On the Lam (Wistful Beast and Vermiciro)

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Rolling onto her stomach, Judith slipped into place beside her partner. She tucked the glock between them, insurance should things turn ugly, and kept the knife ready in her hand. There were more ways the night could play out than there were stars above. As Judith's mind thought of a counter for one scenario another would occur to her, and then another more. She hope sharing pieces of knowledge, refreshing old understandings, could help them in the future moments.

"Sure." she agreed with Callie. "It depends on the animal. But for the sake of argument, let's use a rhino for example. You've got a gun and it's charging. First instinct would be to aim for one of the vitals. The problem is, you can't hit one before the rhino gets you. The bones and hide are too thick for one shot, which is all you've got time for as it charges. But you have to take down the rhino. So, what do you do?"

Though Judith's analogy was not fully compatible with their situation, she hoped when the time came her partner would remember it and know how to act.
 
Callie remained laying down on her stomach, letting her cheek rest upon one folded arm. Her hair splayed out over her arms and onto the floor. While one hand held tight to the knife, the other was free and fidgeting as per usual. Her fingers clenched into a fist and unclenched repeatedly, fingers switching between bent and extended in a rapid, yet fluid motion.

Callie patiently listened to Judith's analogy, wondering what taking down a rhino had to do with their situation. They were to take down the henchman of some pimp, not a full sized, grey skinned, heavy beast from Africa. "U..um. W..well there...there w..would be..a lot of dodging. Then you'd h.have to f..find a way to t..take it down f..from a distance...And quickly."she answered.
 
"Well, yeah. There's that." Judith admitted, trying not to discourage her partner for the thought, though fleeing was certainly not an available option and there was a paucity of distance in the motel room. To spare time, she simply stated her point than continue their circumlocution. "What I've been taught is that in that kind of situation you break the beast down. You aim for its joints, and pray it's enough to slow it down for follow up shots. Now, this guard-hoe, I'm gonna trip him and nine outta ten say he's falling forward. That'll block all his softer, vital areas from us. I can't even guarantee I'll hit pay-dirt if I take a stab at his throat. But we can break him down and take his weapons before managing a kill. The achilles, backs of the knees, inside thigh, arm pits, and fuck even make a try for his eyes. It'll take both of us. Do you think you can manage it?"

Vows and promises didn't always become truth. Judith had reneged her fair share, but she wanted to hear Callie confirm it. Even if it was a thinly veiled lie, she needed to hear that her partner would have her back when she put herself in danger.
 
Though slightly off put by the whole beast analogy, Callie opted to keep listening to what Judith was currently explaining. It was more relevant to speak of subduing a human, like the one that they were to somehow unarm and dispose of. Callie knew well that they'd have to kill him, and she wasn't rushing to apply for that task. She"d try to throw a few hits or at least distract the man so Judith could do him in.

Callie had enough murders for one day. Witnessing Judith twist a knife in a young man's throat and cause his blood to splurt out like a macabre fountain combined with her having to repeatedly forcing a blade into a naked man's thigh was already enough to fret about. Now they had to add another corpse in their wake and Callie wouldn't be the one to plunge the knife into his flesh, that was certain in her mind.

"Y..yes...I'll..I'll try my best."Callie whispered her reply, worried that the man in question would come barging in at any moment. Her muscles tensed up, breath bated. If she had thought hiding under a bed this morning had been stressful, this was a whole different level of fearfulness. Instead of keeping quiet and waiting for everything to pass, they had to assault and kill a man that was most likely armed and dangerous. Just their luck.
 
It was neither soothing benediction, nor beldam's folk charm, but Callie's word was enough. Not calming, assuring, or even unnerving. It was simply... enough, and Judith accepted it for that. She couldn't expect much more from her partner given the circumstances they found themselves in. And that was without consideration for Callie's psychological state. Judith had extended what sympathy she could, she was able to afford no more.

The subsequent minutes they spent in silence passed syrup-slow, time thick as molasses left listening for the footfalls of a man who could either be their executioner or prey. Tension, tight-rope-taut, had tempted Judith's mind to trickery. As she strained to hear the softest sounds, suggestions would come to mind. Could she hear the television of the room a few doors over? She hadn't such auricle dexterity, but her imagination did. On occasion she could hear the faint voices of a game show host, or the creak of a step, interrupt her vigil. It was taxing on her nerves. Energy that should have been reserved was wasted in keeping her muscles wound.

Among all her mental static, Judith missed Miguel's approach. His knock on the door frame caused her muscles to nearly cramp in surprise. The evening's entertainment was about to begin.

"What's the hold up?" Judith heard him demand, voice muffled through the door. "Y' time's up. Either pay and stay or send the bitch out. You know it's cash before service, asshole. Tha's the rules."

Judith's body felt light. Lithe as cat in wait of its game, she watched, biding until her moment to strike.
 
The stillness and silence was driving Callie to the brink of another outburst. It was unnerving how they had to lay in waiting in such a confined space, the clock ticking away. Each passing moment brought them closer to their attack, or to their demise. If their plan failed somehow, they would pay their lives for the blunder. Crouched on the floor, Callie focused her eyes upon the floor to try to eliminate any distractions. Her body was frozen, tense and as poised as she was going to get. If she didn't act at the proper time when wiggling out from under the bed, she could have her brains plastered on the already soiled mattress in no time.

Callie chewed on her tongue, only forcing herself to cease the destructive behavior when she tasted the coppery tang of her own blood. She kept her senses alert, trying her hardest to sense any sort of noise or movement. When she heard a rapping upon the door, Callie's heart nearly stopped and the acrid taste of bile filled the back of her mouth. Biting her tongue again, her teeth broke flesh, but the taste of blood didn't little to force her stop this time around. She knew that this man was to enter at any moment now. Their time had come, to do or die, or both. Callie clenched the knife's handle, her other hand moving slowly under her torso so that she was ready to push herself forwards. Looking at Judith in her peripheral vision, Callie awaited for any sign to strike.

Callie could almost see the man now, imagining a muscle bound man. When the idea of a pimp's guard came to mind, she thought of a figure that was very masculine and proud of it. Callie half expected the man to charge in wearing a wife beater and jeans or some shit like that. She tried not to think of what gun he would have tucked away, or what nasty knife would be sharp and ready to cut her to bits before she could utter pleas for mercy. Her blood would be dashed upon the floor, her corpse found mangled and mutilated for her parents to look upon in distaste. Callie's imagination caused the hairs on her arms and neck to raise, a cold sweat beginning to form upon her skin.
 
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As Miguel made to indignantly knock again, he found that the feeble wrapping of his knuckles was enough force to open the door ajar. The broken lock still offered no resistance. And so, tentatively, with circumspect, he swung the door inward onto the scene of their trap. White-blue light from the parking lot silhouetted his entrance and cast the room in swollen indigo shadows. From the bathroom, the night-light gave a single flicker, beckoning him toward the slumped, livid corpse of the former John.

"Y' fuckin' shittin' me, right?" Miguel cursed under his breath, reluctant to show his hesitance. "Y' set up some low budget horror show, or some shit?" he called into the room before taking his first steps beyond the safety of the door. Judith's fingers tightened and eased loose around her blade's handle. He stepped closer. "Where the fuck's Laura. She ain't free y'know."

His shadow flickered on the carpet as he walked, stilt-shadow legs growing shorter with the distance. Miguel's right foot crossed into their vision. Then his left. And as he went to make another stride, right foot millimeters off the carpet, Judith's hand darted out. She grasped his ankle and jerked it back with as much force as she could sway beneath the bed's confined space.

The bodyguard fell hard onto his opposite knee and forearms, not prostrate as Judith had hoped. But she hadn't time to complain. Judith tugged his foot beneath the bed like a children's monster of lore. The cuff of Miguel's jeans had bunched enough with the motion to reveal the high shaft of his sock and expose what Judith was looking for, his Achilles.

Without sympathy or vicarious pain, she dug the knife in beside his inside ankle and angled it under the tendon. The confines of beneath the bed allowed little room for leverage, and as Judith tried to jerk the knife up through the thick tissue the knife slipped free, causing only a nick in the tendon and nearly taking out Judith's eye. But she was unphased. Without pause, she sunk it back in and began rapidly sawing through the Achilles.

Miguel was panicked and screaming. Before even considering his own weapon he was desperately trying to jerk his foot free of Judith's grasp. Despite her small frame, her grip held true. And within seconds she'd severed the Achilles. Like a spring relieved of its tension, the tendon shot upward from the wound, retreating deeper into the braid of calf muscles.

If the severance hadn't been debilitation enough, the electric white pain had stolen Miguel's voice and the very breathe from his lungs. Tears welled in his eyes. Mouth agape, he soundlessly choked on the anguish rising in his throat as he pulled his foot from beneath the bed.

No battle cry or victorious howling, but low as the guttural rumble before a predator lunges, Judith made her orders clear. "Make sure he doesn't reach his weapon." It was the only task she gave Callie.
 
Callie nearly bit off her tongue, not seeming to think much of the damage she was inflicting upon herself. A cut on her tongue wouldn't matter if she had allowed herself to make so much as a whimper. Lifting her cheek from her arm, she kept her chin hovering a few inches above the carpet. From under the paper thin, short bed skirt, she spied some artificial light flow in, meeting the edges of the darkness and allowing Callie to see the shadowed silhouette of the expected intruder. It was clear from this man's comments that he thought this was all some joke played potentially for the John trying to avoid paying the price for the young lady he had his way with earlier.

She paid close attention to the man's legs as he drew closer, noting the tenseness of Judith's muscles and recognizing the action as her preparation to strike. Sure enough, in a flash Judith had caught the man's ankle and tugged. Callie flinched when she watched the other woman nearly take her eye out, mouth partially agape. The next cut appeared to be more successful, the man's screaming cutting through the silence and causing Callie to flinch away further. It was a gruesome spectacle, the man's muscle being sliced free, the pain having sapped his scream away. Callie took a moment to swallow and breathe a few times, using a free hand to massage her throat. She hadn't realized that she had neglected to breath as she had witnessed the scene take place.

Callie used her free hand as leverage to scoot out from under the bed. The swiftness of her action left a brush burn on her forearms, but she didn't feel that pain now. Having freed her body, she crawled over to the man's twitching body. Reaching upwards, she made sure the kitchen knife was in the man's view. The blade was still stained with blood, giving way to the fact that the John's death was no trick. Callie hesitated a moment before resting the blade against the man's throat. "Don't move."she said, trying her hardest to keep her voice from quavering. Her eyes were locked on that of the man's, trying not to suddenly freak out. She was not willing to kill again, merely trying to put on a tough demeanor until Judith came to finish the grim deed.
 
Bending her leg, thigh and calf forming a right angle, Judith's foot found purchase on the carpet and she managed to thrust half her body out into the blue-dark of the room. Like a cat emerging from sleep, her back arched as she made to pull the rest of herself free and join Callie in slaughter. Because even though her partner had no intent of drawing blood, vaguely passive participant that she was, Callie was an integral part of the murder. A peepshow is incomplete without its voyeur after all.

Judith made her move as Callie held Miguel's focus. His eyes were wide, desperate for light in the dark and hope in fear, only black-hole pupils staring out. There was no point in torture. Judith favored efficiency over sadism, function over fancy. She came over him like a lover seeking embrace, crawling between the trembling of his thighs and pressing a hand beside him as she leaned in close. The blood-wet gloss of her pocket knife glinted in the low light. Neither aggression nor mercy crossed Judith's face as she put the point of her blade against the throbbing pulse in his neck, her knife crossing over Callie's

"Nothing personal." And she punctured into the delicate knit of his neck. Muscles clenched around the blade. Miguel was still in pure shock, pain, and consternation to even register what was happening. But Judith knew. And with her blade, dulling from use, she sawed down along the inner curve of his sternocleidomastoid. Through force the wound rent open. Blood welled and hiccuped out of the opening. Little pulses of red, turned black in the dim light, burbled down.

Soundlessly, Judith retracted the blade and closed it. She watched as Miguel stared incomprehensibly up at them. He never found words for what happened in the minutes he lay their, slowly exsanguinating.
 
Callie stared right into his widened eyes. She could see fear swimming within them, as it was able to do so even in the toughest of men. All it took to subdue the man was a blade against the throat, as he had no idea whether she was willing to slice or now. Callie took a moment to absorb the sight of his fallen body. He was indeed tall, probably around six feet tall, much taller than Callie and Judith. He was also much wider, being bulked up with muscles as suspected. Callie's other assumption was pretty correct as well, as he was wearing cargo shorts and a loose white tank top. A few tattoos curled around his firm biceps, displaying designs like a row of cliche barbed wire as well as a pin up girl.

The sight of this man in this state nearly made Callie laugh out of irony and the hysteria that currently replaced her shame. He was probably some macho man, hired by a pimp to knock out the disobedient customers and get his hands dirty. Now here he was, writhing in pain and fear, at the mercy of two women. Judith was about ten inches shorter than this man and much scrawnier, and Callie was scared out of her wits. It was so unfitting for them to be the ones that made this man's life come to an end. It should have been a rogue bullet fired from a drug dealer's gun, or maybe an overdose of heroin. No, it was much less grand. He would go out with a warbled gurgle in an old motel room as opposed to a flash, a bang, and a resting spot upon the asphalt.

Judith's pocket knife came into view, dwarfed by the blade in Callie's hand. However, the smaller one would be deadlier, as Callie was unwilling to use her own blade. Transfixed upon the wounded man, Callie remained crouched and witnesses his throat being severed open, blood soon flowing from the fresh wound. It dribbled down and crawled across the man's white tank top, making this the second time within this day and her lifetime that she had watched someone have their throat cut open. The sight of blood was unwelcome and Callie was quick to drop her knife yet again, letting it fall aside uselessly. Crawling backwards, she sat and watched from a few feet away, eyes still drawn to the flow of blood.
 
Though in life he may have carried himself with bravado, Miguel showed no such manner in death. One hand clutched tightly to the wound in his neck, pitiful recourse to subdue the flow, only prolonging the inexorable. His other tried just as uselessly to keep Judith's hands out of his pockets. Weakened by blood loss, vitality draining, Judith only had to bat his efforts aside.

Confiscated was the man's wallet and a steal ring burdened with numerous keys. Two had plastic black grips, Judith assumed one of them must have belonged to a car in the lot. Though she and Callie had the time and privacy to dismember their two victims, Judith didn't relish the task. She was certain her partner would have difficulty with such a gruesome act as well. Shock and alcohol could only alleviate so much. Judith reconsidered her plan.

Tossing the keys to Callie, she gave her another task while Miguel's final breathe sighed from him, chest settling softly as a souffle collapses. "There shouldn't be more than three or four cars in the parking lot. Find his and back it up to the door. We'll put his and the other fuck's body in the trunk." It would also be easier to sleep at night if their motel room didn't resemble a charnel house.
 
Callie was wide eyed and trembling, but that wasn't new. Still crouched down on the floor, she remained fixated upon the angry wound on the man's neck. The victim's feeble efforts to alleviate the bleeding served only to further upset Callie. In this moment she reminded that despite this man's background and occupation, he was still human. Callie had expected danger in their travels, but not having to murder or assault everyone that they came into contact with.

Callie would have to get used to all of the violence, as it would become commonplace in her daily life. In fact, she would even have to begin to participate in it if she planned on keeping her freedom and her life. Unbeknownst to Callie as of now, she would eventually learn to cope with these situations enough to maintain what's left of her sanity. One day blood wouldn't make her stomach churn. One day she could look back into those cold dead eyes without her heart leaping from her chest. That one day certainly wasn't today.

Callie was eager to comply with Judith's request, having wanted to get away from the soon to be corpse for a while. Catching the keys in shaky hands, she rose to her feet and headed towards the door without so much as a word. The light from the parking lot assaulted her eyes, forcing her to lift a forearm to block out the oppressive rays coming from the flickering streetlights. Approaching the cars in the parking lot, she tried the keys in each one and found that it opened a simple, red SUV. Climbing up inside to the driver's seat, she started the vehicle and headed towards room 5, coming to a stop near the door. Climbing out, she opened the trunk and returned inside of the room. Looking to Judith, she merely glanced over her shoulder to gesture that the task had been completed.
 
It was a strange place, between the legs of a dying man, front-row seat to the reaper's harvest. Judith had seen death, knew it for a long time, like a repeat stranger at a bar. But she'd never seen death settle so coldly in another's eyes as it did Miguel's. His silent pleading was still there, photographed onto the black of his irises. In the wet glint of the parking lot light, the glitter in Miguel's eyes, Judith imagined her face was imprinted. The last he'd ever see.

With Callie gone, Judith finally took the revolver from his waist. She had considered giving Callie the glock as they now had two guns, but Judith was hesitant, uncertain. Such a skittish thing her partner was. Judith didn't trust her hand at the trigger. She hadn't any faith in Callie's judgement or fickle equanimity. For now, Judith would keep both.

Entering the bathroom, she put the wallets, both Miguel's and the delivery boy's, into her suitcase as well as the revolver. The unknown, nude, and now flaccid, John was to be moved. Judith went to tug his legs and made a vexing discovery. Rigor had begun to set in. His legs still remained limp, but his spine and everything up it had gone rigid. "Fuck me." a self-pitying groan of resignation. Judith slowly pulled him out into the room, his head thumping against both tank and toilet seat as he went.

When Callie returned, Judith gestured irritably to the John. "Let's get the stiff in first. I don't have the strength to break his rigor. Limp dick over there'll be easier to arrange."
 
Callie had left the door open behind her, sickly yellow light pouring in from behind her figure. She took a moment to observe the scene before her now that some light was shed upon the room. The pimp's guard was left discarded upon the floor, the bleeding from the slit across his throat having slowed down a bit. The foul stuff still oozed out and began to form a small pool on the carpet, the short fabric doing little to absorb the warm, sticky liquid. She watched Judith pull the other corpse from the bathroom, feeling guilt bubble up inside herself again. She kept mentally telling herself that this would all be over soon and that they could deal with the bodies and then allow themselves to recover from the horrific endeavor.

Callie took a short stride forwards before balking, suddenly frozen at the sight of the deceased men. Breaking from her brief stupor, Callie tried her best to loosen up her muscles, as they were drawn taut like a bow string. Clearing her throat awkwardly, Callie reached the John's corpse. She reached down and grabbed his ankles, digging her heels into the ground and beginning to pull. She was only fueled by her desire to be done with the bodies, tugging the man in the direction of the door. After she had reached the doorway, she paused to catch her breath and asked, "C..can you h..help me lift him ..into into the car?"
 
If Callie could manage such a feat as to lift the John, ass completely liberated from the ground, without assistance, then Judith's jaw would have likely broke as it cartoon-comically hit the ground. The gent was heavy. Even the squirreliest, most compact mother-fucker would have had a time getting the half rigor, half paraplegic-flaccid dead weight into the trunk. "No shit, I'm going to help you." Judith sighed, more tired than irate.

Finding hand-holds on the uncooperative corpse was task enough without rigidity. Now that he possessed both the catatonic and heavy qualities of a statue, Judith imagined something of hers would be strained in the process. Once she and Callie managed to bring the body to the trunk, the task of lifting him high enough to get into it began. Judith had to crouch and put her back to his, lifting out of a squat so as to lever his rigor half in. The John didn't fit well. Auto commercials lied. Trunks were not spacious and roomy. Why hadn't thy considered putting him in a fetal position on the toilet?

"If the other one can't fit, we'll have to pop his joints or break his bones." Judith informed grimly. "Let's hope you don't have to put that muscle of yours to extra work."
 
Callie was glad that Judith seemed to have planned on aiding her, as this task was a daunting one. The body was stiff, heavy, and it terrified Callie. Therefore, this goal was far from easy to reach. She was familiar with lifting auto parts, or even the family goats, but certainly not the corpse of a bulky male human. The fact that the man happened to have limbs like most humans possessed, made lifting him awkward. Callie held tight to the man's legs, her nails digging into his flesh. The stab wounds seemed to stare her dead in the face during this arduous process.

Finally, through lots of pushing and force, Callie and Judith managed to rest the body within the trunk. Callie straightened out her back, rubbing it with her heels of her hands to prevent the soreness that was sure to come from having exerted that much force. Catching her breath, she stared at the lifeless heap that now resided in the back of the stolen vehicle. She was wondering how the hell the other man would manage to fit properly.

Judith's remark made Callie's stomach flutter. The last thing she wished to do was mangle a corpse so it would fit atop another one. She could almost hear the sickening crunch of a bone being splintered under harsh force. The mere thought of such an action made the hairs on the back of Callie's neck raise. "I..I..hope..t..that doesn't h..happen."Callie replied, fidgeting with a strand of her hair for a moment. Suddenly coming to attention as she remembered her goal, she reentered the motel and peered down at the other corpse they had to move.
 
"I hope so too." Judith agreed upon entering the room. Miguel was a smaller man by comparison. Where as their John was on the husky side, arms and gut all gently curved by fat, Miguel was streamline sinew and bone. More gristle and lean muscle than fat. Judith assumed he would be an easier task, as he appeared lighter and not rigid. It was an egregious mistake.

Like an imaginary last step, Judith found herself nearly physically fumbling as she made to lift what she'd thought was astronomically lighter than what it really was. As though gravity had tripled, Judith felt her knee buckle suddenly. It was an error she quickly amended after catching herself. In that moment, Judith was glad he had died slowly.

"Let's get him in the truck. Quick like a bunny, yeah." she encouraged, though strain was showing in her voice. "If we put his ass in the far right corner where it's empty then we can tuck and stuff the rest of him where ever."
 
Callie could see and hear the effect that carrying the corpses had on Judith. The woman had nearly found herself crumpled upon the ground due to a quick shift in her knee joint probably caused by the weight of the man she had attempted to carry. Hr voice also sounded forced, adrenaline giving way to fatigue. It had been a long day after all, starting with one murder and ending with two more.

Callie offered a weak nod and this time grabbed under the man's arms. She would allow Judith to take the man's legs instead, as it may prove to be at least a touch easier. She pulled upwards suddenly, lifting the man's torso off of the ground with a soft grunt of effort. The man's head lolled back once the floor was no longer there to support him, a fresh wave of blood creeping out from the nasty neck wound. Callie grit her teeth, breathing harshly out of her nose. She began to move in the direction of the door, pausing only to heave the man further up into her arms so his head and shoulders rested upon her chest.

Callie was quick to rest the man upon the edge of the trunk, releasing a relieved sigh. Her lungs burned and her shoulder muscles ached. Briefly maneuvering the corpse, she allowed the body to fit upon that of the rigid John. Callie took another pause to recover, stretching her arms out as she winced. After she was satisfied with their work, she closed the trunk. Climbing lazily into the vehicle, she re-parked it. Only then did she return to the motel room. Once Judith was inside, Callie closed the busted door to the best ability. Then her tough facade disappeared entirely.

With quick strides, Callie reached the bed. Quick to crawl up onto it and sit with her back against the headboard, she grabbed a pillow and shoved it against her face. Within moments, aggressive sobs racked her body, the sound muffled mostly by the musty smelling pillow. Her body trembled, sweat having collected upon the surface of her skin.
 
What others may have seen as a simple task proved to be a herculean feat for Judith and she was silently pleased to have the lesser burden of the legs. It was almost a lark having to carry them as Callie bared the actual weight. They were not feather-light or of levity, but even while holding him aloft by the thighs, Judith felt Miguel's lifeless burden was more tolerable than whoever was already in the trunk.

The corpses stored, she watched in the red glow of the tail-lights as Callie drove into a suitable parking spot. It was an almost laughable climax to their iniquitous deeds, and a finale that offered no relief, only the grim expectation of an encore. The motel room was little better than the attic space. There was a modicum of chance that they'd be apprehended, but a more sepulchral ambiance had taken the place of such worry. Memory cloyed the air, thick enough to suffocate. Even in the dark, with blood as little more than ink stains, the wending humidity felt like ghosts stealing breath little by little. Judith wanted a drink.

She was about to offer Callie a well earned libation, share a drink to their fortune, but the other woman had passed her in such haste. There wasn't time. Like an animal in distress, wind howling across plains, and metal bending under stress, the only sound shared was the pillow-smothered pain coming from deep in Callie's chest. Platitudes and anodynes couldn't ail something that wounded one's core. So Judith gave her the kindness of privacy.

"I'm gonna shower, 'kay?" she explained. "If you need something from me or the suitcases we're there."
 
Callie offered no sign of even acknowledging Judith's words, too absorbed in her woes. However, she had heard Judith speak and was relieved for being left alone for a moment. She folded her legs up against her chest, her go to position when sitting and especially when she was this distraught. She held the pillow firmly against her face, the fabric dampening with her tears. Broken, she trembled like a child that was frightened of the dark. Except no amount of weeping could ever make her feel better about the horrendous and morally corrupt deeds she had committed within the span of the day.

Callie was finally coming to terms with the fact that she had murdered someone. She had believed that she had just hit rock bottom and that were was no redemption in sight, leaving her to wallow in the face of her actions. She had always thought of herself as well behaved, sticking to the rules and doing her part in society. She had a happy life, a much simpler one. Now Callie was being crushed by her new reality. There would be little simplicity. Life was losing her identity now, compromising her morals, and bending the rules. Life was traveling far away from her home town, family, friends, and occupation. The only person she had was a woman around her age who had a history of selling drugs and being violent, making her someone that was unlikely to bring comfort to Callie's now chaotic life as it spiraled out from her control. The lines between good and bad were becoming blurred, not as clear and organized as Callie had intended them to be.

Sitting here upon the mattress, she felt crestfallen and defeated. It was like the door that led to shimmering opportunities and an enjoyable life had been slammed in her face. Leaving nothing but darkness and blood that pooled around her feet, rising and rising until she would eventually be drowned by the stuff. Suddenly realizing she couldn't breathe, Callie's chest tightened and she let the pillow leave her face. Gasping, she tried to take in sharp breaths. Callie's face was streaked with tears, making strands of her hair become plastered to her face.

Callie eased herself into a laying position, knees still raised towards her chest. Closing her eyes, she quietly allowed herself to cry. While the aggressive sobbing was done for now, her condition was far from improved. So she lay there unmoving for what felt like an eternity, frozen by her self loathing and pure regret.
 
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