The Lookout
Volume 7 Issue 1 | 2019
Facade Jarod Jordan “Why’re you such a cold fuckin’ bitch? Doesn’t this hurt? Doesn’t this mess with your head, your heart? Anything?” The words sprayed a venomous cloud into the
had a little bit too much to drink? That’s bullshit. Total bullshit.” His words flared with their venom-lined edge again, each syllable another stab at her. Samena
air, but their ill-intent denatured and unraveled
tightened her fingers on each other, uncrossed
into wisps of useless sound. She sat, legs crossed,
then re-crossed her legs as the black denim rubbed
fingers steepled, eyes refined to slits that could
together.
slice steel. The man continued to fire off a volley of
“All the more reason for you to not be with a
pointless insults, his salt-and-pepper chin chewing
‘cold-hearted bitch’ then, correct? Since I’m upset
and grinding each word into the space between
over ‘total bullshit.’”
them. “I just don’t get it. You’re some piece of work. I don’t understand—” “I’m not asking for understanding, Allan. I’m asking you to leave.” “Just like that? I make one mistake; don’t follow one of your fucking rules, Sam, and I’m out?” Samena took an even breath, settling a twinge in her stomach. Her fingers clasped together into a barricade on her lap. A few loose strands of her onyx hair slipped alongside her cheek. “Allan, please, just go.” Allan was already pacing in tight, forceful
Even as she said this, she could feel the bitter chill it left in her mouth. Allan’s face dropped for a second, but quickly contorted into another raging maw, ready to strike, ready to devour Samena where she sat. His arm shot up. Drawn, readied, and on the verge of swinging. Samena flinched almost imperceptibly in the armchair and closed her eyes, preparing for the slash of pain to her face. His arm fell to his side limply. “I cannot believe you. Fine. You know what? I’m done. You can go fuck yourself with whatever shard of glass you use to get off.” Allan turned to leave. His shoulders and back
ellipses in front of Samena. He waved his arms in
hunched. Samena kept her glacial stare fixed on
sharp jerks, blades of flesh and bone that crumpled
him.
and stretched his ratty T-shirt with each swipe. “No, I won’t ‘just go.’ You’re going to kick me out, throw away all we’ve built up, just because I
“I’ll be back for my shit.” “I’ll have it ready for you.” Allan squinted his eyes. A snarl curled up, but
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