Dynamic: Kahlo X Ace - Blog Posts
@vihilum
# that final girl aesthetic THE CABIN IN THE WOODS
@vihilum
Frank & Lola - Matthew Ross (2016)
Pose, Ep. 4, ‘The Fever’ (2018).
don't know where he's going don't know where he's been but he is restless at night cause he has horrible dreams
so we lay in the dark we've got nothing to say just the beating of hearts like two drums in the grey
i don't know what we're doing i don't know what we've done but the fire is coming so I think we should run
@vihilum
vihilum:
He always thought he might go out in a blaze of glory – as gunfire rained over them, the notion didn’t seem as romantic. Heat emanated above their crowns, ears ringing. Ace relied heavily on his sense of hearing, but the world had dulled. He hissed a breath as he kicked the glass leading into the apartment, one he prayed was empty, lest they disturb any others tonight, two solid swings and it shattered, and the duo tumbled in. He snagged the jacket as he followed her in, peeling it from where it’d been embedded into the sill, eyes adjusting to the dark.
He stepped through plastic lined over carpet to protect it from the paint, and he walked towards the sink located in the kitchen. He turned the faucet and water dripped into his cupped palms, and he lifted a handful to his face, red staining his fingertips. He wasn’t relaxed, he wasn’t at ease – he was taking a breath. He rinsed the blood that clung to his features, to his hair, until his unruly curls were dripping down his back, a sense of calm regained.
“We won’t.” He knew they couldn’t stay there. Disappearing into the apartment had bought them a few minutes, but his mind was still reeling in search of alternative exits. With a moment taken, came a moment for pain to settle in. His breathing slowed and he gripped the sink’s edge, his other palm gliding along his side until he found the source – he must have been clipped on their way in. He almost had missed it, would have walked out without checking if he hadn’t taken a moment to catch his breath. He cursed himself for taking a beat now.
Digits prodded the wound, and his eyes fluttered shut to focus, lip twitching with each jab at his injury, until he roamed and found it, breathing a sigh of relief. There was an exit wound – the bullet wasn’t still inside. Stealing a long strip of painter’s tape from atop one of the cans, Ace grabbed a baby blue smeared rag and secured it to his wound, wrapping the tape around his waist, and tearing it, before tossing it back onto the ground.
His arms slipped through the jacket sleeves, and he exhaled, a plan in motion, “They’ll be waiting outside. They know we’re still in here,” he was as ready as he ever would be – it was now or never, “we go through the trash chutes, jack a car, and get out through the parking lot. Could be our best bet of getting out of here,” his eyes were red-rimmed, he was tired too, and he wanted her to see him strong. He knew the goons were following, foresaw there might be something they’d left behind, but all he could focus on was right now, and getting them out of there right now.
“Do you know of a safe place we could go?”
Watching Ace tend to his wounds with such precision, carefully making out the outline of his arms as he moved over the kitchen sink through the dark living room with only the light from the full moon seeping through the broken window, made Kahlo pause and check her own self the same way he had. Her hands moved up and down her torso looking for a bullet wound to match his. Her search came up empty and relief washed over her until she remembered the blow to her cheek. Her fingertips found the blood she’d been looking for when she caressed her cheekbone; she was grateful this was the extent of her physical injuries (so far). With noise still coming from the kitchen where Ace stood, the rest of the world was beginning to melt into a haze. In a mere hour and a half, she’d lost the life she knew. Everything now was darker, heavier. It was like suddenly experiencing everything through a broken lens that distorted all remaining things that are truly good. “We won’t.” His voice was toneless but firm and the realization of what she’d just done upstairs was really beginning to creep up. Kahlo could feel her heart rate increasing and her face growing hotter. She was so quick to kill without any hesitation – this blatantly selfish commitment to survival was foreign to her.
Nervous hands rubbed against one other until they settled near her belly button. No, there was no time to freak out. Tranquila. Tranquila. Tranquila. The sound of water splashing over the counter grounded her back in the room and her eyes, now more adjusted to the darkness than before, fell on Ace. He had moved to salvage whatever supplies he could find but she’d missed it. She only now found him again, tending to the graze under his arm. Her steps toward him were sheepish and slow but she finally made it to him. Despite the darkness, Kahlo was still able to get an eyeful of a messy patch up. Her fingertips lightly grazed over the wound before he could cover it with the masking tape. It wasn’t hard to pick up on his makeshift nursing skills and how he was trying to clean himself up with the limited resources he had, but she also knew that if not properly cared for, the wound would get infected and would continue to bleed. Her fingers were gentle when she took over for his larger ones. She wiped away any excess water around the wound before applying the tape over the rag then stepped back as he swung his jacket back over his shoulders.
She knew they’d have to leave the apartment; she’d even said it out loud, but now that the plan was in motion, she had to fight her nerves back again. Now is not the time. “Do you know of a safe place we could go?” Again he was firm, but she was grateful for it. Her mind raced as she quickly tried to connect any dots that would exclusively link her with the missing phone and the Catscratch. Whoever was after them, knew about the club but didn’t know which one of the girls in the picture was the owner of the phone left behind. Her head snapped up some when she made the decision to take them back to her apartment. “I do. Let’s go.” She took the lead this time, trying to show him that she wouldn’t be dead weight the entire time.
Kahlo was slow to open the front door at first. The light from the outside hallway invaded the darkness of the apartment hallway. She listened closely for any noise that revealed the location of the men upstairs but the coast was clear – they hadn’t made it down yet. She swung the door the rest of the way open and stepped out into the light first before they bolted for the stair well at the end of the hallway. She was drowning in adrenaline. All she could feel was the burning of her thighs as she pushed forward for the stairs and Ace on her tail. Before the pair could reach the end of the hallway, she noticed that he’d fallen behind a few paces. He was bleeding through his shirt. Kahlo’s eyes widened at the revelation, but she wasted no time running back, tucking herself under his left side and wrapping an arm around his waist to help him keep moving. The stairs were tricky with her small frame supporting most of his but they made it to the basement level at the same time the 6th floor door was kicked open. They’d been found. “Let’s go! Do not stop moving.” IF this man was going die, she would not let him die there.
Kahlo ran until they reached the end of the garage and hid behind a 2002 black honda civic. They both gasped for air after their run as she set him down against the back-left tire. She strategically chose the oldest looking car she could find; she knew she’d have to break the window if they wanted in, and the older the car, the less likely it’d have an alarm. Wishful thinking. Without skipping a beat, Kahlo’s hands reached into the side of his jacket and pulled out the blade she saw him carrying earlier. With it’s handle, she sent a hundreds of tiny shards of broken glass to the ground. She allowed herself another brief moment of relief when she didn’t hear the sound of an alarm, but it was only a moment as she was sure the men heard the window breaking from where they were.
She turned her attention back to Ace as she heaved him back up and helped him jump over the driver’s seat and middle console until he was settled in the passenger seat. Kahlo followed his instructions to a T but sliced her finger when she pulled a wire too hard. When she touched wire a to wire b, the engine roared to life under their feet and she floored it. Gunshots were fired as they whizzed past their attackers and after as they rode away once they hit the street. She was able to make out at least eight of them before turning the corner out of view. They drove in silence and in focus. All Kahlo could think about was making it to Harlem, somehow reaching the girls at the Catscratch to warm them without a phone or without being caught if actually going to the club was the only option, and keeping Ace awake – keeping him alive.
She made it a point to ditch the car some ways away from her apartment as to not reveal their location right away if they men were able to get a good look at the car when she nearly ran them over during their big escape. With the same manner of urgency, Kahlo rushed around the car to the passenger seat to help Ace back out. She took his arm and swung it over her shoulders to help support him while they walked the remaining seven blocks and up 4 flights of stairs to her home.
Kahlo’s studio loft was anything but organized. It wasn’t dirty, per say, but it was pretty messy. There were ashtrays filled to the brim with blunt roaches and cigarette butts on almost every surface, stray lighters and matches everywhere, fishnets and lace underthings drying on a line above the rotten excuse for a television, high platform heels scattered all across the floor and Capullo (the cat) had made a mess of a toilet paper roll, leaving it’s remains near the bathroom door. They came in a huff. She lead him to the couch and eased him down before rushing to liquor cabinet for the strongest alcohol she could use to clean the wound, and to calm her nerves. She returned to Ace, bottle tucked under her arm and a handful of clean paper towels from the kitchen in her trembling hands. They were safe. For the time being.
"this is what i do."
@vihilum
Angel & Stan | Pose | Access
Much Like Ace, the ringing in her ears post shoot out was deafening. All her being was tied to the weight of the metal in her hands. She watched as smoke sheepishly billowed out of the end of the barrel until her line of vision crossed her newest victim. She took in an eyeful of yet another body drowning in a pool of its own blood. There was a soft hum in the background but she couldn’t make it out until a new sensation took over. The gentleness in his touch when he outstretched his hand to remove the pistol from her death grip. She felt guilty when her recognized her body’s natural reaction to want to pull the trigger again and shoot before she knew it was him grazing her fingers and not an actual threat. “Just look at me.” Although her body resisted, she willed herself to tear her eyes away from the dead body and matched his hazel eyes. He was patient with her and she was thankful.
“Do you have everything?” Her mind went to her phone but she was glued to the ground, she would ultimately forget to look for it. The white room had begun to spin and with Ace moving so diligently around to erase any evidence of their presence, Kahlo was afraid of getting sick. She was able to make sense of holding it in – suppressing any and all emotion in this instance. It wasn’t until she too heard the footsteps in the outside hallway that she remembered the call for help. If she was going to survive the night, if she was going to help keep him alive, she needed to snap out of it. Survive the night and spend the rest of your life mourning the fate of your soul. Her nervous hands reached out to Ace when she saw him approach her again, this time with his finger to his lips and leading her toward the fire escape. She didn’t need an invitation to climb over the windowsill and swing a leg over until she was on the landing.
Despite being ready to get the hell out of there, she waiting for Ace’s final move. The sound of the fire extinguisher going off was her cue to start for ground level but Kahlo’s pace didn’t pick up until she was sure Ace was trailing behind her. She would’ve kept going until her shoes hit the pavement beneath them but his hand at her shoulder pulled her attention away from the goal. The choice was make a get away or hide out in someone else’s apartment. She was hesitant to destroy the lives of an innocent family but when bullets came raining down from above and they were forced to press their bodies as close to the window as possible, Kahlo simply nodded in his direction. There was a silent prayer for the apartment to be empty. Off in the not so far off distance, police sirens could be heard over the never-ending pop of gunfire.
One of the ricochet bullets missed her leg by not even 2 inches but did find its target in the downstairs window. With only a hole the side of her foot, the pair would have to finish the job if they wanted to slip inside and get out of range. As the sole of Ace’s shoe destroyed what remained of the glass, Kahlo managed to slip out of his jacket and set it on the sill to avoid slicing their thighs as they swung through the broken window. She motioned for him to duck in first and then she followed. The apartment was empty – not a piece of furniture in it. Instead, through the darkness she was able to make out cans of paint, masking tape all along the walls and two ladders all in the living room. Relief washed over her once she realized she wouldn’t be the cause of anymore trauma that night.
There were still a few stray gunshots, she figured the men on the eleventh floor hadn’t made out the shapes of their bodies disappearing into the building again so she took the time to inspect her body for any wounds. She was clear. No bullet touched her. The shooting stopped but she couldn’t pick up on anymore footsteps. She let her body relax some as she leaned against the wall of the empty apartment. When she remembered about her missing phone, her hands flew to the pockets of her jeans only to find her phone was still upstairs. “We can’t stay here.” There was exhaustion in her voice.
From above, “The Catscratch Club?” One of the men picked up her phone and looked at the lock screen like his fallen comrades had. Kahlo’s eyes widened in panic as she tried to find Ace in the darkness. They’d made a connection between the destruction above and her. “That wouldn’t be the one in Hell’s Kitchen, would it?” He was taunting them. Tormenting them. The club was closed, there would be no one there to meet their violence should then make their way downtown but who was to stay they wouldn’t cause another bloodbath tomorrow when her friends took the stage. It didn’t matter if Kahlo and Ace survived the night – this wasn’t over.
@vihilum
Instinct pushed forward and Kahlo’s hands were already on the man’s body. While she waited to take the stranger’s lead in almost everything else, once it was made clear that he was still alive, that she was not as guilty as she prepared herself to be, she sprang into action. She slid her right hand underneath his limp neck and lifted just enough so that his airway was clear. Druggies, not matter how far deep you were, have seen overdose before. Although, she couldn’t keep her own body from trembling, she stayed the course and tried to make herself as useful to her savior as possible. A few words were exchanged but nothing drastic enough to make them look up from the nearly dead body that physically separated them. Perhaps it was Kahlo’s ultra focus on the man that prevented her from picking up on the rustle of the doorknob, but her make shift partner was there to save her ass once again.
If Kahlo had been blinking, she would’ve missed everything. It seemed that nothing would work out in her favor that night. The two opposing forces came into the apartment with seemingly no struggle, yet they had no key. They’d done this before. She felt hands on her arm yank her up with a paralyzing sense of urgency that left her unable to resist. She trusted this stranger with her life at this point. Following his swift movement, Kahlo allowed her body to be lead into the hallway closet. After he pressed her to the back wall of the closet, she watched as his hands fell from her shoulders. He turned and carefully shut the shutter doors, barricading them inside. He took front and center with his eyes only centimetres away from the light that poked through the gaps of the flimsy, wooden doors so his back was pressed to the front of the her body. What would have been a terribly tight fit for any two people was only just a tight fit both of their relatively slender frames.
Hearing everything without being able to actually see anything was a torment. Heavy footsteps gave away the steel toe boots the second pair of intruders were wearing as they thumped over the marble flooring. A patronizing tisk came from one of the men, now fully in the living room, while the other spoke out. “Benjamin, what kind of shit do you get yourself into, man? Looks like you had all the fun before we even got here.” There was something so sinister in the man’s tone that made Kahlo’s stomach fall to the floor and the hairs on her neck rise. Whoever they were, whatever they wanted, she knew she wanted absolutely nothing to do with them. Her life was already shit, she didn’t need anything else. Her mind would’ve kept racing if the silence wasn’t interrupted by the sound of a steel toe making contact with a skull.
First it was a crunch but after the fourth stomp it started to sound more like boots splashing around in globs of mud than anything else. Imagining blood, the color of crimson, splatter all over the white floor and walls - envisioning a gaping crater where the man’s face was only minutes ago was making her queasy. This was a person. A human being and they had no regard for the divinity of life. If she couldn’t get her own shit together, who was to say the pair hiding in the closet wouldn’t be met with the same fate, or worse. Desperate to steady herself, Kahlo’s hands found the hem of Ace’s jacket and she clung to him as she nervously attempted to self soothe. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. It seemed the destruction behind the closet doors was finally finished but noise from the two men continued. She couldn’t be sure but it sounded like rummaging through this drawer and that cupboard, knocking over this table and laughing about the way the man called Benjamin was already waiting for them, Kahlo tried so hard to remain still and silent as she listened for any more clues that would help her place the men in the apartment.
This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. When her mind couldn’t handle the trauma any longer, she started to dissociate thankfully however, biology took over as her brain willed her body to stand still while her mind carried her away from the cramped quarters she and her companion occupied. Thoughts of her tropical island flooded her senses. She could almost hear the waves crashing down on her Dominican shores, almost taste the sweetness of mango con chile after biting through a thick coat of spice, and the salt from the water, everything was always just an almost. She could’v-
Buzzzz. Buzzzz. Buzzzz.
Her eyes wasted no time to shoot open and widen in realizing she left her phone on the couch. She felt her partner’s body stiffen, really for the first time since closing the shutter doors. With the buzzing of a phone, she was back in the states. Back in the closet. She wanted to break out of their prison, dig her nails into this stranger’s arm and run as fast as her legs could carry them. She could do neither of these things and the trembling picked up again, this time the slightest bit more aggressively. “What the fuck is th-? It’s his phone. Shut that shit off, yeah?” Again, Kahlo listened hard to mentally picture where the men were in the apartment. The faint footsteps grew louder the closer one of them got to the couch. A gloved hand sliding over the leather and slipping into its cracks could be heard until the phone was found.
When the lock screen – a personal image of Catscratch dancers in fishnets and corsets in Kahlo’s dressing room - was deemed not fitting for a, very dead, Benjamin, it was over. “There’s someone else here, boss.”
If Kahlo were the fainting type, this would’ve been the time she hit the floor.
_
Kahlo had been so focused on trying to plan their big escape that her body jolted in surprise when Ace’s shoulders shifted in the closet. The panic that began to fester in her body almost made her forget there was another person in there with her, but the instant she recognized the allegiance in his eyes as they stared intently back at her, the initial scare quickly eased away. She was pulled back to safety. There was some relief in being reminded that they hadn’t been discovered yet – there was still time to work together but just as quickly as this new notion came, it was dismissed when Kahlo felt Ace’s steady hands guide her body down to the corner of the closet. With their eyes locked on each other’s, she knew exactly was he was planning as his jacket came over her knees. As Ace rose, her hand slid down his forearm then the pad of his thumb until she could no longer feel any part of him anymore. Don’t go.
There was an undeniable pang in her chest as she allowed him to clean up her mess yet again but the undeniable assurance in his gaze kept her glued to the ground. Whatever plan he cooked up just then, he was dead set on keeping her out of the way. She watched, wide eyed and pleading with him to stay a little bit longer, as the corners of his lips flirted with the idea of a smile. He was gone. She was left alone in the darkness of the closet with only faint rays of artificial light peering through the shutters. It only took one deep breath for Kahlo to redirect her energy on willing Ace to stay safe and on her ears to catch every single noise she could pick up on. She was met with deafening silence for what felt like too long until the two voices came into range again. Kahlo made out a muffled “You go left. I go right” before one pair of boots could be heard stepping further down the hall while the other pair was drawing closer to the doors of the closet. As quietly as she could, she drew her legs in tighter into herself and Ace’s dark jacket over her head until she was engulfed in total darkness.
If heartbeats were audible, her potential attacker could surely hear hers through the thin wooden doors. She heard the man’s hand on the knob and suddenly felt a sharp waft of air flood the floor of the closet as he ripped the door wide open. Kahlo shut her eyes and braced herself for impact. Aggressive hands rummaged over the few coats that’d been hanging directly above her and sent them crashing down over her head. Her body jerked and her hand flew to her mouth to keep herself from screaming, but the ruckus he caused was more than enough to cover her tracks. She’d gone unnoticed and he abandoned his search in the closet, defeated. She didn’t let herself relax until she was surrounded by silence again and then she reluctantly set herself free from her camouflage.
Just before Kahlo could actually step passed the closet door, she slipped her arms through Ace’s jacket but was seized by death itself as her eyes fell on the bloodbath before her. Her eyes widened with terror and her hands came up to her mouth to muffle her oncoming hyperventilating. The blood that flowed throughout her limbs suddenly felt warmer and thicker. Her knees were about to go out from under her from such an eyeful when she heard the sound of a body drop to the marble and she was violently reminded of the stakes at hand. Her body stiffened as she listened closely for any indication that her stanger hadn’t been the one to fall but nothing. She took another step and the front door came into view. To say the idea of making a run for it didn’t cross her mind would be a lie but the sense of loyalty she felt towards Ace heavily outweighed her own selfish desires so the idea was quickly forced out of her mind. As Kahlo decided to risk it all for a carving knife she crept the short distance from the closet to the kitchen and footsteps could be heard from the room at the end of the hall. Totally outside her element, Kahlo forced her legs to keep moving.
One more corner and the kitchen would come into her sights. Her plan was flawless until she came in view of the body of the bulkier man struggling to survive. She took hesitant steps forward as she tried to pass him. He was on his stomach, a pool of blood had begun to form underneath his head but it was significantly less than she was prepared for and Kahlo was grateful for it. She didn’t know how much more death she could take before she was really set off. “B-back-u-” The gurgling noise would’ve been enough for anyone to know this man was still alive and could be saved. She couldn’t make out what he was saying. Help me? Stop? She inched as close as she’d allow. Just when the man’s face came into view as she hovered over him, she noticed a phone in his bloodied hand near his lips. “Back-up.” She eyes widened in disbelief when everything was made clear: there’d be more of him coming in God knows how soon. Without thinking she managed to kick the phone from his hand and pounced on him.
With a new sense of urgency, one completely unrecognizable to her, her body lunged for the man’s top half. Her hands wrapped around the man’s punctured neck but it was too thick and slippery for her to get a decent grip. It was made painfully clear that this tactic wouldn’t bode well for her when she felt a hard elbow connect with the side of her face, drawing blood. He still had some fight left in him – that or just enough remaining energy to fight off a measly hundred and fifteen pounds no problem. When she realized she wouldn’t be able to choke him, she instead relied on her body weight and pressed her hands down on his head as hard as she could stand it. He was already slipping away so it wasn’t difficult for Kahlo but she still absentmindedly produced as much force as her tiny frame could. It was him or her and she was not going to die here. Kahlo’s thought were everywhere and nowhere as she tried to suffocate him. She didn’t ease up until she felt a crack from under her hands and she knew he was gone.
She brought the backs of her wet hands up to her eyes where the blood didn’t make contact with her skin. Dios, perdoname. She crawled away from the body and pressed her back to the cool plaster of the hallway wall. Her knees came up to her chest as she started to rock back and forth. Adrenaline and fear were the only things flowing through her body at this point, heightening her senses. That’s when she picked up on the sound of a struggle coming from the other room. It was him. It was her stranger. Once again, she lunged for the body in front of her and reached for his gun with no luck before pushing herself up from the floor and slowly following the sound of grunts and fists connecting with body parts. She took a second to assess the situation: she had no gun, no weapon and she was walking into a fight. Her eyes scanned the living room for anything heavy when she spotted a glass paper weight on the table near the adjacent hallway – the same direction the noise was coming from. She darted for the table, picked up, and struggled with, the glass then pushed for Ace.
As the two men came into view, she saw him wrestle with his attacker and manage to disarm him. The gun scrapped against the marble as it was kicked in her direction. She hadn’t been noticed yet but as soon as she took just one step toward the gun, both Ace and the thug looked her way. In the same second, Kahlo let the paper weight slip from her fingers and sent it shattering to the floor near her feet, while the man wiggled out of Ace’s grip and knocked him down in the opposite direction. Not only was this man in between her and Ace but his gun was too. He wouldn’t save her this time. He couldn’t She sprang into a sprint toward the gun at the same time their attacker did. Kahlo was unsure if this would be her last seconds on Earth but she didn’t dare stop. The shorter distance to the gun was however in her favor and she reached the pistol first. The next noise heard was the sound of the gun being cocked in her hand as she pointed it at his chest. Don’t. Her eyes met the attacker’s tired ones. She could spare his life if he cooperated, she thought, but he wasted no time closing the space between them.
She pulled the trigger. And then again. And then again. She kept shooting even after she ran out of bullets and the man hit the floor with six holes in his abdomen.
@vihilum
Instinct pushed forward and Kahlo’s hands were already on the man’s body. While she waited to take the stranger’s lead in almost everything else, once it was made clear that he was still alive, that she was not as guilty as she prepared herself to be, she sprang into action. She slid her right hand underneath his limp neck and lifted just enough so that his airway was clear. Druggies, not matter how far deep you were, have seen overdose before. Although, she couldn’t keep her own body from trembling, she stayed the course and tried to make herself as useful to her savior as possible. A few words were exchanged but nothing drastic enough to make them look up from the nearly dead body that physically separated them. Perhaps it was Kahlo’s ultra focus on the man that prevented her from picking up on the rustle of the doorknob, but her make shift partner was there to save her ass once again.
If Kahlo had been blinking, she would’ve missed everything. It seemed that nothing would work out in her favor that night. The two opposing forces came into the apartment with seemingly no struggle, yet they had no key. They’d done this before. She felt hands on her arm yank her up with a paralyzing sense of urgency that left her unable to resist. She trusted this stranger with her life at this point. Following his swift movement, Kahlo allowed her body to be lead into the hallway closet. After he pressed her to the back wall of the closet, she watched as his hands fell from her shoulders. He turned and carefully shut the shutter doors, barricading them inside. He took front and center with his eyes only centimetres away from the light that poked through the gaps of the flimsy, wooden doors so his back was pressed to the front of the her body. What would have been a terribly tight fit for any two people was only just a tight fit both of their relatively slender frames.
Hearing everything without being able to actually see anything was a torment. Heavy footsteps gave away the steel toe boots the second pair of intruders were wearing as they thumped over the marble flooring. A patronizing tisk came from one of the men, now fully in the living room, while the other spoke out. “Benjamin, what kind of shit do you get yourself into, man? Looks like you had all the fun before we even got here.” There was something so sinister in the man’s tone that made Kahlo’s stomach fall to the floor and the hairs on her neck rise. Whoever they were, whatever they wanted, she knew she wanted absolutely nothing to do with them. Her life was already shit, she didn’t need anything else. Her mind would’ve kept racing if the silence wasn’t interrupted by the sound of a steel toe making contact with a skull.
First it was a crunch but after the fourth stomp it started to sound more like boots splashing around in globs of mud than anything else. Imagining blood, the color of crimson, splatter all over the white floor and walls - envisioning a gaping crater where the man’s face was only minutes ago was making her queasy. This was a person. A human being and they had no regard for the divinity of life. If she couldn’t get her own shit together, who was to say the pair hiding in the closet wouldn’t be met with the same fate, or worse. Desperate to steady herself, Kahlo’s hands found the hem of Ace’s jacket and she clung to him as she nervously attempted to self soothe. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. It seemed the destruction behind the closet doors was finally finished but noise from the two men continued. She couldn’t be sure but it sounded like rummaging through this drawer and that cupboard, knocking over this table and laughing about the way the man called Benjamin was already waiting for them, Kahlo tried so hard to remain still and silent as she listened for any more clues that would help her place the men in the apartment.
This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. When her mind couldn’t handle the trauma any longer, she started to dissociate thankfully however, biology took over as her brain willed her body to stand still while her mind carried her away from the cramped quarters she and her companion occupied. Thoughts of her tropical island flooded her senses. She could almost hear the waves crashing down on her Dominican shores, almost taste the sweetness of mango con chile after biting through a thick coat of spice, and the salt from the water, everything was always just an almost. She could’v-
Buzzzz. Buzzzz. Buzzzz.
Her eyes wasted no time to shoot open and widen in realizing she left her phone on the couch. She felt her partner’s body stiffen, really for the first time since closing the shutter doors. With the buzzing of a phone, she was back in the states. Back in the closet. She wanted to break out of their prison, dig her nails into this stranger’s arm and run as fast as her legs could carry them. She could do neither of these things and the trembling picked up again, this time the slightest bit more aggressively. “What the fuck is th-? It’s his phone. Shut that shit off, yeah?” Again, Kahlo listened hard to mentally picture where the men were in the apartment. The faint footsteps grew louder the closer one of them got to the couch. A gloved hand sliding over the leather and slipping into its cracks could be heard until the phone was found.
When the lock screen – a personal image of Catscratch dancers in fishnets and corsets in Kahlo’s dressing room - was deemed not fitting for a, very dead, Benjamin, it was over. “There’s someone else here, boss.”
If Kahlo were the fainting type, this would’ve been the time she hit the floor.
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@vihilum
Instinct pushed forward and Kahlo’s hands were already on the man’s body. While she waited to take the stranger’s lead in almost everything else, once it was made clear that he was still alive, that she was not as guilty as she prepared herself to be, she sprang into action. She slid her right hand underneath his limp neck and lifted just enough so that his airway was clear. Druggies, not matter how far deep you were, have seen overdose before. Although, she couldn’t keep her own body from trembling, she stayed the course and tried to make herself as useful to her savior as possible. A few words were exchanged but nothing drastic enough to make them look up from the nearly dead body that physically separated them. Perhaps it was Kahlo’s ultra focus on the man that prevented her from picking up on the rustle of the doorknob, but her make shift partner was there to save her ass once again.
If Kahlo had been blinking, she would’ve missed everything. It seemed that nothing would work out in her favor that night. The two opposing forces came into the apartment with seemingly no struggle, yet they had no key. They’d done this before. She felt hands on her arm yank her up with a paralyzing sense of urgency that left her unable to resist. She trusted this stranger with her life at this point. Following his swift movement, Kahlo allowed her body to be lead into the hallway closet. After he pressed her to the back wall of the closet, she watched as his hands fell from her shoulders. He turned and carefully shut the shutter doors, barricading them inside. He took front and center with his eyes only centimetres away from the light that poked through the gaps of the flimsy, wooden doors so his back was pressed to the front of the her body. What would have been a terribly tight fit for any two people was only just a tight fit both of their relatively slender frames.
Hearing everything without being able to actually see anything was a torment. Heavy footsteps gave away the steel toe boots the second pair of intruders were wearing as they thumped over the marble flooring. A patronizing tisk came from one of the men, now fully in the living room, while the other spoke out. “Benjamin, what kind of shit do you get yourself into, man? Looks like you had all the fun before we even got here.” There was something so sinister in the man’s tone that made Kahlo’s stomach fall to the floor and the hairs on her neck rise. Whoever they were, whatever they wanted, she knew she wanted absolutely nothing to do with them. Her life was already shit, she didn’t need anything else. Her mind would’ve kept racing if the silence wasn’t interrupted by the sound of a steel toe making contact with a skull.
First it was a crunch but after the fourth stomp it started to sound more like boots splashing around in globs of mud than anything else. Imagining blood, the color of crimson, splatter all over the white floor and walls - envisioning a gaping crater where the man’s face was only minutes ago was making her queasy. This was a person. A human being and they had no regard for the divinity of life. If she couldn’t get her own shit together, who was to say the pair hiding in the closet wouldn’t be met with the same fate, or worse. Desperate to steady herself, Kahlo’s hands found the hem of Ace’s jacket and she clung to him as she nervously attempted to self soothe. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. It seemed the destruction behind the closet doors was finally finished but noise from the two men continued. She couldn’t be sure but it sounded like rummaging through this drawer and that cupboard, knocking over this table and laughing about the way the man called Benjamin was already waiting for them, Kahlo tried so hard to remain still and silent as she listened for any more clues that would help her place the men in the apartment.
This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. When her mind couldn’t handle the trauma any longer, she started to dissociate thankfully however, biology took over as her brain willed her body to stand still while her mind carried her away from the cramped quarters she and her companion occupied. Thoughts of her tropical island flooded her senses. She could almost hear the waves crashing down on her Dominican shores, almost taste the sweetness of mango con chile after biting through a thick coat of spice, and the salt from the water, everything was always just an almost. She could’v-
Buzzzz. Buzzzz. Buzzzz.
Her eyes wasted no time to shoot open and widen in realizing she left her phone on the couch. She felt her partner’s body stiffen, really for the first time since closing the shutter doors. With the buzzing of a phone, she was back in the states. Back in the closet. She wanted to break out of their prison, dig her nails into this stranger’s arm and run as fast as her legs could carry them. She could do neither of these things and the trembling picked up again, this time the slightest bit more aggressively. “What the fuck is th-? It’s his phone. Shut that shit off, yeah?” Again, Kahlo listened hard to mentally picture where the men were in the apartment. The faint footsteps grew louder the closer one of them got to the couch. A gloved hand sliding over the leather and slipping into its cracks could be heard until the phone was found.
When the lock screen – a personal image of Catscratch dancers in fishnets and corsets in Kahlo’s dressing room - was deemed not fitting for a, very dead, Benjamin, it was over. “There’s someone else here, boss.”
If Kahlo were the fainting type, this would’ve been the time she hit the floor.
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