“What is your problem? Van is back there dying, and you’re just sitting out here accusing me of murdering one of our oldest friends.”
“Well, it’s only because it’s recently come to my attention that you don’t even know what friendship means.”
“I can’t fucking believe you.”
“And I don’t believe you.”
“I’m getting a Coke. I would offer to get you something if I weren’t such a terrible friend.”
Shauna walks over to the vending machine, decides she doesn’t want anything, and gets the fuck out of there. Tai could keep the situation under control, she figures, and Misty, well…
She isn’t thinking. This happens sometimes. Often, even. When she gets so pissed off all she can see is white.
🂭
Shauna steps on the gas and brakes when Misty jumps in front of her car. She rolls her window down.
“What the fuck, Misty? I could have killed you!”
“Oh, so like you killed Lottie?”
“Jesus fucking Christ. Get in the car.”
Misty squishes up her face and slams the door. She folds her arms and glares at Shauna from the passenger seat. She pulls into a parking spot.
“Let me guess, Walter put that idea in your head?”
“What? No! Why would you say that?” She shoots back defensively.
“I’m not as stupid as you so obviously think I am. And this… act thing you have going on? It’s getting old.”
“Well, if he’s guilty, so are you. Since you guys are a team now, or whatever it was that happened at Lottie’s apartment.”
“Really? You seriously need to cut out that Citizen Detective bullshit. You’re not helping anyone, and you’re hindering the investigation.”
“Hindering? You’re kidding,” she scoffs. “I am the investigation. There would be no investigation without me.”
“And why are you so obsessed with finding out who killed Lottie? Because you feel guilty for killing Natalie, you think this is gonna make up–”
Misty slaps Shauna. Right across the face. Hard. It stings, and the metallic taste melts in her mouth. Her voice gets dark, and she leans towards Shauna’s face. “Don’t.”
“You’re a fucking psycho!” Shauna yells as she grabs the knife from her console. She takes off the cover and holds it flush against Misty’s throat.
“Do it, Shauna. I dare you. Kill me, right now. Tai and Van will figure it out. I mean, Walter, even. Everyone will know. And guess who won’t be there to help you clean it up?”
Shauna presses her lips into a thin line. She’s right, and the fact that she’s right makes her sick to her stomach. But before she can even respond, Misty slams her mouth against Shauna’s, throat grazing the blade.
With wide eyes Shauna pulls away. She looks at Misty. She looks so fucked up she draws the knife back.
“You’re lucky that didn’t cut you,” she deflates. “You could have died.”
Somewhere in her heart she feels sympathy for Misty. It’s not a familiar feeling, foreign, absolutely unwelcomed and out of place. She thinks about how Jackie’s death haunts her, how it was her fault, how she’d do anything to forget, to make the pain go away. And as much as Misty frustrates her to no end, she sees a reflection of her own pain in her. Herself. The part she wants to numb.
“Get in the back,” Shauna insists, urging Misty to crawl over the console into the backseat. She meets her back there, watching as Misty leans the seat back and frantically undoes her jeans, sliding them down below her hips before Shauna can even close the door.
“Slow down.”
God, Shauna thinks. This is weird. Really fucking weird. But she shrinks to her knees anyway and pulls Misty’s legs apart as much as she can with her jeans bunched up at her ankles.
“Anything you want,” Misty whispers. “Just make the pain go away.”
Shauna touches Misty and she shudders at the contact. “Fuck, Shauna.”
Shauna slaps her hand over Misty’s mouth. She doesn’t want to hear it right now. She can’t. It makes her think too much, and that’s the last thing she wants to do right now. To hear Misty’s voice when she’s thinking of Jackie. But right now it’s not about Shauna, or Jackie, or anyone or anything else. It’s about numbing the pain.
It’s about Natalie.
It’s written all over Misty’s face and body. One mention of her name and she’s already a writhing, squirming mess.
Shauna presses a finger inside, and when Misty jerks her hips up for more, she adds another. Shauna uncovers her mouth and focuses on her twisted up face. She’s impossible to read.
“Are you thinking about Natalie?” Shauna asks, pushing her fingers deeper. She uses her other hand to draw small circles on Misty’s clit.
She grunts and fixes her glasses and her eyes flutter closed. She tries to position herself upright but slinks back down. “I’m… always thinking about her.”
Shauna is so close to Misty now she can smell cigarettes and booze on her jacket. She’s not sure if it’s left over from Natalie or if it’s just the scent of Misty following in her footsteps.
“You smell like her,” Shauna admits. Tears prick the corners of Misty’s eyes and she starts thrusting her hips in the rhythm of Shauna’s fingers. Behind her eyes all she can see is Natalie’s face and feel her long, soft fingers curling gently inside of her. Shauna’s rhythm is unfamiliar. It’s harder, faster, angrier than she’d imagine Natalie’s to be. But fuck, it’s something, and God does it feel good.
Misty knows it won’t take her much longer. That heat is burning, building, and soon she won’t be able to choke it back. She digs her fingernails into the armrests to drown it out and hesitates to look down, but she does anyway, watching closely as Shauna’s fingers quickly disappear inside of her. It feels so good, so impossible, like even though it’s wrong it’s still right, what Natalie would have wanted.
Misty knows it, and Shauna knows it too. There was something there between the two of them. There always was. But before Misty got the chance to admit it, Natalie was in her arms, falling with poison coursing through her veins. And it was no one’s fault but her own.
She’s always had it in her, that need to be violent, to kill. And it wouldn’t have mattered so much if it were anyone else who felt Misty’s heavy hand. But it was, and it just so happened to be the only person she ever loved.
“Get the knife,” Misty croaks out, her hands squeezing the armrests so tightly they become white. Her nails leave crescent-shaped marks in the leather.
“What?”
“Get the knife, Shauna. And hold it to my throat.”
Shauna flails her hand around behind her to reach for the knife. She again holds it against Misty’s throat. It almost makes her sad, to see someone she suffered so much with, spent almost every day with for nearly two years of her life with hurt so much. Hurt on a level she knows is unbearable because she feels it herself, every day of her life.
Shauna thinks that Misty deserves a lot of the pain she feels, the same way she thinks she deserves her own pain. Misty is simply a mirror of her, and that makes her angry.
That need to be violent isn’t only in Misty’s blood. It’s in Shauna’s too.
So without hesitation she fucks her with a knife against her neck, each thrust of her fingers bringing Misty closer.
Misty is covering her own mouth now, stifling back moans that otherwise would become pornographic. She is so turned on it hurts, and as she looks into Shauna’s eyes, she sees that same sparkle that was in Nat’s eyes, a glint of pain, a flicker of the place they’d been all those years ago.
Her jaw becomes sewn shut and her nostrils flair and she cums around Shauna’s fingers with a loud sob and an intensity she’s never felt before, something supernatural, something that’s been there the entire time. Her body is hot but her skin feels like the ice of that winter, raw and bloody, stinging. Tears drip down her face as Shauna fucks out the rest, merciless and starving and with the realization that this was really all it ever was, the most it could ever be.
Nothing can change the fact that the other half of Shauna had been picked to the core and devoured, corpse desecrated, a bag of bones on a plane in a place so close but impossible to touch. And the other half of Misty, quite the opposite, incinerated and reduced to nothing more than a pile of ashes sitting in an urn on the mantle in her living room. It fills the void temporarily, but this was never how it was meant to be.
“Thank you,” Misty pants, pushing Shauna’s hand away. She drags it out as far as she can, but now it hurts. Misty figures she probably means for it to.
Shauna presses her fingers into Misty’s mouth. “Clean yourself up,” she insists, sucking in a breath as she watches Misty devour what’s left of herself on her fingers. She pulls them out softly and wipes her fingers with Misty’s spit on her jeans.
“Meet me inside. Our friend is dying.”
This leaves Misty confused. Shauna thinks she looks pathetic like this, with flushed, tear-stained cheeks. “But…”
“But what?”
Misty is never usually one to back down, but she doesn’t have much left in her to put up a fight. She’s fucked out and sad and still recovering. “Nothing.”
“You never have nothing to say.”
She has so much to say, but she doesn’t even respond. It wouldn’t matter, anyway. So she pulls her jeans up and follows Shauna out of the vehicle with shaky legs. Shauna watches as she struggles with a smirk on her lips. She’s proud of herself. And she considers that maybe someday she’ll give Misty something she can be proud of, too.