an early grave just to keep the electricity on and help pay for her school. She wondered, deep down, if her community college art degree would grant her the life she constantly daydreamed of, or even one half as fulfilling.
She also pictured her mother, latching on to the first guy to come along who offered to deliver her from her life. She had left a hastily scribbled note for her sixteen-year-old daughter that read “I love you but I can’t stay,” before jumping on the back of the guy’s Harley and saying “Get me out of here!” The guy had waved with a smug look on his face. As if he took sadistic pleasure in knowing he had a hand in making Zara’s already tough life harder. She was no dope, though, even then.
Thinking about all this made her angry. She looked over at Micah, that sincere, boyish face with ancient eyes, flickering with mystery. He wasn’t like them. He didn’t look at her and see all the things she wasn’t. He looked at her and saw the things she could be, if only she could be lifted out of the quicksand. She suddenly felt empathy for her mother. She could see how easy it is to forget who you leave behind when something wonderful lies in front of you.
“Who says I’m not happy?” she squeezed his hand and he leaned in and kissed her on the lips lightly. She felt a rush of something like electricity surge through her. She felt his breath on her, felt his icy hand run through her hair and caress the back of her neck.
“Sometimes it’s easier just to swim with the current. That’s all I’m saying,” Micah said, leaning back into his seat.
Just then, a loud Mustang roared up to the Porsche. She looked over and saw Drake’s devilish face.
Micah put her window down and leaned over her to talk to his friend. Zara looked at his neck, and felt dizzy with urges she could barely suppress.
“Just in time bro!” Micah said. “Ready to get gruesome?”
“Hells yeah. My girl loves bondage,” Drake cackled. Abby’s head leaned into view. She frowned. “Hello Zara.”
They all got out of their cars and the two couples stood opposite and seemed to appraise each other.
“You couldn’t have picked someone else to hook up with, could you? You know her little hipster friend almost got me mad the other night,” Drake said, while leering at Zara’s legs.
Zara narrowed her eyes at him and then stared daggers at Abby who was giggling. A rage began to boil in her and her muscles tensed.
“Knock it off dude” Micah said. “I’ve made my choice and you made yours. No point in bickering now.”
Zara had no idea what they were talking about, had he meant they had chosen brides? She felt oddly relieved by the notion. They wouldn’t kill their brides? Would they?
Drake snorted and put his arm around Abby’s waist. Abby kissed his cheek and then stared daggers at Zara. “Sure bro,” Drake said. “But do yourself a favor and clue her in. She keeps company with the Sollero kid. Who knows how much she’s told him already.”
“I don’t know why you chose a peasant to begin with,” Abby snapped. “She’s not like us.”
Drake grabbed Abby her by the throat and lifted her up off the ground like a toy doll. She began to kick and wheeze. “You’re not like us. Not yet.” Drake snarled at her and the evil painting popped back into Zara’s head.
“Stop it, both of you,” Micah shouted, and Drake set Abby down and she coughed and gasped for air.
“Mister chivalry,” Drake said with a sneer. “I remember when you used to have a sense of humor.”
Micah ignored him and turned and looked at Zara sympathetically. “You know what we are. And you know what you’re becoming. It’s not unlike a caterpillar turning into a butterfly. Call