that pearly throat of hers. Lovely stories, those, all of them gorgeous—none of them true.

My little bird didn't know how lovely she was, how beautifully slender, how perfectly vulnerable. She flitted around the room fiddling with all the lights and bells just to keep me stable.

Not a drug in the world could’ve straightened me out. I had bullets left to bury. Bullets that belonged in bodies that were too far from me.

She turned the TV on. She didn’t know I was listening. She had her eyes on the breaking news story. Some old, ugly, reporter couldn’t keep his mouth shut about a boy and girl on the run. A boy and girl I’d break to bits.

If I could’ve, I would’ve kicked in the television at the sight of Cal’s face on the damned screen. I’d be the only Evans worth talking about soon enough. Not him. I’d burn his name out of the headlines along with his ashes.

                                                                   ***

My lovely bird had a lovely name. I read it every time she bent over top of me to tend to the old sheriff’s gunshot wound. I called out, “Alice,” quick enough to get her attention, quiet enough to keep it, and she stiffened up straighter than a stick.

She turned to me, cheeks flushed shameless red, and smiled away her quiet attraction. Women were always beautifully simple, simple enough to trick, simple enough to trap, simple enough to strangle.

        “Good to see you’re awake, Mr. Evans.”

        “Is it now?”

        “Of course, you had us all worried. You were in bad shape last night,” she said.

        “We’re all in bad shape, Alice. Some of us are just better pretenders than others.”

        “I’m sorry?”

She turned off the TV, like she hadn’t heard me. What a gorgeous liar—the type who thought her pretty face would soften a man. She wouldn’t have smiled so brightly if she’d known what she was smiling at.

I’d danced with the devil the night before and there wasn’t any man left in me for her to manipulate.

        “Alice, can I tell you something? I don’t want to say it out loud cause I’m a bit embarrassed to be honest, mind if I write it down?”

She pulled a pen out of the pocket just above her bust. I lingered there for a moment, took in the view, and scribbled out the news that I’d pissed through my clothes and she hadn’t even noticed.

Careless girls make careless mistakes. She’d be replaced her for what she’d done. Her eyes went wild at the sight of the bed and the whole panic was gorgeous. She’d do anything to keep her job and I’d do everything to threaten it.

        “I’m so sorry, Mr. Evans, I’ll get someone in here to clean you up right away.”

        “I’d prefer if it was you.”

I slid my fingers around her snap twig wrists. The friction set her skin on fire. She pulled her hand away slowly, too slowly—like she had a taste for the way I’d touched her. She must’ve believed I was a sensitive man beneath all the bruises. Fingertips are terrible liars. 

        “Alice, I’d feel more comfortable with you handling this quietly. I’ve lost a good deal over the last twenty-four hours. I’d like to hold on to some dignity, at the least.”

She blushed.

        “I’ll have to speak to your officers, but I don’t think that should be a problem,” she said.

She stepped out for a minute and came back with the fatter of two pigs. His eyes were so bad he missed the keyhole on my cuffs one too many times before releasing me. Beautiful little Alice sat me up, slid my bad arm into a sling, and walked me to the washroom.

I played up the pain, leaned on Alice like the saintly crutch that she was, and waited to hear the click of the door closing behind the three of us. The pig stood in the corner, watching her pull each knot on my gown loose until I stood almost naked in front of them.

His eyes darted too far below my waistline for me to tolerate. I cleared my throat, and he shifted his hand back to his gun—a little threat to keep me peaceful, but there wouldn’t be any peace for him.

Alice turned on the shower and steam filled the room. The officer broke into a foul sweat so strong it stunk through the folds of his uniform. I’d lived far too long in a slaughterhouse to stand the smell of pigs. The stink only died away when they did.

        “Hurry up and get him washed so we can get his cuffs back on. I don’t got all day,” he said.

Alice did as she was told, spooked by the mere shadow of authority, and unraveled my arm. The blue sling came loose in her hands and the pen I’d stolen earlier went tumbling to the floor.

        “Mr. Evans, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were a thief.”

        “You’ve caught me red handed, Alice. At least, you will have in a minute.”

I grabbed her pen quicker than she could blink. The narrow-eyed pig didn’t even have a chance to squeal. Might have had something to do with the pen I stuck through his throat.

He squirmed for a bit, the way all pigs do, and bled halfway down his clothes before he stopped kicking around. Alice stayed good and quiet—might’ve had something to do with my hand around her throat. 

        “Love, what are you doing working in a place like this? You can’t save anybody, Alice. You couldn’t save that poor old pig, and you won’t save the other. Call him in here. If you scream, I’ll snap your neck.”

I palmed the back of her head in my hand and forced her over to the door, while she struggled to keep quiet. A flick of the wrist made all the difference. I liked her—too much to ruin her body just yet.

        “Please don’t do this, Mr. Evans.”

        “If you call me by my father’s name again, I’ll choke the life out of you, Alice.”

        “Just don’t hurt anyone else, please don’t hurt any—”

Somewhere in the middle all that begging I slammed her face into the wall. She left red lines all over the place. Could’ve been lipstick, could’ve been blood. Didn’t matter as long as it stopped her from talking.

        “Alice, I hate asking for anything twice, but I’m in a fair enough mood to let you have another shot. Call that officer over. Don’t cry, we can’t have him running for help now can we?”

She played her part beautifully after a little knock-around set her straight. The officer came to her, practically bursting below the belt from the sound of her lovely voice.

Officer Kendall I think it was. He turned out being far slimmer than his sweaty dead friend, so throwing Alice aside and cracking his skull against the sink took far less effort than I’d expected.

Alice should’ve been impressed with me. All that killing with one arm and no clothes, should’ve done something for her between those long scrawny legs. But she stared at me like she was looking at some sort of abomination.

I wasn’t one. I’d only done what I’d needed to. I didn’t shoot Cillian to end up strapped to some hospital bed. I didn’t strangle Marcus to end up at the mercy of Anderson’s pigs.

Ma would’ve expected more of me. I’d promised her Caleb’s life, and mine to follow and I’d see that through. Anyone else in the way was a necessary casualty.

        “I fancy those scrubs you’ve got on, Alice. Got anymore lying around?”

She wouldn’t speak to me. Couldn’t imagine why. Instead she pointed out the bathroom door and over to some plastic drawers near my bed. She’d have to get them for me. So I kept a dead officer’s gun pointed at her back to keep her obedient.

        “Go and get me those clothes, girlie.”

        “Those are for doctor’s emergencies only. I could lose my job.“

        “Alice, is a gun pointed at your back not emergency-enough for you?”

A quick cock of the pistol got her walking. Waiting for her to come back, I would’ve liked to think that I was running things properly, that I was in control, but I damn near pissed myself from the fear of it all going wrong.

All she had to do was scream. All she had to do was bolt for the hallway before I could shoot, and everything would go to hell. She just didn’t know it. Even Caleb managed to get away from me.

I shot at his little tramp and couldn’t manage to kill her. I killed Rusty close range. If Alice got too far from me, I couldn’t shoot to kill. Cillian could’ve, but I’d ruined all that.

        “Be quick on your feet, Alice!”

She came back to me, dragging her feet beneath her like they were chained to the ground. She didn’t scream, she didn’t run, just followed orders like a good girl. Maybe she thought I’d let her go for it.

        “I’ve got one last favor to ask of you, Alice.”

She wouldn’t look at me straight. I’d fully clothed myself but she wouldn’t take her teary eyes off the bodies on the floor. They shouldn’t have meant anything to her. They meant nothing to me.

        “Be a good girl, and keep quiet.”

She found it in herself to look at me then, her eyes bluer than blue, and perfectly horrified. I hated her for it. Ma wouldn’t have looked at me like that. She would’ve understood everything—that I’d killed all these people for her.

I reached out for Alice’s wireframe wrists and pulled her to me. Her neck fit so beautifully between my hands, so I let my fingers linger over her throat for a time. She’d be the last woman I’d ever let this close and all she could do was tremble.

        “Just keep quiet, Alice. Good and quiet.”

All her beautiful tendons tensed up underneath my hands—desperate to try, desperate to live. Her fists came crashing into me, beating an already broken body, but I couldn’t feel them.

I couldn’t feel anything but that delicate throat caving in under my thumbs. She struggled to breathe and stared up at me, eyes wild and pleading.

Marcus looked at me different. He wasn’t afraid of me like she was, he just didn’t understand. I thought he would’ve.

He died that way—suffocating, not understanding, not knowing that taking his life meant that I loved him, and Cillian, and Caleb all the same. I loved them, but Marcus looked at me like he didn’t believe that. He should’ve.

Alice’s squirming slowed to a stop. I peeled her out of her scrubs, slipped her into my hospital gown, and carried her back to the bed. Her hands were too small for the restraints but I strapped her in best I could.

I’d take her place and she’d take mine, a fair trade as long as she could pass for a patient. But she was too pretty, to recognizable to pass for a mangled man. So I figured I’d change her a little. God made an angel so I ruined his work. Scissors.

Alice left the pair she’d used to snip the ends of my stitches on the table next to my bed. I cut her face into ribbons, tore through bloody tissue, and trimmed all her pretty blonde hair off.

Made wrapping her head with gauze quite easy. I washed my hands of her blood, tore up my chart, and disappeared out into the hallway when the job was done.

I passed so many ignorant fools as I walked. Doctors, nurses, security men without a clue as to who they were letting slip through their fingers. Some of them smiled at me, others simply moved me aside, but nobody stopped me. It wasn’t until I’d walked through the lobby and stepped out the front door that I came to a beautiful realization.

Nobody could.