Authors Note – This story is a little dark, includes coarse language and has references to an abusive relationship. Mature audiences only!
This particular coffee shop isn’t her favorite but Katy had insisted on meeting here. There had been something in her friends voice that convinced her that it was important and there was no time to argue.
Mirra sat in the same place she always sat. Not just in this coffee shop, but anywhere she went and sat. Her back against a wall, a clear line of sight to the exits and a view of all the patrons and employees. It wasn’t that she as paranoid, she had just been around too long, seen too much. To that point she surveyed the coffee shop once more, and once she was satisfied she returned to the well worn notebook on the table in front of her. When she found she had no words to write she reached for her coffee instead, only to find it cold against her lips.
After a moment of disgruntlement she glanced around the coffee shop again before she wrapped her right hand around the cheap paper cup. Mirra tapped one of her ring heavy fingers against the side of the cup three times. She waited for a moment and took another sip. “Mmm, much better.”
Just as she set the cup back on the table the front door opened and she spied her friend Katy as the young redhead entered and immediately started to look around. Mirra held up a hand, the same slender hand, with al the rings that had just been wrapped around the coffee cup.
Katy saw her and nodded before she began to weave her way through the mismatched tables and chairs.
When her friend came closer Mirras blood boiled much like her coffee. Katy had not even sat down yet before Mirra started in, “Katy what the hell happened?”
The young woman who sat across from Mirra was quiet, kept her head down so that her tangled hair covered half of her pale and freckled face.
“This is bullshit Katy. He can’t keep doing this to you.” Mirras hand had fallen to wrap around her cup and she now pulled it away with a flinch as steam started to rise from the dark, bitter liquid. Instead she laid her hands flat on the table, “Go to the cops, a lawyer or let me help you, something.” She ducked her head to catch her friends eye, “Katy… Please.”
For the first time since she sat down Katy looked across the table at her friend. The movement allowed her hair to slip aside and reveal the left side of her delicate face in greater detail. The combination of coffee house mood lighting and the setting sun made the damage to her face stand out in an even more grim fashion if that were possible. Her left eye dark and sunken, a deep purple covered the majority of her sharp and high cheekbone, her bottom lip was split so badly the divet was clearly visible. The swelling was so bad it even slurred her speech a bit. “Mirra… that’s how this happened.” NOw the girls voice was distorted not only by her injuries but by her choked back tears. “L- last month month, when I went to that divorce lawyer. He… he found out Mirra…” The usually bright and attractive young woman ducked her head to again hide behind her curtain of hair. “It was even worse this time…I… I really thought that…”
“Katy. Don’t let him get away with this.” Mirras perfect black nails dug into the table, nearly so hard that had she paid attention she would have worried about scratching the wood. The tendons tensed in her hands and the skin rippled over them. Her teeth ground together as she prepared to speak but a crash in the kitchen startled her from her thoughts and she gathered her composure. Dark green eyes fell to the floor as she loosened her jaw and the muscles in her arms. “You have to do something, turn his ass in!”
“No!” Katy growled back. “You think this is bad?” She shoved her hair back with a sloppy brush of her hand, “He’ll legitmitaly fuckin’ kill me if I turn him in.”
“Katy, he might kill you anyway!”
They both fought to keep their voices under control as they argued but eventually the fight ended with Katy cursing that she never should have came to see Mirra after which she stormed out of the shop.
Mirra was right behind her, out the door before it even had the chance to swing shut. “Katy, wait!”
Her friend did not listen. With her head down, light red hair bouncing against her shoulders Katy took off across the street where she paid no mind to the traffic.
Mirra, on the other hand saw all too clearly the SUV. With her left hand stretched out as far as she could reach she yelled, “Stop!” The flat of her palm pointed straight at the passenger side door as it screeched to a halt with such force the drivers head nearly bounced off the steering wheel.
Her hand was still outstretched when Katy turned to look at Mirra. She said nothing, just continued across the street and climbed into a cab halfway down the block.
As she let her hand fall limp against her side Mirra fought down the sick feeling that had settled itself in the pit of her stomach. With that same hand she dug into her sleek black hair and with the other she reached in her jacket pocket and palmed a rough crystal. She did not move until the cab Katy had got in was out of site. Even then she kept her hand firmly wrapped around the stone in her pocket and repeated the same phrase over and over in her mind. “He will not touch her again.”
It was nearly midnight when Mirra stepped out of the shower, no longer with the stone but still she repeated the words every so often, “He will not touch her again.”
As she sat on the bench in her bedroom and waited for her hair and body to air dry she applied lotion to the intricate vine tattoo that curled and climbed up her calf, swirled around her knee before it began a climb up a portion of her thigh as well. While she worked she muttred the words. Different words this time. The words so delicately etched into her skin that made up this vine tattoo.
The words told a story. A long, detailed story. Parts of it dark other parts lighter. The whole of it as intricate and old as the ink patterns that memorialized it on her pale skin. She didn’t have to read the words to recite the story, she knew it well, she lived it, she etched it into her skin. THe ring of her cell phone halted the recitation and she stopped to peer at the screen, the name the caller ID showed made her heart skip a beat.
Her hand still slippery with lotion she waved it over the phones screen and answered, “Katy, I’m glad you called.”
Before Mirra could say any more Katy bawled, “Mirra! He’s got a gun! Mirra, Mirra please, please help me!”
Mirra jumped to her feet, the candles through the apartment extinguished in a woosh of cold air as the electric lights flashed on. “I’m coming Katy. I’m coming!”
With a purpose that would terrify and a dark glare that would destroy Mirra pulled on a shirt and jeans. With one hand she pulled at the nightstand drawer and with the other she reached towards her closet across the room. When she left her apartment one hand held a black leather jacket and the other a .38 special.
When he answered the door it was obvious he had not expected to find Mirra on the other side. “What the hell do you want.”
Mirra waisted no words, “Where is she Derek?”
“Where is who?”
“Don’t fuck with me. Where is she?”
Had the young man been smart or sober or even remotely observant he would have seen Mirras eyes narrow and muscles in her jaw twitch. He was none of these things. “She ain’t here no more.”
She rolled her head from one side to the other, her still damp hair swung slightly with the motion. “Let me see.” Mirra took a step to move through the door and he blocked her.
“Get out of here bitch, this is my house.”
“Move.” Mirra set her eyes on his.
Derek smiled and took another swig from his beer bottle, “Make me.”
The corner of her lip twitched. “Ok,” She reached out slowly and laid her hand on his bare chest, “Move.” With a shove Katys husband fell back several feet, his beer splashed across the cheap apartment flooring. “Katy!” Mirra scanned the apartment while she waved a hand and slammed the door shut behind them, the deadbolt thrown with a flick of a rist. “Katy!”
“Mirra!” A call back echoed from some other corner of the apartment.
“Katy come out here!” Mirra yelled again before she turned her attention back to the husband, “You keep your ass on the ground.” Against her order he tried to lunge at her only to have her barefoot connect with the soft spot in his side. While he gasped for air Mirra waved Katy out from the doorway and pulled the pistol from her own jacket pocket. She pulled the hammer back and aimed right at Dereks chest. “C’mere Katy.”
“Oh my God. Mirra! What are you doing?” The young redhead screamed at the sight of her best friend and the gun she held on her husband.
“Katy, are you okay?” Mirras voice was calm and steady.
Katys was not, “Yeah, I’m, I’m fine. What are you doing?”
“Get your phone, go down to the street and call the cops.”
“Mirra…”
“Do it, now Katy.” Mirra raised her eyes to Katy, “Now. You’re okay, now go do what I say.” Mirra stared the frightened young woman down until she obeyed and ran from the apartment.
“What are you gonna do bitch? Babysit me until the popo show up?” Derek slurred from here he know sat on the floor.
As the door shut behind them Mirra focused all of her attention on the abuser. “You’re not that lucky. Get your ass up.” When he didn’t listen she kicked him again, “I said get up!”
He clutched his stomach and coughed but climbed to his feet.
“Now go sit in that chair there.” She pointed to a kitchen chair with the hand that did not hold the gun. When he didn’t listen again, she decided to forgo the second order instead she uncocked the hammer on the pistol. When the momentary look of satisfaction crossed his smug face she grabbed him by the neck and threw him the ten feet back to the kitchen table. The chair at which she had pointed at creaked and slid back several feet when he landed but it did not break.
“What in the actual f…”
Mirra cut him off, “I’m done dicking around.”
He moved to stand up but found that he couldn’t. Panic washed across the face as he struggled against nothing but the air around him.
“I’m tired of this shit, and I’m tired of her not doing anything about it. I’m tired of her being so scared of your worthless ass that she won’t even try to defend herself.” Mirra padded across the floor in her bare feet, pistol held at her side. “Well, I’ve seen plenty of asshats like you and you know what?” They were face to face now and she smiled. “You may think you’re a big bad motherfucker. But, when I’m done with you… you’re gonna piss your pants and beg for God.”
When he struggled harder Mirra smiled, her face clouded with a dark emotion that only made him to struggle more.
“You scared Derek?” Mirra slid her pistol back in her coat pocket. “Don’t worry honey, I won’t shoot you.” She waited for the relief to show in his eyes before she spoke again. “You’re gonna do it yourself.”
The color drained from his face, his whole body shook and his eyes misted over with tears on the brink.
“Where’s the gun?”
His response was only to let the first tear fall.
“She told me you had a gun. Where’s the gun?” She didn’t pace. She didn’t raise her voice. She just stood in front of him with bare feet and wet hair and dead eyes. “You’re not gonna tell me? Okay. That’s not a problem.” As she took a few steps back she glanced around the small apartment and held her left hand out flat in front of her. Stretched out enough to expose her wrist and the compass tattoo there. Her eyes focused on the tattoo she turned a few circles, the man that struggled against the invisible force that held him to the chair did not distract her.
“What the hell are you doing? What’s going on?” His eyes cried out right now, his voice choked and racked with sobs. Similar to the way Katy often sounded after one of his attacks.
“Ah-ha!” She smirked a little and turned to face him, “Stay there, I’ll be right back.”
When she left the living room and walked through the bedroom door Derek doubled his efforts to free himself from the chair but still he could not move. “Let me go you crazy bitch!”
Within seconds she returned, a black 9mm handgun in her palm. “You shouldn’t call women things like that.” As she came to stand next to him she shoved the chair back hard with a kick. She did so with so much force that it caused the back of Dereks head to bounce of the wall. Mirra stood in front of him, the gun held in front of him. “Take the gun.”
His eyes darted between her face and the pistol.
“Go ahead. Take it.” She racked the slide to chamber around and bobbed it infront of him a few times until he complied.
He looked shocked that he could all of the sudden move his hand but he reached for the gun. The first thing he did once his hand wrapped around the grip was point it at Mirra.
The woman only laughed, “You’re not going to shoot me Derek.” Her eyes bored into his as his finger shook with effort where he fought to pull the trigger. No matter how murderous and deadly his eyes and his face looked, he could not pull the trigger.
Mirra left him to walk a lap around the living room. “Here’s how this is gonna go. The cop’s are on their way, they’ll ask Katy what happened, and this time she will tell them. Then they’ll come running up here and find you, here, in this chair, with a bullet in your head.”
Derek shook visibly, the gun nearly rattling in his hand. “What? What are you gonna shoot me? Is that it? You’re actually gonna shoot me!”
“No Derek, I’m not going to shoot you, we’ve already discussed this. Remember you’re going to shoot yourself.” Her smile was sadistic. “See, I’ll prove it to you.” She came to stand in his face again, “Put the gun in your mouth.”
He shook even more violently. More tears streamed down his now red and sweat drenched face and neck.
“Put. The gun. In. Your mouth.” She stooped forward so they were eye to eye. “Now.”
The fight went out of him and slowly he did as he was told, put the muzzle in his mouth. The front sight knocked against one of his front teeth and he winced.
“Put your finger on the trigger.”
His eyes were clamped shut now but his finger settled on the trigger. Sirens sounded outside and Mirra stood back up to her full height.
“Are you going to hit Katy again?”
Derek shook his head.
“Are you going to so much as cuss at her ever again?”
He tried to say no but gagged slightly around the muzzle of the gun.
“You’re gonna let her leave aren’t you? Let her divorce your worthless, drunk ass? You’re gonna let her go far away from here and never see her again. RIght?”
“Yes!” He screamed as best he could.
“Of course you are.” Mirra turned to the window as she heard the cops pull up out front. “Ok, now you stay right here and wait for the nice officers.” She Leaned back into his face, eye to eye, only the length of the handguns barrel apart. “If you so much as consider touching her ever again I will know and I will find you. Understand?”
Derek nodded his head up and down, teeth scraped against the gunmetal.
Without another word Mirra left the apartment. As she walked down the hall she closed her eyes and listened for the cops as they ran up the stairs. When she opened her eyes again they stared straight ahead, focused on the door to the stairs where the officers would enter any second. Mirra raised one hand, up nearly level with her ear and with a slight smile snapped her fingers.
A gunshot echoed through the apartment building only seconds before the police burst through the stairwell door. They ran down the hallway guns drawn. They ran right past Mirra without so much as a spare glance.
Downstairs on the street Katy stood with a female officer and two EMTs.
None of them saw Mirra as she walked towards them. None of them, even Katy, saw when the woman with pitch black hair, haunting green eyes, and bare feet came to stand in front of Katy. Nobody noticed as she slipped a smooth, round stone into the pocket of Katys sweatpants. Nobody noticed the sad smile that crossed Mirras face as she took a long look at her sweet friend and then with a sad smile tapped her gently on the forehead.
Nobody saw as Mirra walked down the middle of the cobblestone street. Street lights and neon signs flickering slightly as the left ver energy was expelled into the muggy New Orleans night.
When the world woke up the next day Katy would not remember her friend that wore an inordinate amount of jewelry. She wouldn’t remember the call she made to beg for her friends help. She wouldn’t know that Mirra had saved her life. She wouldn’t know what had caused her abusive husband to take his own life. She wouldn’t remember where the strange stone in her pocket had come from. All Katy would know when she woke up the next morning was that she was finally free.
When the world woke up the next day Mirra would have new ink on her thigh and a longer, darker, more intricate story to recite the next night.
© 2018 K.J. Scouten
K.J. Scouten 