Page 158 of Judas

Klingon

You seem to know me well enough for you to give me a nickname. It’s kind of cute.

S

Should see the other one I have. Rhymes with ‘sock fucker.’ Oh wait.

Klingon

Last try, Sunshine.

S

We were only supposed to be friends. Why are you making this more than what it’s meant to be? You helped them save me. Congratulations. Now, go back to whatever it was you were doing before you came into my life.

Klingon

I can’t. I won’t. I found you when you were a shell of the young woman you are now. There was no way in hell I was letting you return to a life where you may be hurt again. I trust your parents to keep you safe but there will be times where they’re not there, but trust me when I say, I will.

Klingon

I’ve watched you graduate high school. Start college, go on excursions with your dad, get your first tattoo, do all the cool things you’re now capable of doing, but I’ve also watched you break. Seen the way your eyes go vacant, witnessed you take one too many pills, andI won’t let you continue to do that to yourself, Sadie. I can’t lose someone like that again.

S

You’re a fucking creep. What does that even mean?

Klingon

Perhaps, but I’m a creep with your best interest at heart, and I’ll be damned if I let some punk ass attitude of yours keep me from making sure you’re safe. As for the rest, means you’re stuck with me.

S

S istyping…

Klingon

Before you finish that sentence, Sunshine, I would advise you not say anything that could piss me off. I’m liable to do something drastic, and we both know how that can pan out.

S

:) Go to hell.

Klingon

To your three o’clock, Spawn.

I stare at the notification for his last message, having closed our chat thread before it was sent over. Seeing the short message, my head snaps up immediately in the direction of my three o’clock. Thank God I learned how time relates to directions—dad made sure I am well educated.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary at first, just the table where drinks and hors d’oeuvres are being served. Staff mulling around in white shirts, silver vests, and black bow-ties, all of them appearing dapper and put together. Hands full of trays, a few of them loading items onto theirs to deliver to the guests who placed their orders.

Though mom picked out my dress, a deep warm hued purple, which clings to my curves, I feel so out of place. This dolled up and paraded around version is not me at all. I want to be in my cut off shorts, chucks, t-shirts with my fishnets, and leather jacket. Not this hoity-toity shit—and for fucks sake, someone get me a cigarette. This shit is stressing me out, on top of dealing with ‘Lias. It’s one thing to show up, but to be coiffed and rendered into this doll? Get fucked. I don’t dress up for my university events and I, well great-grandpa Patton, pays for me to attend.

Skimming the area once more, it finally catches my attention. The ring he wears on his right hand—the smallest sparkle of light glints off the platinum from the obnoxious array of multi-colored beams. Hoping my mind is only playing tricks on me, because we know how reliable it is even on the pills, I watch and wait. Sure enough, a red flare of light shines his way and it colors more of him.

He’s here. Fuck.

A part of me is thrilled, knowing he’s standing there observing me from afar and another part becomes enraged.

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