I never thought I’d be using my knowledge to hurt anyone.
"You're lying, you see? You twitched. Your eye just fucking twitched," she shouts, pointing at me as wrath oozes from her words. This woman has destroyed her life and I can’t imagine how she landed herself here. Unless, maybe she ended up here the same way I did. I’m just not detoxing.
"Look, you're right. I want out. I don't want to die right now. I'm hoping someone will give me food and shelter tonight. That's all I want." Another blink, and three more for good measure.
"What the fuck? You're talking out of two sides of your mouth, and you're lying about it all." Shawnda’s breathing heavily and she pounds her fists down on the table over and over. "Goddammit, you little shit."
I hate knowing how to push her buttons. I hate how easy this is for me. I could help her in any other situation.
"I don’t—I’m confused. I’m being serious. I want to get the hell out of here," I tell her.
Sweat is beading on her forehead and she’s becoming flushed. "No. No way. You bitch."
"Okay, fine, I’ll do it so you can walk out of here, okay?" I ask. "Really." I grab the blade from the table and examine it, flipping it from side to side before I run my fingertip gently across the top as if testing the sharpness.
"What the hell are you doing?" she asks while grabbing the piece of string from the tin.
She’s breaking. I’m sorry, I want to tell her.
"I just told you," I reply, giving her a look like she’s the crazy one, which she is.
"Screw you, loser. I'm not going out there and feeding myself to the dogs for you." She uses every ounce of strength to stand up from the chair, holding herself up by the tabletop. With a quick lunge, she nearly falls on top of me as she snatches the blade from my hand. I move out of the way, forcing her to fall to her knees.
"Whoa, wait! Stop! That’s my blade," I shout at her.
I don’t want that blade. I want to take it from her. I want to tell her it can be okay if she just takes a breath.
She looks up at me and smiles with a brown-tinted, toothy grin. "Fuck you," she says, slicing the razor’s edge down the center of her wrist.
I don’t want to watch this. I feel like I’m trapped inside of a horror movie. Did she—yeah. I—um. No. She’s still upright. She’ll be okay.
"Shawnda?" I shout. "Why did you do that?" I’m not sure why I’m still asking her questions since she just sliced her wrist. I must be losing my mind too. I need to stop. "Are you okay? You’re bleeding."
"You can have the blade when I'm through if they don't get to you first," she says, laughing meekly as she reveals the piece of string from her other clenched hand. It’s obvious she’s a seasoned expert on this process as she wraps the string tightly around the same wrist she just slit. "Let's hurry this process up. Want to help?" she asks.
I shake my head, refusing to touch her. Help? She wants to speed this up? Instead, I watch for a long minute until she falls to the ground. How am I still watching this? Shawnda’s head crashes against the cement with a thud, followed by a single high-pitched ping from the metal blade as it lands beside her.
Oh my God. I’m going to be sick.
Holy shit.
I can’t believe I just—I didn’t. I didn’t help her.
This isn’t my fault.
After staring for another few seconds, Shawnda’s chest stops rising and falling, and I turn for the door as a thick fog fills my head.
Ten steps, and an unlocked door separates me from a hallway where Axel and the grizzly doorman stand, waiting for me with looks of pride. Sick fucks.
"That was less than seven minutes, and you didn't lay a finger on her," Axel says, glancing down at his watch.
I shrug with uncertainty. Is this it? Are these guys going to end me too? "You just forced me to watch someone fucking commit suicide. What the hell is wrong with you? What is this? Tell me, now!"
"We didn’t force you to watch anything," Axel says. I’m trying to hold myself together the best I can even though I want fall to my knees and let all my pain escape the cold facade I wear like a mask. Maybe they didn’t force me to watch, but I had no choice in taking part in Shawnda’s decision. Axel places his hand on my shoulder and squeezes gently. "She would have done that within the next day whether you were in there or not. Don’t be so hard on yourself." I shrug his hand off my shoulder and take a few steps away from him. They must be kidding. "Really, you did her a favor."
A favor? No, I could have helped her. You assholes could have helped her. "I don’t want anything to do with you—either of you, but you told me you'd feed me. I just need food. It’s the only reason I’m here. Please. I went along with your sick test. Now it’s time to keep your commitment to me."
"Oh, are you hungry?" Axel asks as if I didn’t just tell him to feed me. He could at least be a little less obvious about trying to get under my skin. I’m not up for it.
Watching someone slice her wrist is the end of the line for me. How could anyone want that ending for someone else? How can I just stand here, about to take food from these monsters?
I’m so hungry. My desperation caused this.
"I don’t think you need to ask me if I’m hungry." With my body on overdrive, my arms are unsteady and shaking a bit, so I hide the proof of what may look like anxiety behind my back. Any sign of weakness will kill my momentum and I can’t let that happen. They may think my skills of being able to convince someone to kill themselves is a powerful thing, but it scares me to know what I’m capable of. I’m so ashamed of myself.
I follow the two men down the hall, passing several other utility-like doors. I wish I could see through them, curious as to what is on the other side since I still have no understanding of what "business" these men are conducting down here.
We take a different stairwell than the one we initially walked down, and Axel opens a door that leads into the hotel. I nudge the grizzly doorman to the side and make my way up to Axel, grabbing him by the arm.
He stops and looks down at his arm first, acknowledging the simple fact that I touched him. I’ll assume by his darkening glower that I shouldn't have.
Tough shit for him.
"What?" he grunts, pulling his arm from my grip.
"I shouldn't be in here dressed like this," I mutter silently beneath my breath while feeling as though all eyes in this lobby are boring into me. By the looks on some of their faces, it’s like they’ve spotted a dumpster rat scurrying through the lobby.
Axel glances over to the front desk and the bellhop guy, nodding at him without any expression on his face. "You're fine," Axel says.
We continue walking, and the grizzled man returns my earlier sentiment and nudges me along the way. This isn’t a game, I want to tell him. I’m not just some chick they’re planning to play footsie with under a table.
I try my best to ignore the continuing looks from everyone around me as I trail behind the men, following them into a dark restaurant. With a glance in each direction, I'm a bit relieved to find the place mostly empty. It’s almost like the ambiance is hiding what shouldn't be seen, and it's probably the best place for me at the moment.
We’re seated immediately, placed in the far corner at a round, dark, glossy table with three lit votive candles placed in the center. The two men are quiet as a woman in all black—pencil skirt with a button-down shirt—hands us leather bound menus. With her inky-black hair tied tightly in a bun on the back of her head, the only prominent feature on this woman is her cherry-red lipstick.
I expect the men to check her out as she passes by, but they're more interested in the menus, just as I am.