Page 37 of Blood Lust

MoonDance77: A clean slate. And someone who doesn’t ask questions.

Fang950: You already have that.

MoonDance77: I do?

Fang950: I’ve never asked you about a single thing that you didn’t want to give me.

MoonDance77: I know, and that’s what scares me.

There’s a pause, longer than usual.

She’s still typing. I can see it.

Then the words appear: Is it possible to feel like you’re breaking a vow without actually doing anything?

Fang950: Explain.

MoonDance77: I’m married. Unhappily. I try to keep the mask on, for the kids. But it’s slipping.

Fang950: You’re allowed to be honest here.

MoonDance77: That’s the problem. I’mtoohonest here. I say things I’ve never said out loud.

I read the last line three times, and write: You can trust me.

MoonDance77: I think I do. That’s what’s dangerous.

Another pause, longer still.

MoonDance77: I need a little space. Just for a bit.

Fang950: I understand.

MoonDance77: You’ve been… really kind. Thank you.

Fang950: I’ll be here.

MoonDance77: I know.

MoonDance77 has signed off.

I sit in the glow of the monitor for a long time.

Not angry; not scared.

Just hollow.

Because I know what she means.

But I know she won’t stay gone forever; at least, not from me.

Chapter Thirty-two

Heroes smells like lemon oil and Windex. Everything smells just a little too clean, like someone tried to erase something messy.

Tuesdays are the bar’s ghost days. No live music rattling the windows. No trivia crowds shouting over pitchers of beers. Just the intermittent buzz of flickering neon lights and murmured conversations that die before they reach the ceiling.

Then the door sighs opens and she walks in.

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