“So, why in the hell do you have cocaine, Francisco.”

Marcia stared daggers at Francisco as she squeezed her fist, ready to punch him if his answer did not satisfy her.

She had always been good at hiding her emotions. Especially in front of Francisco, who was clueless about her feelings until now.

“So you looked through my stuff, huh. Are you that untrusting of me?”

Francisco turned away from Marcia and looked toward the distant town.

“Do you think I’m joking?”

Marcia grabbed Francisco’s shoulder and forcefully turned him toward her.

“…”

“If it’s what I think it is… I’m going to need you to leave.”

“…”

“This place… My home. It won’t end up like Los Angeles.”

“Just what is it that you want?”

“I want to know why there is cocaine in that god-forsaken bag!”

“Does there need to be a reason, Marcia?”

“Ha…”

Marcia then pushed past Francisco and walked towards the door to enter the arts and crafts store before looking back at Francisco one last time.

“In the end, you never changed.”

“…”

“I had thought the years would have made you different… but you’re still the same person you were back then. I only wonder. Just what is it that is holding you back?”

“…”

Francisco was silent and turned away from Marcia in an attempt to not see her facial expression.

“Alright… I want you gone by tonight.”

“!”

Marcia then opened the door and entered.

Left alone, Francisco sat on the hot pavement and gripped his head, squeezing it with force.

Just why could he not tell her?

Did he not steel himself, promising to reveal all that had happened? So why?

Francisco slowly took his hands off his head and pulled them down for him to see.

With these same hands, he had killed, strangled, and loved.

Were these truly the same hands he had used back then? Or was there something, anything, different now?

Back then, he had done whatever he could to prosper and live, even if it meant dirtying his hands. Is he the same now?

Francisco had always believed in Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution. That those who are more adapted are more likely to survive. That without due change in harsh environments, one will perish.

He had always agreed and used it to justify himself, his existence, and his meaning. That he was the harsh environment, and that if one could not adapt, they would die.

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However, this very same theory killed him. He could not adapt and change. His lighthouse was swept away by the waves of time because of his defiance in maintaining it.

No. He was still alive, still flesh, blood, and soul, no matter how much he attempted to deny it.

So what was it? What exactly held him back, not allowing him to adapt?

No, more importantly, what was stopping him now.

Was he scared? Scared of the judgment confessing would bring?

In the end, he was still alive. He still had his pride, no matter how much he attempted to discard it.

Sweat formed on his forehead as the reoccurring desire that had plagued his life for the past year resurfaced.

He twitched slightly before suppressing the desire in the back of his head for the time being.

Then, next to him, the shop door opened as both Marcia and Elena walked out with Mrs. Williams speaking behind them.

“I hope to see y’all again soon. And Elena, baby, have a great first day of school.”

“I will!”

Marcia glanced at him before speaking to him just as usual.

“Let’s go.”

Francisco stood up and followed her.

The rest of the day was a blur.

His head pounded as the three traveled back. And when they did get there, Francisco was excluded from their conversations.

Marcia especially acted as though he was not there, as though he were invisible.

Time passed as day turned to night, and it was time for Francisco to leave.

At around ten, Marcia walked down the stairs and spoke to Francisco.

“She’s asleep; are you ready.”

Without responding, Francisco stood up, grabbed his bag, and walked towards the door.

They both stepped outside as a warm night wind blew through them, rustling their clothes.

Francisco looked back at Marcia as they stood in the driveway. He hoped he could remember her face and see her once again after time passed.

“Marcia… Maybe we’ll see each other again one day.”

“Maybe.”

He turned and began walking down the driveway as multiple thoughts and emotions flooded his head.

Is this how it would end between the two, leaving each other once again?

‘This is how it is meant to be between me and her. At least it was nice seeing just how well she’s doing.’

Back then, he was obsessed. With money, authority, and power. He had wanted to use it all. Back then, he longed to throw away his humanity to become the best he could be. But now, he did not know what he wanted, only that he did not want to remain as he currently was. He wanted to change and become human once again. And the only way was to open himself up and learn.

He thought about the short time he was here and how peaceful it was compared to the past eight years of his life. He thoroughly enjoyed it. And he thought that this was the place where he could change.

He then turned back and spoke to Marcia.

“Marcia, I just want you to know… I was never going to sell cocaine here.”

But he needed her approval to stay here, although that was improbable.

He then turned back around and continued walking before her voice came from behind.

“Then tell me. Just tell me…”

“…”

She walked towards him as the moon shone down on the two of them. It was a clear night, making it easy to see the expressions they had.

Marcia stared at Francisco, her eyes focused on his answer.

Francisco looked down, finding the will to confess.

Then, after seconds of this silence, he finally responded.

“I’m addicted to that shit, Marcia.”

“What?”

Her eyes widened as she stepped back, looking aimlessly at him.

“It’s been about two years since I first got addicted to it.”

“That’s just… shit.”

She placed her hand on her forehead as she developed a headache.

“That’s why I have it… I can’t live without it anymore.”

“…”

“Because of this addiction, I ran our gang horribly. It nearly collapsed at one point while I was high messing with bitches.”

“Then you’re telling me…”

“Yeah, someone else rose up and tried to kill me.”

Her headache grew worse as she walked to her front porch and sat down on a chair that had cushions on it.

Behind her, Francisco followed as he also sat down next to her.

“Then how are you here?”

“Someone on the inside still respected me as his. It was foolish, really, to respect me so much. He’s a naive man who hasn’t seen what people can do.”

“Does he know you’re here?”

“No, I only told him I needed money. He doesn’t know anything other than that.”

Marcia rubbed her forehead with her fingers as she processed it all.

Francisco stared out at the suburban neighborhood they were in. He saw how calm and beautiful it looked in the guise of the night before continuing.

“So you should be fine; they won’t come-”

“Francisco. Are you okay?”

He was surprised at her question, but answered it according to what he thought she wanted to hear.

“I guess I am.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

She then turned and looked at him with her dark brown eyes. While he hesitated once again before responding truthfully.

“No, I’m not okay. I’m at the lowest point of my life. I’m a drug addict with nothing to show… It feels like I spent all my life working, for it to come out as nothing. All I have left are some pounds of cocaine that are slowly killing me every time I ingest them.”

“…”

“So… Marcia, I am not okay. I haven’t been okay in years.”