I barely kept my balance, hurling curses at that infuriating grin. Jerome didn’t care—he calmly made a call.“Hello, Mrs. Stella. Yes, it’s Jerome. How are you?”I picked up small stones from the sidewalk and flung them at him as he slithered away like a serpent, grin widening. Of course, Jerome simply stepped aside and none struck him. Too exhausted to fight, I collapsed onto the curb, winter sunlight stabbing my eyelids.“Yes, ma’am. I know it’s dangerous, but it’s urgent.”While he spoke for several minutes to this Mrs. Stella, I closed my eyes and drew slow breaths. The cold air cut deep into my lungs. When Jerome finally hung up and told me to wait, he vanished somewhere. I pushed myself up and rubbed my legs—muscle pain so fierce I nearly cried, but the cramps forced me to keep kneading them. Jogging every day at Ellefan had spared me the worst; otherwise I’d already be slung over Jerome’s shoulder, like in the Teddy days of endless drinking and drugs.As I worked my leg, memories flooded—Teddy’s fierce care when I’d collapsed high on drugs in front of the door. He’d combed the neighborhood for me, and when he failed, had beaten me in anger for scaring him. I loved that innocence—though I’d screamed at him to leave, it was always Teddy who hauled me home. Even his lousy clam chowder now seemed a comfort.I glanced down to see a black shoe slip between my ankles. I looked up. Jerome stood with his back to the pale winter sun, pressing a cold can to my cheek. I recoiled at the chill, and he laughed mischievously as he offered me the can. Coca-Cola. Tapping open his own, he said, “We’ll have to wait here a bit.”“…”I shook the can violently instead of replying. Jerome, mid-sip, watched wide-eyed. I flung the shaken can away. Watching it tumble across to the opposite curb, Jerome’s gaze followed. He turned back to me, eyes still round.“I’m not drinking that, you bastard.”“…”“Quit this nonsense and piss off.”“You’re stubborn, aren’t you?”He spoke playfully and suddenly sat on my thigh. A few passersby eyed us, but I shoved at his shoulder in panic—he didn’t budge. Without warning, he clamped my jaw, forced my mouth open, and poured his entire Coke down my throat. A madman—carbonation burned my esophagus. I slapped and shoved his arm, but he simply kept pouring until the can was empty. Half I swallowed, half I spat out.“Cough, hack!”I bent double, choking, coughing violently. With Jerome seated mere inches away, I pressed my head to his chest, heaving as if to vomit. Through tears I glared at him, and he sucked Coke-soaked fingers, grinning like a mischievous child. I truly wanted to kill him—but as I lunged for his throat, he slithered away again.Anger burned in me as I glared, but the sugar revived me just enough to quell thirst and give a flicker of strength. Jerome flinched back each time I threw stones, keeping distance; one hand shoved in his pocket, he casually rifled through my phone. Finding nothing, I let him be.Finally, he spoke, “Is Ms. Fei your girlfriend?”“…What?”“I got a text. She’s asking when you’ll return.”He shook the phone at me, the messaging app open.“Since she’s worried, call her and tell her to get home soon.”“Give it to me.”“What?”“The phone.”“You’ll throw stones if I come near.”“…”I glared murderous daggers, but Jerome just smiled. After a pause, I relented.“I won’t throw—just give it to me.”“I don’t trust you.”“Then at least send a reply—tell her I’ll be there tomorrow.”Jerome stared, mischief in his eyes.“You’re not going tomorrow.”“Who are you to decide that?”“Hmm…”He feigned thought, then replied,“Because you’re jealous?”He began typing on my phone, sending his own message. Dragging my leg, half-crawling, I lunged for it and snatched the phone away. In that moment, he’d already sent Fei a text: “Sorry, but it’s over between us.” Luckily she immediately called—just as I stammered, “Fei, it’s Ohha… that bastard is pranking—” Jerome whipped the phone from my hand and cut it off. Rage exploded in me.“Asshole!”“I’m borrowing your phone. Like you saw earlier, yours is trashed.”“Give it back!”“I’m expecting an important call, /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ so no.”I wanted nothing more than to beat Jerome to a pulp—to find Timothy and bury him in the dirt. But anger exhausted me and I collapsed. Only then did Jerome roughly lift me under the arms and set me on the sidewalk. I was too spent to sit, and half-lying there, Jerome wandered back to the road. Thoughts of Fei and Allen filled me with guilt—I couldn’t reach them anyway. And Jerome clearly didn’t intend to let me go, especially with my phone in his pocket.Reason said sticking with Jerome wasn’t the worst option—he was closest to the Club and best placed to learn about Timothy. Yet every time he tormented me and slipped away, I wanted to throttle him. The idea of cooperating with him made my skin crawl. We’d never been allies or shared a mutual goal until now. I’d sooner wander alone back to New Contan’s strip clubs and seek out the baritone I’d once sold myself to—an absurd fantasy.As I steadied my breathing, Jerome returned, followed by a red truck creeping up behind him. Both stopped before me. He flung open the truck door and strode over, slipped an arm under my armpits, and hoisted me up. I had no choice but to lean against him as he carried me to the truck.In the driver’s seat sat a man with long gray hair braided into twin tails over broad, muscular shoulders. His denim vest gaped open, revealing powerful chest muscles. Massive as a boulder, he alone filled the cab. He wore wild makeup, red lips curved in a grin. I nodded mutely, too stunned to react.With Jerome’s help, I stumbled into the back seat. The man extended his hand, and I half-unconsciously shook it. Jerome squeezed into the passenger side.“Raymond, this is Mrs. Stella. She’s kindly giving us a lift. Mrs. Stella, this is Raymond. You know Christopher well, don’t you?”“Nice to meet you, Raymond.”Stella’s cheeks, prickly with new stubble, dimpled deeply. With no further greeting, she drove off. I half-reclined across the seat, watching the passing scenery. Despite her rough driving, sleep overcame me, and I drifted off.When I woke, I lay in an unfamiliar bed, body aching. My groan echoed in the dark until I crawled from under the covers and stretched, muscles loosening. Fully rested, I felt light—nothing like before sleep. I looked around in the pitch black.I flung open the window beside the bed. A cool breeze rushed in, mussing my hair. Startled, I blinked, then leaned out. Waves crashed below. Gradually my eyes adjusted: a short cliff, ten meters down to broad white sand, then rolling black surf. Escaping would be a nightmare. After ridding myself of drowsiness in the sea breeze, I closed the window and gingerly stepped out of bed. The throbbing low down remained, but I could walk. Across the creaking floor I limped to the door.Opening it, bright fluorescent light flooded me. A neatly placed pair of slippers sat on the mat. Ignoring them, I tip-toed barefoot into the small, tranquil house. Apart from the distant surf through a slightly open window, all was silent. A soft carpet covered the floor; I padded across to the living room.On the sofa sat Jerome—shirt collar popped, cufflinks undone—head tilted as he slept soundly. I blinked and stood back, observing him. His chest rose and fell evenly. Standing on tiptoe, I crept forward. He noticed nothing. I gazed down at him—bearded cheeks, parted lips—and felt both alien and intimately familiar. Over years, the Top-Floor Boys had never left me; even the dead Hugh seemed to live on somewhere.They would stay with me always. They were part of me, inseparable. My cruelty and rage were as much theirs as mine. The love I learned from them was never solely my own. They lived on in me forever. There was no perfect way to kill them: death would only etch them deeper into my life, and life would bind them to me if I let them live. I could never run from it. It was my fate—my destiny.I stood over Jerome, shadow falling across him, then lunged without a sound. He snapped awake, eyes wide. We exchanged no words. I seized his tender neck with both hands. He bent his knee to strike my solar plexus, but I wrapped his leg, twisting it. He rolled out, kicking my side with his free foot; I barely blocked with my arm.As he lost balance and slid off the sofa, I pounced onto him. I crushed his face into the cushion, smothering him. He clutched my wrist, twisted free with a powerful roll. I stumbled back, knee buckling for a moment, and he seized the chance to punch my lip. Blood filled my mouth, but instead of pausing, I sprang up, grappled his waist, and threw him over. Straddling him, I clamped his throat again, determined to break his neck. He thrashed, and I squeezed tighter, thumb pressing into his windpipe. His head snapped back.His eyes fluttered, bloodshot, then his lips curved in a faint smile. I choked him with greater force until his eyes closed.His body went limp under me. Doubt crept in as I slowly loosened my grip. Jerome lay pale, not moving. I touched my finger beneath his nose—no breath. The ocean’s waves sounded through the window, eerily. Jerome was dead.A cold dread washed over me. I gazed at his lifeless face, breath catching as though someone strangled me. My strength drained away. I stared at him, eyes shut as if asleep.“No…”A drop of blood from my split lip fell onto the bruised skin of his throat.“No… no…”I felt as though I screamed, but heard nothing—silence like a vacuum. Panic seized me. I tore at my shirt, tore it apart, and pressed my hands, interlaced, onto his bare chest. Blood dripped from my knuckles onto his heart.I’d done this before—seen death in Afghanistan, had survivors in shock, revived them. I could save him. Was it too late? A chilling sensation claimed me, as if my own blood drained away. No—he couldn’t die here! It wasn’t real! Each time I pressed, his limbs twitched—but his eyes never opened. I flung myself over him, pressing my lips to his, pinching his nose, and blew air into his mouth. Tears streamed down as I kept forcing breath. It was too quiet—too still.We… you… no! They were always there—if you died, I would… my life, everything, it’s you… I can’t lose you too!I wiped my bloody lips and forced air again. I sobbed, but Jerome did not move. I rose and pumped his chest like a pump, my hands pumping his heart in blood-slick rhythm until his torso was drenched. He did not stir. He was gone—gone. I collapsed over him, wailing.The silence cracked like glass. The mute void shattered, and a scream burst forth—my own, a primal, blood-curdling cry that tore at my ears even as my lungs seized with horror.

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