spirituous

I'd thought I would stop all of your suffering and post another chapter. Read and be merry. And I know I'm getting to sound repetitive here, but if you haven't read any of the previous chapters PM me and I'll send them to you a chapter at a time. Enjoy.

Chapter Sixteen:
Alice's cold face kept reappearing inside my mind. I kept on seeing her straight, blonde hair hanging down her shoulders, her glossy lips stuck in the middle of a gasp, and her glazed over eyes staring into oblivion. And then I remembered the wound in her forehead. It was such a tiny hole, but it had destroyed everything. Crimson lines trailed down her tired face in thick streams. I had to close my eyes to get rid of the image. Then, Sandra came into view. I remembered her body from the morgue clearer than I had earlier. A terrible gash was in her neck, peeling the flesh away from her like an apple. Her eyes also held that infinite gaze that seemed to pierce through you. At that moment, I wished Sandra had gotten shot like Alice instead. Sandra had died in agony, probably knowing she was dying. Alice barely had time to even register what was happening before her life was snuffed out. Murder is murder, and it is terrible, but there are better ways than others to be torn out of this world. Between being shot in the head and stabbed to death, I'd choose being shot in the head. No pain, you're just gone. But being stabbed repeatedly…the violence of it just made me sick to my stomach. Feeling particularly morbid, I stopped thinking about Alice and Sandra and smoked my cigarette.

I was sitting outside Monroe's apartment on the stoop letting the wind toss around my hair. I had a headache and basically felt like shit. Not all of it physical. Though the physical pain would be less if I had gone back and gotten my pain medication from Liv, but I refused to humiliate myself any further. I seemed to be neck-deep in arguments since being attacked in the alley, and even I was getting tired of it. I liked to think that it was everyone else that had provoked me, but as the saying goes, it takes two to tango. Which in lamest-terms, in my case, means that it takes two people to make the shit hit the fan. I was being an argumentative bitch, and that made me feel like crap. Not enough to go running back to Liv desperately seeking her forgiveness mind you. I still had my pride. Which seemed to be the problem. Out of the seven deadly sins, pride was supposedly the most deadly out of all of them. Why didn't it surprise me that it was my biggest flaw?

I saw Monroe's jeep coming up the road and threw the cigarette down on the sidewalk. He parked right in front of me, and gracefully walked over to the stoop next to me. I'd never seen Monroe in the sunlight much, and his usual edge was somewhat softened by it. His dark, brown hair that curled around his shoulders now had red highlights in them, and his hard face now looked soft and touchable. His eyes also looked lighter to me. They were no longer black but a chocolate brown. The fact that I was even noticing these subtle changes rubbed me the wrong way.

He came up next to me and sat down, his long coat spread out behind him. "Those things will kill you," he said, pointing to the cigarette I had thrown in the street.

"And you're lifestyle is so much more healthy," I replied.

"Touché," he said, smiling a bit. "What could I do to persuade you to stop?"

I thought about it, and shrugged. "Short of giving me an obscene amount of cash, I'm clueless."

"If someone held a gun to your head, could you? Could you go cold turkey at the drop of a hat?"

I smiled. "Sure I could. But if you so much as go for your gun
right now, I will chew your ass off."

He flashed one of his boyish smiles and let out an uninhibited laugh. All the pain that was so clearly advertised on his face was swept away once again. I wished he would do it more.

"I wasn't suggesting I hold a gun to your head."

"Maybe, but the thought crossed your mind." I said, poking his chest.

He shrugged and grinned. "Maybe, if it would make you stop smoking."

"I can stop smoking whenever I want, thank you."

He shook his head. "You're overconfident,"

"I like to think that I have just enough confidence."

"Whatever you say." He stuck his hand in his coat's pocket and pulled out a small, orange bottle. "I stopped by your place before coming here. Liv told me to give you these," he said, handing the bottle of medication to me. "I also have your clothes, make-up, and gun in my car. Next time you leave in a huff, you might want to remember your belongings."

I scowled at him. “Thanks, I’ll remember that.”


"Sorry," he said, looking at his feet. "So, I take it Liv and you had a fight?"

I shook my head. "I really don't want to talk about it."

"Liv said the same thing."

I played with the bottle of medication in my hands idly and asked, "Did she say anything to you?"

Monroe frowned. "Not really, but I did get the impression that she doesn't like me much."

I laughed. "That's an understatement on a grand scale."

"Why doesn't she like me? She doesn't even know me," Monroe said, looking confused.

"Liv has two modes with people. She either likes you, or she doesn’t. She can tell if she’s going to like you, or hate you, within five minutes of talking with you. She calls it ‘woman’s intuition of the soul’."

"So what, I'm a bad influence on you or something?" He asked in a mocking voice.

I grinned. "Something along those lines, yeah."

He grinned back at me. "I think she may be right."

"Oh, she is. But I don't give a damn," I said, standing up. "Can we go inside now? I'm freezing my ass off."

Monroe stood, his keys dangling from his hand. "Be my guest," he said, opening the door. I pretended to curtsy and walked inside.

Monroe's apartment was very, very nice. The walls were silky colored reds; the floors made of mahogany wood. The place was dark and oppressive, and in that respect worked for Monroe completely. Directly in front of me was his living room, to my right the kitchen, and down the hall there were two doors, which I presumed led to his bedroom and bathroom. The living room's walls were decorated with swords, katanas, daggers, spears, and those pointy weapons one of the ninja turtles uses.

"Wow," I said.

"You like it?"

"It's a little much," I said wandering around inside the room. "Do you know how to use all of these?" I asked.

Monroe gave a slight nod and sat down on a black, leather chair in the room. I sat down on the matching leather couch and looked around some more. From a distance, Monroe's kitchen seemed like any other one. It had your basic oven, refrigerator, microwave, and coffee machine. The colors of the kitchen were all monochrome, black on white and silver on black. I didn't ask about his bedroom's interior design. Asking that question would just be tempting the fates, and I didn't feel that lucky. Since when had I started to be superstitious? Right about the time I decided to sleep under the same roof as Monroe. Yup, that was it.

I met Monroe's gaze and felt embarrassed being caught examining his home. I grinned at him and leaned back on the couch, with a loud, squeaky noise coming from it.

"So, do you like the place?" he asked.

"It's spiffy," I said, staring once again at all his weapons. "So, you know how to use all of those? That's kind of…" I said, pausing.

"Creepy?" he asked, flicking his hair out of his face.

"Yeah," I replied.

Monroe shrugged. "I was trained with all of them as well as a lot of different styles of martial arts."

I nodded. "Like what?"

"Karate, Judo, Kenpo, Kung-fu, Jujitsu, some Brazilian fighting techniques--"

"I get the picture. You're a hard ass." I said.

Monroe let out a quick laugh. "I guess that's a way of putting it."

"So, who trained you in all this crap?"

"People," he said.

"Well gee, that wasn't vague at all."

"Glad you think so," he said, leaning back in his chair.

"Is that your subtle way of saying 'na, na na, na na'?"

That brought a smile from him. "Close enough."

I made a fake pouty face at him. "And here I was thinking I
would get your life's story out of you today."

Monroe's light demeanor suddenly shifted back to the Monroe I had come to know and loathe. Any semblance of witty repartee vanished
and his face was now serious. "Sorry to disappoint," he said, standing up. "Do you want the bed, or the couch?" he asked.

"Nice segue," I said, sarcasm rearing it's ugly head.

"Bed or couch?" He asked more firmly this time.

I sighed. "I don't care. I could sleep on the freaking floor and sleep like a baby. I really don't give a damn."

"Then you can have the bed," he said, walking towards the
door.

I stood up. "Hey, where are you going?"

"I have work to do," he said, not looking at me.

"What the hell just happened here Monroe? You were being really cool one second, and now you're back to being ominous, pain in the ass man again. What gives?"

He cast his head down and stared at his boots. "I think I may be having regrets about having you stay over here."

My eyebrows went up. "Are you kicking me out?"

"No, of course not. I just think I may have been hasty about asking you to stay here."

"Well Monroe, if you're scared or having any anxiety, you may be pleased to know I feel exactly the same way, if not worse."

He smiled. "I can tell."

I shook my head. "So why all the regrets now?" I asked, getting the answer to my question by myself. "You're uncomfortable talking about your past."

"No, I'm not," he said, his eyes getting dark again. "And that is the problem."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means around you, I feel completely comfortable, and my guard is dropped. It's a unnerving effect for someone like me."

I laughed harshly. "What am I supposed to say, sorry?"

"No, that's not what I meant."

"Well your feelings are much more desirable than mine when
I'm around you. When you're around, I am uncomfortable as hell."

Monroe said nothing and just stood there, then sighed. "I don't know what to say."

"Yeah well, neither do I," I said, sliding back on his couch.

Monroe's hand was on the doorknob. "We'll go over the case when I get back." he said, and left.

I sat there and pondered over my recent predicament. Being around Monroe made me feel very uncomfortable and Monroe felt comfortable around me, which made him feel uncomfortable. And, now we were both living under the same roof. The air in the room suddenly felt thick and hard to swallow. I felt the need to flee, but knew could not. God, this situation was so absurd it made my brain hurt just thinking about it. I wanted to get my mind off of the subject, but found no suitable replacement, such as a television or a book. With no mundane item to distract, I was left thinking about Monroe, even though I didn't want to. Lovely.

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i can do the frug~

Cipher2

Holy Cow. More of the Cass Holding stoy.

I thought you'd given up on this forum.




Just needs editing a bit, like: He shook his head. "You're overconfident,"

With regards to the story, I'm wondering when it's going to kick-off. Maybe you should have two stories going like the romance and an action story. You could run them as two stories going at the same time.

Actually I just noticed this is chapter sixteen. That probably explains it since the last one I read was something like 3.