Story: Locked Up (chapter 20)

Authors: Blood_Covered_Pheonix

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Chapter 20

Title: Chapter XX: Happy Ending?

The yellowish plaster on the wall is cracked across the whole face, giving the impression of many pictures crisscrossing over one another. The sides of the trunk at the foot of the bed have so many names, carved into them that I had to put mind on the lid. The bed is lumpy with springs sticking up everywhere but the bottom left corner. However, this little hole in the wall, as shitty as it is, is home until I save up enough cash to buy a better apartment. I won’t be able to do that until I get a better job than the bar tending I’m doing four blocks down the street for practically two dollars an hour, after taxes of course. I sit down on the bed carefully, looking at the suitcase that is full of white T shirts and blue jeans. I kick off my shoes and curl up onto my side, avoiding the sharp springs. 

 

 

In the end, I was released before the guards ever found Blaze’s body. When I was discharged, I took her-Rizzy’s books and the old letter that I’d hidden that had her friend’s address on them. I threw away almost everything else though; I ended up keeping some hygiene products and my dildo. Even though I have accomplished the two things that I thought would give me peace, I’m still haunted by her. Every blonde head that I see generates her face in my mind; I hear her whispering in my ear. My memories of her, however, are no longer accomplished with pangs of pain, and now that I have left the jail it is harder to remember her because I don’t have to look at the places that she lived in. I’ve decided that after I’ve got a better job and apartment I’m going to track down Rizzy’s friend’s house and see Rizzy’s ashes. I’m hoping that will give me the closure I need.  

 

 

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I wiggle my shoulder in my too-small coat as I step out of my building into the chilly   November drizzle that falls from gray pre-dawn clouds. A hard breeze blows past me, invading the thin lining of the thread bare monstrosity squeezing my shoulders together. I glance at the time displayed on the back two blocks down the street, making sure that I’m not late. I still have twenty minutes, enough time to stop by a gas station and pick up something quick for breakfast and walk the remaining twelve blocks to the sock factory that I work at for four dollars an hour. I move quickly down the street and duck into the gas and go for a few minutes to buy two seventy five cent hot dogs and a dollar twenty five cent cup of hot coffee. I walk outside and continue on my way to work, eating the hot dogs and finishing the coffee when I reach work. 

 

 

Today is the day that I’ve decided to go to the backwater town and see if I can find Rizzy’s friend’s house. I work from five to two, so with the bus ride out there factored in I should make it there by five. I kind of hope that she didn’t move and that she won’t call the cops on the crazy woman who showed up on her doorstep who asked to see the ashes of her friend that died five years ago. As I suit up for work, I slip the envelope with her address into my pants pocket.   

 

 

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I shiver against the wind again, squinting at the envelope in my hands. I use the pink tinted light of twilight to check the address on the envelope. The twenty seven on envelope matches the twenty seven on the rusted and dented mailbox in front of the gravel path that leads to bungalow that had a depressing black and white color scheme with purple curtains and a natural finished porch. The house is mildly dilapidated, broken pains under some window windows, large chips in the paint and a few rotted spots on the porch. The house fits in with the rest of the neighborhood; many houses have a similar looking design. Some are two floors; some larger still but are split into two smaller rentals, but most of them have the same dreary chipped paint, the rusted metal fixtures, the window damage, and plain rotting porches. I look around a time, only a few teens are about so close to dark, riding skateboards and rollerblades around the street, popping tricks using the raised parts of the road. 

 

 

I take a deep breath, wiggling my shoulders again grimacing as I hear part of the seam of the jacket rip; I’ve got to stop shopping at thrift stores. I stick the envelope back in my coat pocket and bury my hands in the waistband of my jeans. I run across the street to the relative cover of the porch, carefully avoiding the obvious weak points. I stand apprehensively for a minute before moving my right hands to my coat pocket and knocking with my left. 

 

 

The reply that comes is so delayed that I consider walking away. The door is snatched open by a petite woman who’s dark skin and hair call to mind an Egyptian woman. It’s her alright, I recognize her from all those years ago. “Whatever you’re pedaling, we’re not interested.” She snaps, moving so close to the door. 

 

 

“Wait!” I blurt, putting my foot in the jam. “I’m not selling anything. I just want to know something, but I have to explain things first.” She eyes me copiously, but opens back up, steeping outside in a pair of slippers and housecoat.  

 

 

“What is it then?” She shuts the door behind her. 

 

 

“Well four years ago, almost five really, my cellmate Rizz-Riza died. You claimed her ashes and you sent her letters. We were lovers, of a sort, and ever since then I’ve been a wreck. I just want to know if I can see her grave or her urn to say goodbye.” The woman scowls at me.  

 

 

“Riza wasn’t a lesbian.” 

 

 

“Jail changes people.” I answer, biting back a sarcastic remark. 

 

 

“I don’t believe you. I think you’re just trying to get into my house and rob me. You could have easily memorized my address from the letters and then set out on an easy scam.”  She looks accusingly at me as she says this.  

 

 

“That’s reasonable, and I can’t give you anything but my word at this point.” I admit, shrugging. “All I can tell you is that I loved her, I loved her enough to kill the person who murdered her. I loved her enough to avenge her.”
 Her eyes widen as she steps back, reaching for the door. “I’m not going to hurt you though; I’ve got no reason to. Know this though; I’ll be up her at least once a month until I see her.”
 

 

 

“Why?” She asks hesitantly. 

 

 

“I loved her, and the last time I saw her, she was lying on the ground with a gigantic hole in her abdomen. She was killed because of something that I started and I never had a chance to say goodbye or-“My voice breaks and my eyes start to sting. “Or apologize. All I want now is closure. I want to say goodbye to see something of her, I want to channel my apology to her spirit by something she would be attached to. That and I don’t ever remember telling her how much she really meant to me.” I confess. “All I want is closure, just to see what is left of her. I’ll only need a few minutes. Please, let me see her.” I beg. 

 

 

“My name is Lindsay.” She says, opening the door and backing into her house. “I’ll let you see her, only because I can’t stand to let someone walk around with that much guilt on their conscious.” She nods, allowing me to follow her inside before shutting the door. I shudder as the warmth seeps back into me, reawakening the dormant nerves in my skin. On the inside the house is a lot more appealing. The room is painted calming lavender while the furniture is coordinated shades of brown and blue. Lindsay leads me down a hallway that is painted the same shade of lavender that has three doors going down it. She opens the first door and walks into the room behind it. I stick my head in to a room that looks like it once was a guest bedroom; the paint is a serene blue and the carpet flooring a forest green. At the end of the room is large desk that has been turned into a shrine of sorts. Pictures, persevered flowers, candles, and notes sit are arranged in an arch around a bronze urn. A long barrel lighter lies on top of a small end table not far from the door next to an incense holder. She moves inside, lighting the incense and candles. The new illumination allows me to see that the pictures are pictures of Rizzy. I walk up and kneel in front of it. My throat closes as my eyes sting and burn with tears. I look at the pictures with blurring vision, taking in her beauty, I see her as she was before I met her, revitalized and reenergizing her. Here she is not skinny and waifish, but full of energy, her body fuller than I had ever seen it. I start sobbing as I look at more of the pictures, reminded of what I had lost. The dull throb in my chest that I have lived with for years begins to grow in intensity, until every heartbeat feels like a stab wound. I clutch my chest, closing my eyes as I begin to collect myself. My breathing slows and my vision clears, my nose stops running and I clear my throat. I look back at Lindsay, leaning against the door. I reach my hands toward the urn. She shakes her head; I nod and pull my hands back to my sides. I bow my head and clasp my hands together. 

 

 

“It’s been a long time Rizzy; I wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t even remember me. If you do remember me, you’re probably pissed at me, after all, I I’m the reason you’re dead. You know that though, but I’m not here to beg forgiveness I’m just apologizing for it. I came to see you a final time, well Lindsay might let me come back, to say that I’m sorry for killing you. You know that I didn’t, but it was my fault anyway, for a few reasons.  More than that I wanted to tell you that I killed Blaze, I got away with it too. I don’t know who got blamed for it, frankly I don’t really care. All that matter is that I did her in, that I avenged you and stopped the war. I also wanted to tell you that after I lost you, I realized that I was a lot more dependent on you than I thought. I realized that I loved you more than I thought I did. I loved your more than I loved Corina. I’ve miss you a lot I had to work up my courage for a while to come do this. You picked good friends; Lindsay is a really good person to let an ex-con into her house to a dead lover. Rizzy I hope you’ve been listening because I’ve just told something that I’ve been sitting on for five years. If you haven’t been listening before, listen now because I want to tell you a really big secret. I want you to know my name, not my nicknames, but the name my mother gave me. Its Margaret, you’re the only one that knows that, aside from my mom, but I think she’s dead now. “I rise and begin blowing out the candles in the order they were lit. As the last candle goes out, I notice that I feel lighter. That the pain in my heart is gone, that my every thought is no longer panged with feelings of loss and regret. I think that is the peace that I’ve been searching for, that I’ve been deprived of for years. I back out of the room, glancing over my shoulder so I don’t run into Lindsay. After I back out Lindsay closes the door behind us. I hear footsteps coming up behind me, before I have a chance to turn and look an excited voice chirps. 

 

 

“Honey, who is this?” A short and wiry woman comes darting past me, her brown wavy hair bouncing around her shoulders. She comes to a stop by the darker woman. They exchange pecks before Lindsay turns to me. 

 

 

“This is my wife, Kendra. Kendra, this is a friend of Riza’s. Her name is-“ 

 

 

“Mag.” I cut her off, smiling apologetically. She shrugs to Kendra.  

 

 

“She came to make amends with Riza for something that happened between them. I thought we could open our doors to her, let her come by every once in a while to see Riza.” Lindsay finishes. 

 

 

Kendra casts an appraising eye over me. “That would be incredibly kind dear, I agree with. Mag you’re welcome here whenever you wish to talk to Rizz-ball.” 

 

 

I grin and dash to them, enveloping both of them in a bear hug. “Thanks so much you two. You don’t understand how much this means to me. How could I repay you?” 

 

 

“Tell us what happened in there, how she changed and what lead up to her death. If you give us a small part of the story every time you stop by it’ll be repayment enough.” Lindsay answers. 

 

 

“I have a few of her old notebooks that she wrote it, those will probably tell some of the story. I’ll bring them over as I find them.” I reply. 

 

 

“That sounds wonderful.” Kendra extends her hand to me. “It’s a deal.” I shake her hand, smiling as she leads me to the kitchen. “Come I’ll make some tea and you can tell us about yourself.” I don’t protest and start mentally rehearsing what I’m going to say, hoping that the right words will start off what I hope to be a long friendship between this couple and myself.

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